"Do not even assume so much, my lad. This man—well, a sluggard in duty can never be trusted. If he discharges his task reluctantly, he may also discharge it ill."
Great stir and bustle marked the next few hours. Light and air were let into every dark corner; broken hammocks were patched, and each granite ward was cleansed. Only the prisoners themselves remained unchanged. No power could instantly alter their thin, hungry faces or their disgraceful attire.
There came presently to Cecil Stark his friend and superior officer, the Commodore.
"As one not quite unknown to them, they have called upon me to be spokesman," he said.
"Of course, sir; you're the first man amongst us. Every American knows that."
"But I've no gift of words, Stark, and my nerve is not what it was. I declined the task; whereon they invited me to name a speaker likely to address this Blazey with force and judgment. I come to you. I hold it to be your duty. You must not shrink from it."
Cecil Stark was much taken aback by this proposal.
"Think better of it, sir. Who am I to voice so many older and wiser men than myself?"
"I wish you to do so. We must say much in little and hold the Agent's attention. Be off now and collect your thoughts and set your ideas in order," said the Commodore. "Look to it that you justify my choice, for I shall bear the blame if you fail."
"'Tis a very great responsibility, but I'll assume it, since you command, Commodore. Now let me meet the leaders."