“Yes,” said Mr Frewen. “I have one—a wild and desperate one, whose aim is to separate Jarette from his followers, living, and to make him prisoner. It may fail, for it is, as I say, a wild and desperate plan.”
“In Heaven’s name then, doctor, what is it?” said the captain, feebly. “Speak out, sir; you know how bad I am, and that this business is killing me.”
“Then I will speak out, captain,” said Mr Frewen, warmly. “I did mean to ask you all to wait, and have confidence in me sufficient to let me have forty-eight hours for my trial without divulging what I intended to do.”
“The times are too desperate, Mr Frewen,” said the mate. “Don’t ask that of us.”
“No; I say I will speak, but I ask you not to look upon the attempt as childish or absurd until it has been tried.”
He paused, and seeing how faint and hot the captain looked, bade me step back, and push the saloon-light farther open.
I did so, and returned nervous and excited, in dread lest I should miss a word.
But Mr Frewen had not spoken, but stood looking straight before him. Then he said quickly—“I am going to do rather a risky thing, an act which may imperil men’s lives; but I shall be as guarded as possible.”
“Yes,” said Mr Denning, eagerly.
“Before long,” continued Mr Frewen, in a low, firm voice, “a fresh supply of food and water must be given to those men. They cannot be starved to death.”