“Mr Frewen said it was wonderfully strong,” I said.
“Well, we must hope so. Take the tins. You will not make any mistake?”
“Oh no, I’ll take care,” I said. “The yellow one for the men, the blue for us; but you don’t catch me touching it.”
“Nor me, Dale,” he said, with a nod. “And look here, I shan’t open this, but here’s a big tin of kangaroo-tail; give him that too for warming up for our dinner.”
I went away pretty well loaded, and walked to the galley.
“Here,” I said, trying to speak merrily, but it was all forced, for I felt exceedingly nervous. “I was asking you just now what was for dinner. Here you are—kangaroo-tail for our dinner, and that soup in the blue tin; and you’re to put plenty of water to this other one, and make a half-bucket-full of soup for the men in the forecastle. How soon will it be ready?”
“Five minutes. I’ve plenty of boiling water. Who opened them?”
“We did,” I replied. “They are all right, but some of the tins are going bad.”
“Yes; I’ve had some I was glad to pitch overboard, sir, and if I had my way I’d make the folks as sells such rubbish for poor sailors eat it themselves.”
“And serve ’em right. You understand you’re to keep this one for us, and get ready the yellow tin?”