“Go on then, my lad, and carry it through for all our sakes. Be careful that the man with you does not touch it.”
I nodded, and the time being near, I thrust my hands into my pockets, and began to whistle as I walked forward, passed the galley, and I was about to speak to Dumlow, who was on the watch, when a voice came out of the hatchway sounding smothered but unmistakable as Jarette’s.
“Now then, you sirs. Are there to be any rations served out, or are we to set fire to the ship?”
“Can’t you wait a few minutes?” I said, trying to speak coolly as I saw the two men who had been by the wheel smoking their pipes near the galley and looking on.
“Minutes, you whipper-snapper!” he snarled; “we’ve been waiting hours.”
“If you’re not civil I’ll tell the cook to keep the soup back for an hour.”
“Soup? What soup?” he cried.
“Soup the cook’s getting ready; Dumlow, go and get the biscuit-bag.”
Jarette uttered a grunt, and there was a buzz of voices from below whose tones plainly enough told of eager expectation, for they had been pretty well starved since they had been shut down in the cabin.
Dumlow fetched the bag of biscuits, and with the men watching me I prepared to go forward.