“Now, Rodney!” came from below sharply.
“Coming, uncle!” cried the boy, snatching at the brass rail, which, like every bit of metal about the beautiful vessel, shone as brightly as if it were part of a yacht.
The doctor was standing at the foot of the stairs with his hand upon a door, which he had just unlocked, and he led the way into a well-lit portion of the vessel which had originally been intended for the stowage of cargo, but which was now fitted up with an endless number of arrangements such as had been deemed necessary for the carrying out of the expedition.
One portion was like a chemical laboratory. Upon dresser-like tables fitted against the bulkhead were rows of railed-in bottles and jars, and beneath them new bright microscopes and other apparatus such as would gladden the heart of a naturalist. But the doctor gave merely a cursory glance at these various objects, with whose arrangement he had long been familiar, and made his way to where, set up on end upon a stout bench, were about a dozen specially made spirit casks, each fitted with its tap and a little receptacle hung beneath to catch any drops that might leak away.
“Here, I want to test these,” said the doctor; “and, by the way, ask Captain Chubb to step down.”
There was no need, for almost at the same moment the captain’s heavy step was heard upon the metal-covered cabin stairs.
“Anything I can do, sir?” he asked, in his gruff way.
“Yes, look here, captain,” said the doctor, and he took a bright glass measure from where it hung by its foot in a little rack, safe from falling by the rolling of the vessel; “I was just going to test these spirits, and I thought I should like you to be here.”
“Hah!” said the captain. “I’ve thought a deal about all them little barrels put so handy there, ready on tap, and it’s the only thing I don’t like, Dr Robson.”
“Why?” said Uncle Paul shortly.