“It seems to me, sir, that it must. There’s half-a-dozen of us, and one has to take his chance so that the other five may live.”
“Our position is not so bad as that, Griggs,” said the doctor warmly.
“I don’t want to contradict, sir, but I about think it is. It’s the sort of time like you read about at sea when they cast lots and one has to swim ashore with a rope so as to get help. We must have that water, and Mr Wilton here says he won’t risk the job of fetching the kegs, so it rests with five of us instead of six. Then you go a bit further and one says, here’s three men and two boys, and we who are men can’t hold back and let a boy go.”
“Certainly not,” said the doctor and Bourne, as if in one voice.
“Then we come down to three,” continued Griggs, “and one of them is the boss of the expedition—the captain. He can’t go, of course. So you see, Mr Bourne, it lies between us two.”
“No, no,” cried the doctor, “between us three.”
“Us two, Mr Bourne,” said the American, almost fiercely. “The doctor’s out of it. Now, sir, you’re a deal better man than I am in learning and proper living, and several other things that I’ve noticed since we’ve been neighbours, all through your having been a minister, I suppose?”
“I am but a man, Griggs, with the weaknesses of my nature.”
“Exactly, sir,” cried the American, totally misconstruing the speaker’s meaning. “That’s what I was aiming at—weaknesses of your nature. Consequently I’m a much better man than you are for this job. So we want no casting lots, for I’m going to get those kegs out of that serpent’s nest, if I die for it.”
“No, no,” cried the doctor fiercely. “I will not consent to your going. We must try some other plan.”