"They're scratching," Charles exclaimed.
He wasn't quite right. The skipper and the mate of the Beautiful Joe were trying to scratch, but they didn't have enough hands. They were groaning, and bleating, and begging for aid as they wriggled.
Cousin Aurelia gave Possett a push with her foot.
"I'm soaked to the skin," she announced. "Betty, help me off with this dress. If I don't wring my petticoat out, I'll catch something."
"Why, Cousin Aurelia!" Charles blurted. "In front of the captain?"
"And why not?" she demanded. "I have undies on, don't I?"
The captain broke in, his voice urgent. "We've got to get these characters back aboard in a hurry! They can't live on Sugar Plum; they're the wrong kind of people. I started to tell you. They're allergic to the critters, the trees, the natives—to everything here. You, Steward!" He beckoned. "Call the crew of the Beautiful Joe."
The robot ran to the ship. It whistled. Immediately, four other robots appeared.
"Bosun," said the captain to the one in the lead, "Captain Possett is ill. He is—er—delirious. The mate, too. Carry them in. And take off quickly for New Texas."
"Aye, aye, sir." The bosun saluted.