The breaker was upended in a moment. Jenks stove in the head with an oar handle, and we peered inside.
The water was a clear crystal, like that in the Sovereign's tanks. It was not discolored in the least.
"Pass the bailer here," I said; "and then turn the barrel so we can get the sunlight into it."
I bailed out a few quarts, looked at it carefully, tasted it slightly, and then put it carefully back again. I noticed a strange acrid taste. The barrel was turned toward the sun, and its light was allowed to shine straight into its depths. I put my head down close to the surface and peered hard at the bottom. Then I was aware of a whitish powder which showed against the dark wood. Reaching down, some of this was brought up; and then I recognized the same powder Captain Sackett had told me was bichloride of mercury.
By this time Tom was in convulsions. He strained horribly, and we could do nothing to relieve his agony. Brandy was given, but it did no good, and finally he lost consciousness. Miss Sackett nursed him tenderly and did all she could to make him comfortable, but it was no use.
The horror of the thing fairly took my senses for a moment. There we were, miles away from land, without water. The villains had meant us to tell no tales. All adrift in an open boat, with food and water poisoned, we had a small chance indeed of ever telling the story of the Sovereign's loss. Vessels were not plentiful at the high latitude we were in; and, as we were out of the trade, it was doubtful if we could even get into the track of the regular Cape route inside a week, to say nothing of being picked up. It seemed as though Andrews' villany would finish us yet.
Far away on the southern horizon, the single mast stuck up above the blue water like a black rod. I stood up and gazed at it. Chips appeared to read my thoughts, for he spoke out:—
"'Tis no use now, sir; the tanks would be a couple o' fathoms deep, an' we couldn't get at them. She won't float more'n a day or two, anyhow, wid th' afterdeck an' cargo burnt free. She'll go under as soon as the oil's washed out wid a sea, and that'll be th' last av a bad ship."
I saw that the carpenter was right. There was no water for either Andrews or ourselves, and it would be foolish to go back to force the tank.
"Heave the stuff overboard," I said, and Johnson and Jenks raised the barrel upon the rail. It poured out clear into the blue ocean, and showed no sign of its deadly character.