“Who served the officers’ dinner, Ming?” pursued the midshipman.
“Ti-so, honourable sir. I say to captain, ‘Me no well; no can do’. He say, ‘Velly good, lay off’, so I lay off till you send for me.”
“Jolly fortunate for me I didn’t have that confounded soup,” thought Raxworthy. “Well, I’m taking no chances. I’ll put Ming under arrest.”
The Chinaman was taken for’ard and placed behind the screen under the charge of an armed seaman.
Raxworthy then went below to the wardroom, where he found that Poundall and the doctor had been lifted upon the settees. On the deck cards lay scattered. Obviously the effect of the drug had a delayed action, since it was after dinner, and the two officers were playing cards, when unconsciousness suddenly overtook them.
Wilverley, too, had gone to his cabin, and was writing a letter before he, too, collapsed. He hadn’t even a chance to ring the bell for assistance.
“Get strong coffee ready,” ordered Raxworthy. “Make them drink plenty when they show signs of regaining consciousness; but no stimulants, mind!”
He did not remain long below. He sensed danger. His place was on deck, since he was the sole remaining officer on board fit for duty.
He went the rounds, visiting the guns’ crews and those in charge of the searchlights, impressing upon them the utmost need for vigilance. Small arms and ball ammunition were served out, and the watch below warned that they might be required in double quick time.
The hours of darkness passed slowly, and with intense anxiety. All was quiet. Not a single craft of any description passed either up-stream or down. Not a light flickered on the reed-fringed banks. The silence and solitude were ominous.