“It was the steward as filled these kegs,” said Winyard. “I saw him myself pumping out o’ the starboard water cask, which the sea was washing over when the masts went, and draining the salt water in.” He added fiercely, “I’ll lay he took care to fill the kegs of the boat he belonged to with the right kind!”
“Hand that pannikin here,” said Holdsworth; and mixed some rum with the water and tasted it, but the dose was indescribably nauseous.
This discovery was a frightful blow; so overwhelming that it took their minds some minutes to realise it in its full extent.
They were now absolutely without a drop of fresh water in the boat; which fact was made the more terrible by the consideration that, up to the moment of discovery, they had believed themselves stocked with sufficient water to last them for another week at the very least.
They were appalled and subdued to images of stone by this last and worst addition to the series of heavy misfortunes that had befallen them.
Then Winyard, who was already tormented with thirst, for they had permitted themselves to drink no water during the night, began to blaspheme, rolling his eyes wildly and calling curses on the head of the steward for his murderous negligence. He terrified the boy into a passion of tears, which increased his fury, and he stood up and menaced the child with his outstretched fist.
“Sit down!” exclaimed Holdsworth, in a voice that fell like a blow upon the ear. “You are going mad some days too soon, you lubber! Do you hear me? Sit down!”
The man scowled at him, and then threw himself backwards into the bows of the boat.