"You will address me," suggested the little outlaw, "as 'Sir.' Very well, Slops. I want you to prepare a meal for us. A _good_ meal. Fresh meats and vegetables. You have no idea--" He drawled this last to Hanson. "How one wearies of canned concentrates." Hanson just glowered. But Biggs looked confused. He said, "I--I'll have to get produce from the storage bins if you want a big meal. This galley's small--" He looked about him helplessly. Hake nodded. "That is granted. But, mind you, attempt no medieval--ah--toxicological exploits. I remember the chef of the _Spica_ tried something of the sort. Poor lad! He screamed horribly ... I shall never forget it." [Illustration: "MIND YOU," SAID THE PIRATE ICILY, "NO FANCY MEDICI FLAVORING TO THIS MEAL."] I bet he wouldn't! The louse. But I hoped, now, that Biggs would understand I had been right. He couldn't pull any funny business on Runt and get away with it. He seemed to understand, all right. He said, goggling, "I'll do the best I can--sir. It will take a little time, of course." "We have time and to spare," agreed Hake. "A good meal, that is what we want. And now, gentlemen--?" He motioned us toward the turret room. We started to leave the galley. I was the last to pass through the door. As I did so, I felt a fumbling at my side. Mr. Biggs was shoving something into my pocket. He whispered in my ear, "Sparks--give each of our men a piece. Tell them to chew it!" * * * * * For a moment my hopes flamed high. I didn't know what Biggs had up his sleeve, but I dared dream that he had devised some way of overcoming the pirate menace. But when I managed to get away, unobserved, a few minutes later to see what he had thrust in my jacket, my hopes died as suddenly as they had been born. The stuff was nothing but pepsin. Plain, ordinary pepsin; a by-product from the outspread Venusian ranches. I was half minded to chuck the damn stuff away. I thought maybe worry, desperation, had made Biggs slip his gravs. Then I thought better of it. After all, he may have had some reason. And in a spot like this, any gamble was worth taking.... So, slowly, I started getting the stuff distributed around. I managed to slip half the package to Doug Enderby, the steward, with instructions to get it to the black gang. I met Chief Garrity 'tween decks, and gave him some for his engine room crew. Todd took a piece, wondering, reluctant, but put it in his mouth when I signalled him to do so. Me? Sure, I had some, too. After all, it tasted good. And a man might as well check out with a clean taste in his mouth. The only man I couldn't slip a piece to at any time was Cap Hanson. Runt Hake had the old eagle eye on the Skipper. Matter of fact, Hake had the eagle eye on all of us. He didn't miss a trick, that murderous little squirt. Just before dinner was served he made my heart miss a beat when he asked, "What are you chewing on, Sparks? Gum?"