“Then fetch them limes I bought.” As the boy went out, the captain turned to me with a grin. “Did you ever drink Turk's sherbet?” he said. “No,” I answered. “I've never even heard of it. What is it?” “Why,” he said, “it's a drink the heathen Turks make out of citron. A powder which fizzes. I got some of it last autumn when I made a voyage to Scanderoon. It's been too cold ever since to want to drink any, as it's a summer drink mostly. Now you shall have some.” He took down some tumblers from the rack in which they stood. “Here's glasses,” he said. “Now the sherbet is in this bottle here.” He produced a pint glass bottle from one of the lockers. It was stopped with a wooden plug, carved in the likeness of a Turk's head. It was about three parts full of a whitish powder. A label on the side of the bottle gave directions for its preparation. When the boy returned with his tray, the captain squeezed the juice of half a lime into each of the three tumblers. “That's the first thing,” he said. “Lime juice. Now the water.” He poured water into each glass, till they were nearly full. “White of egg is said to make it better,” he said to me. “But at sea I guess we must do without that. Now then. You're the singer, so you drink first. Be ready to drink it while it fizzes; for then it's at its best. Are you ready?” I was quite ready, so the captain filled his spoon with the soft white powder. Glancing round at Aurelia I saw that she had covered her eyes with her hand. “Won't Miss Carew drink first?” I asked. “I don't want any,” she said in a low voice. Before I could speak another word the captain had poured his heaped spoonful of powder into my glass. “Stir it up, boy,” he cried. “Down with it while it fizzes.” Aurelia rose to her feet, catching her breath sharply. I remember a pleasant taste, as though all of the fruits of the world had been crushed together into a syrup; then a mist surged all about me, the cabin became darker, the captain seemed to grow vast, till his body filled the room. My legs melted from me. I was one little wavering flame blowing about on great waves. Something was hard upon my head. The captain's hand (I could feel) was lifting my eyelid. I heard him say “That's got him.” Instantly a choir of voices began to chant “That's got him,” in roaring, tumultuous bursts of music. Then the music became, as it were, present, but inaudible; there were waves of sound all round me, but my ears were deafened to them. I had been put out of action by some very powerful drug, I remember no more of that evening's entertainment. I was utterly unconscious.