I reported the progress of what I had done to Mr Brymer, and then waited for further orders. "I think I'll stand out of this business altogether now, Dale," he said. "Wait a few minutes and then take one of the men, say Dumlow, and serve out the stuff to them, passing down a fresh supply of biscuits as well. What's the matter?" I flushed up. "I--I don't quite like doing it, Mr Brymer," I said. He looked at me angrily, but his face softened directly. "No," he said, "it is not a pleasant task. It seems treacherous and cruel, but I cannot show myself in the matter. They might turn suspicious. Some one in authority must go, and it is a work of sheer necessity. You will have to go, Dale." "Yes, sir, I'll go," I said firmly. "I don't like it, but I know it is right." "Go on then, my lad, and carry it through for all our sakes. Be careful that the man with you does not touch it." I nodded, and the time being near, I thrust my hands into my pockets, and began to whistle as I walked forward, passed the galley, and I was about to speak to Dumlow, who was on the watch, when a voice came out of the hatchway sounding smothered but unmistakable as Jarette's. "Now then, you sirs. Are there to be any rations served out, or are we to set fire to the ship?" "Can't you wait a few minutes?" I said, trying to speak coolly as I saw the two men who had been by the wheel smoking their pipes near the galley and looking on. "Minutes, you whipper-snapper!" he snarled; "we've been waiting hours." "If you're not civil I'll tell the cook to keep the soup back for an hour." "Soup? What soup?" he cried. "Soup the cook's getting ready; Dumlow, go and get the biscuit-bag." Jarette uttered a grunt, and there was a buzz of voices from below whose tones plainly enough told of eager expectation, for they had been pretty well starved since they had been shut down in the cabin. Dumlow fetched the bag of biscuits, and with the men watching me I prepared to go forward. "Better let me do it, sir," growled Bob Hampton; "they may shoot." "No, I don't think they will," I said quietly, as I looked aft to see that my friends were, like the men hard by, watching me, and Barney Blane right aft at the wheel. "Look here, below there," I said, trying to keep my voice steady, for I felt horribly nervous, and could not help thinking that if anything went wrong the mutineers would visit what had been done on me. "Look here, you, I'm going to serve out biscuits and soup. I shall hand the tins down through the hole in the hatch. Fair play. No pistols now." "Let's have the soup, and don't chatter, boy," said Jarette, sharply, and just then the cook came out smiling with a bucket nearly full of steaming, fragrant-smelling soup, and the man who had been by the wheel came behind him carrying a dozen tin mugs whose handles were strung on a piece of rope.