"Here we are!" I said, strung up now to get the miserable business over as quickly as I could, and just then the cook set the bucket down on the deck, and began to stir it with a big iron ladle. "Lot o' preserved vegetables and herbs and all in it, sir," he exclaimed. "If I don't stir they'll go to the bottom." "Oh, keep stirring!" I said huskily, as I took a tin, made Dumlow lay some biscuits on the wooden boarding over the hatch, and I held the tin ready while the cook filled it from the ladle. The next minute, with my hand trembling, I handed the first tin and a biscuit down, for both to be snatched from me. Then I shivered and felt that all was over, for a familiar voice said-- "Taste that, one of you, and see if it's all right." "Oh, that's all right! Mister Jarette. Plenty o' salt, pepper, and dried herbs in it," said the cook. Then there was a peculiar noise below, slightly suggestive of pigs, and a voice said-- "Jolly hot, but--suss!--good--capital!" "Here, look sharp, skipper, make haste! Here, I'm first," and a dozen other expressions greeted my ear, as, gaining courage, I had a second one filled and passed it down, leaving it to Dumlow now to hand down the biscuits, while as every portion was served there were grunts of satisfaction, and the cook smiled and looked as proud as could be. "Here you, cookie, _bon chef_," cried Jarette; "I'll promote you as soon as I come to my rights. Ladle away." The cook did ladle away, and I handed the tins, moved by a kind of frenzy, so eager was I to get the horrible task over, while my heart beat furiously. I shivered as I heard the men below laughing and talking, as they praised the cook's performance, little imagining the hand I had had in the preparation. But I thought of how horrible it would be if the drug proved too strong for some of the men, or if others got more than their share through its settling down, and in spite of the vigorous use the cook made of his ladle as we neared the bottom, I felt worse and worse, feeling as I did at last, that we were sending down to some of the men that which might prove to be their death. "That's all!" shouted the cook at last, giving the upturned tin bucket a loud banging with his ladle, and a loud murmur of disappointment came up through the opening. "Be good boys, then, and I'll make you another lot to-morrow. Why, Mr Dale, sir," he said, turning to me, "it has made you hot; your face is all over great drops." "Is it?" I said, rather faintly; "I suppose it is very hot." But all the same I felt cold and ready to shiver, while to escape notice I hurried aft and entered the saloon where the gentlemen were waiting, Mr Brymer following me in. "Well!" he said eagerly. "They've taken it to the last drop," I panted, and then to the doctor--"Oh, Mr Frewen, I feel as if I had been committing a dozen murders. I wish I had not said a word about the soup." CHAPTER THIRTY.