'Not quite, sir,' says I. 'Mock-turtle soup?' says
the captain, and helps me. I swallow a couple of spoonfuls, and turn as
white as a sheet. The captain cocks his eye at me. 'Go on deck, sir,'
says he; 'get rid of the soup, and then come back to the cabin.' I got
rid of the soup, and came back to the cabin. 'Cod's head-and-shoulders,'
says the captain, and helps me. 'I can't stand it, sir,' says I. 'You
must,' says the captain, 'because it's the cure.' I crammed down a
mouthful, and turned paler than ever. 'Go on deck,' says the captain.
'Get rid of the cod's head, and come back to the cabin.' Off I go, and
back I come. 'Boiled leg of mutton and trimmings,' says the captain, and
helps me. 'No fat, sir,' says I. 'Fat's the cure,' says the captain, and
makes me eat it. 'Lean's the cure,' says the captain, and makes me eat
it. 'Steady?' says the captain. 'Sick,' says I. 'Go on deck,' says the
captain; 'get rid of the boiled leg of mutton and trimmings and come
back to the cabin.' Off I go, staggering--back I come, more dead than
alive. 'Deviled kidneys,' says the captain. I shut my eyes, and got 'em
down. 'Cure's beginning,' says the captain. 'Mutton-chop and pickles.'
I shut my eyes, and got _them_ down. 'Broiled ham and cayenne pepper,'
says the captain. 'Glass of stout and cranberry tart. Want to go on deck
again?' 'No, sir,' says I. 'Cure's done,' says the captain. 'Never
you give in to your stomach, and your stomach will end in giving in to
you.'"

Having stated the moral purpose of his story in those unanswerable
words, John Want took himself and his saucepan into the kitchen.
A moment later, Crayford returned to the hut and astonished Frank
Aldersley by an unexpected question.

"Have you anything in your berth, Frank, that you set a value on?"

"Nothing that I set the smallest value on--when I am out of it," he
replied. "What does your question mean?"

"We are almost as short of fuel as we are of provisions," Crayford
proceeded. "Your berth will make good firing. I have directed Bateson to
be here in ten minutes with his ax."

"Very attentive and considerate on your part," said Frank. "What is
to become of me, if you please, when Bateson has chopped my bed into
fire-wood?"

"Can't you guess?"

"I suppose the cold has stupefied me. The riddle is beyond my reading.
Suppose you give me a hint?"

"Certainly. There will be beds to spare soon--there is to be a change at
last in our wretched lives here. Do you s