" He
stepped quickly to the kit bag, replaced the bottle and cap inside and
closed it. Like many alcohol users he labored under the delusion that
alcohol was not offensive on his _breath_.
"Nervous shock you received seemed to upset you more than the punch," he
diagnosed in a concerned voice. "You Americans are a high-strung
nation." He paused a moment philosophically. "I daresay you're right
about not drinking spirits. With your nervous organism, it would set you
on fire. But our foggy English climate and stodgy people call for it.
Sets our pulses going. A thought just here--Climate and Alcoholism. Not
a bad subject for a scientific investigation, is it?"
Madden grunted.
"I'll blow out the light unless you'll have me rub some more of that
villainous stuff on your ribs?"
The patient declined this.
"Need water or medicine during the night throw your boots at me--I'm
hard to wake,"
Then he puffed out the light.
[Illustration: Out There Lay Adventure, Mystery--More Than Either
Dreamed.]
CHAPTER III
THE LAST OF THE _VULCAN_
A temporary rudder had been installed on the unwieldy dry dock, and each
twenty-four hours Mate Malone detailed seven men to stand watch, which
gave the regulation dog watch, although there was no need of it with a
double complement of men.
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