Madden pushed back his figures as Gaskin entered with a tray. The cook's
face was scarlet and dripping.
"How much provisions have we on board, Gaskin?"
"Another month's supplies, sir--most of the stores was on the
_Vulcan_, sir." Gaskin was dignified even in the heat.
Leonard turned to his map showing the drift of the dock; she was
swinging farther and farther out of the trade routes every day. The
probability of a rescue steadily decreased.
"In the future, Gaskin, cut rations one third."
The cook covertly swabbed his fat jowl. "Yes, sir--are we about to--" he
checked his question. "Yes, sir," he agreed instead.
"Yes," said Leonard, answering the half question, "it's a very necessary
precaution, and I hope this small reduction will be sufficient."
"Thankee very much, sir." Gaskin made a little bob and withdrew
ceremoniously. Madden knew that Gaskin would continue to bob and thank
as long as he had strength to do either.
Reducing the rations was not a sudden impulse with Madden. Ever since
the first expectation of the _Vulcan's_ return had lost its
immediate edge, the American knew that the hope of final rescue depended
upon conserving their food supply.
The Sargasso Sea is a great oblong whorl in the Atlantic some four
hundred miles wide and fifteen hundred long.
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