"I say, shipmate," he whispered, shaking the mate by the shoulder.
"What do you want?" he growled.
"Wake up," said Simpson; "I've got a nice pie for you; do you want it?"
"Of course I do," answered the mate, taking it from Simpson's hand. "But
who are you?" he inquired, for it was so dark that he could not have
recognized the features of his most intimate friend.
"I'm Jack Smith," answered Simpson; "but I can't stop to talk with you,
for some one may discover me;" and before Jenkins could detain him, he had
slipped off quietly in the darkness.
It was as Simpson had said--the pie had made "on purpose for them." When
Blinks saw that it was impossible to discover the guilty party, he ordered
his steward to make a nice large pie, into which he put two doses of
jalap. It was his intention to make the offender sick; and he told the
doctor what he had done, and requested him to keep an eye on all who came
to him for medicine.
The next morning Jenkins was not heard blowing his whistle, but was seen
moving slowly about the ship, with a pale, woe-begone countenance; and as
soon as the doctor appeared, he made application to go on the "sick-list.
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