clung sweatily to the muscular ridges down his back and moulded the graceful deltoid at the shoulder.
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 theVulcan, 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
