So it's roasting alive--or this.

I recommend this." "And what might that be, my Lord ?" said the old engineer, looking at the bottle which his master held out towards him.
"That's morphine--poison.

Fill that up with water, drink it, and in half an hour you'll be dead without knowing it.

Of course, you won't take it until there's absolutely no hope; but, granted that, you'll find this a better death than roasting or baking alive." Then his voice changed suddenly as he went on, "Of course, I need not say now, Murgatroyd, how deeply I regret now that I asked you to come in the _Astronef_." "My Lord, my people have served yours for seven hundred years, and, whether on Earth or among the stars, where you go it is my duty to go also.

But don't ask me to take the poison.