Blue Jackets Part 27

To my horror and astonishment, I saw that his leg was bandaged, and a red stain was showing through.

"Why, Tanner, old chap," I cried, catching his hand as my eyes were blurred; "I didn't know you were hurt."

He looked quite pleased at my weakness, and the emotion I showed.

"Oh, it ain't much," he said, smiling and holding on to my hand very tightly; "but it pringles and sticks a bit, I mean stingles--no, I don't! My tongue's getting all in a knot, it tingles and p.r.i.c.ks a bit.

I say, Gnat, old chap, you don't think those chaps carry poisoned knives, do you?"

"What, like the Malays? Oh no."

"I'm glad of that, because it made me feel a bit funky. I thought this stinging might mean the poison spreading."

"Oh no, don't think that," I cried; "and some one told me a Malay prince said it was all nonsense about the knives being poisoned."

"He did?"

"Yes; he laughed, and said there was no need to poison them, they were quite sharp enough to kill a man without."

"That depends on where you put it in," said Barkins grimly.

"Yes," I said; "but what did the doctor say?"

"What about?"

"Your leg."

"He hasn't seen it yet."

"Why, Tanner," I cried, "you haven't had it properly bandaged."

"No; I felt so sick when I got on board, that I sneaked off here to lie down a bit. Besides, he had poor old Blacksmith to see to, and the other chaps."

"But didn't he see the bandage when you went there?"

"No; there was no bandage then. It's only a bit of a scratch; I tied it up myself."

"How was it?"

"I don't hardly know. It was done in a scuffle somehow, when we had got the first prisoner in hand. He began laying about him with a knife, and gave it to two of our lads badly, and just caught me in the leg. It was so little that I didn't like to make a fuss about it. Here, stop, don't leave a chap. I want to talk to you."

"Back directly," I cried, and I hurried on deck so quickly that I nearly blundered up against Mr Reardon.

"Manners, midshipman!" he said sharply. "Stop, sir. Where are you going?"

"Doctor, sir."

"What, are you hurt, my lad?" he cried anxiously.

"No, sir, but poor Barkins is."

"Bless my soul, how unfortunate! Mr Smith down too! Where is he?"

I told him, and he hurried with me to the doctor, who was putting on his coat, after finishing the last dressing of the injured men.

"Here, doctor," cried Mr Reardon sharply, "I've another man down--boy, I mean."

"What, young Smith? I've dressed his wound."

"No, no; Barkins has been touched too."

"Tut, tut!" cried the doctor, taking up a roll of bandage. "Are they bringing him?"

"No, sir; he's sitting by his berth. He tied up the wound himself."

Without another word the doctor started off, and we followed to where Barkins sat by the table with his back leaning against the side of his berth, and as soon as he caught sight of us he darted a reproachful look at me.

"Oh, I say, Gnat," he whispered, "this is too bad." For the doctor had raised the leg, and, after taking off the handkerchief, roughly tied round just above the knee, made no scruple about slitting up the lad's trousers with an ugly-looking knife, having a hooky kind of blade.

"Bad?" said Mr Reardon anxiously.

"Oh dear, no," replied the doctor. "Nice clean cut. Sponge and water, youngster. Ha, yes," he continued, as he applied the cool, soft sponge to the bleeding wound, "avoided all the vessels nicely."

"Gnat, old chap," whispered Barkins, as I half supported him, "pinch me, there's a good fellow."

"What for?" I whispered back.

"Feel sicky and queer. Don't let me faint before him."

"Here, hallo! Barkins, don't turn like a great girl over a scratch-- lower his head down, boy. That's the way. He'll soon come round. Ever see a wound dressed before?"

"No, sir," I said, repressing a shudder.

"Don't tease the boys, doctor," said Mr Reardon sharply; "get the wound dressed."

"Well, I am dressing it, arn't I?" said the doctor cheerily, and as if he enjoyed his task. "I must draw the edges together first."

He had taken what seemed to be a pocket-book from his breast and laid it open, and as I looked on, feeling sick myself, I saw him really put in three or four st.i.tches, and then strap up and bandage the wound, just as Barkins came to and looked about wonderingly.

"I didn't faint, did I?" he said anxiously.

The doctor laughed.

"There, lie down in your berth," he said. "Let me help you."

He a.s.sisted my messmate gently enough, and then said laughingly--

"One can dress your wound without having three men to hold you. I say, Reardon, isn't it waste of good surgical skill for me to be dressing the prisoners' wounds, if you folk are going to hang them?"

"I don't know that we are going to hang them," said the lieutenant quietly. "Perhaps we shall deliver them over to the Chinese authorities at w.a.n.ghai."