Sail Ho! Part 32

"Captain Berriman and Mr Brymer both wounded again in the struggle, when the men rushed into the saloon after the explosion. Now shut up in their cabins."

"But the pa.s.sengers; ask him about the pa.s.sengers," whispered Mr Frewen.

I asked, and the answer came back--

"No one hurt."

I saw Mr Frewen close his eyes at this, and his lips moved as I felt sure in prayer.

"Yes?" I whispered back, as Mr Preddle said something which sounded all buzz, buzz, buzz.

"I say, what will those wretches do with us?"

"I don't know."

"Will they kill us and throw us overboard?"

"No," I whispered through. "If they had meant that, they would have done it at once. But don't talk any more now."

"Buzz, buzz, buzz."

"What say?"

"Buzz, talk, buzz, buzz."

I opened my penknife, for I knew that the reason why Mr Preddle's words sounded so buzzy, was that a lot of little bits of wood were sticking up through the hole left by the gimlet. And so it proved, for after a little cutting all the words sounded clearly enough, and he promised to wait till I had attended to Mr Frewen's injuries before asking any more questions.

"Yes," he said, "I'll wait; but when one is in prison, and can talk to the prisoners next door, it does seem to do one good."

I had just knelt down to see to Mr Frewen's head, when I heard my name p.r.o.nounced again.

"Yes," I cried impatiently, "what is it?"

"Only a word," said Mr Preddle.

"Quick, then."

"You were out on the deck some time, weren't you?"

"Yes; a long time," I replied impatiently. "Why?"

"Could you see how my poor fishes were getting on?"

"No, I couldn't," I said gruffly, for my temper was as sore as my body just then, and Mr Preddle irritated me; he did seem so girlish and weak.

"Now, Mr Frewen," I said, "tell me what to do to your head."

"Leave it alone," he said, smiling, "or no, perhaps you had better do something to it; I shall be better and stronger, and I want all my strength now."

"To help get back the ship?" I said.

"Yes, of course. Now then, my lad," he continued, "you must think that you are a surgeon's mate or dresser." I nodded.

"You will not mind?"

"Of course not, sir."

"Then go to that drawer, and you will find scissors, lint, bandages, and strapping."

I went to the drawer, and there, neatly arranged, were the articles he had described, in company with many more.

"Now get water, sponge, and towel," he said, and this I did.

"Now go to work and cut away the hair, so that you can see what damage is done."

"But I'm afraid--"

"What?"

"Of hurting you."

"Then set that aside, boy," he said, smiling. "A surgeon must take all the care he can, but he must not be afraid of hurting his patient. Go on."

It was not quite my first surgical experiment, for I had bound up cut fingers before then, and once roughly tended to the broken arm of a school-fellow, who had fallen in climbing a tree, though my attention merely consisted in laying the arm straight and bandaging it with a woollen comforter, while the doctor was fetched; but all the same I felt very hot, nervous, and uncomfortable, as, in following out Mr Frewen's instructions, I cut away the hair, bathed the place, and told him exactly what I saw, horrible as it was.

"Pooh!" he said, with a little laugh. "A mere scratch. Why, if it were a patient I was attending--you, for instance--I should say you were making a miserable fuss about nothing."

"But it is very bad, sir," I said. "Why, you were quite insensible."

"Yes, Dale, that was the contusion. One of the chests must have been driven against my head like a square shot. Well, there's one comfort, the skull isn't cracked. Now cut some strips of that plaister, and place them across and across."

I followed out his instructions, and ended by laying some lint over the wound and securing all with a neatly sewn on bandage.

He turned very pale twice over as I was busy, and, in obedience to a whisper, I took down a bottle and measured out some of its contents, afterwards administering the dose in water.

"Not pleasant stuff, Dale," he said, smiling feebly, "and it's rather hard lines, as you lads would call it, for a doctor to have to take his own stuff; but you see I have a nasty crack, and if I had not been a particularly thick-headed sort of fellow, I'm afraid I should not have wanted another."

"What is that you have taken?" I asked. "Only ammonia--sal volatile--a capital stimulus when faintness comes on. There, I'm better now, and I dare say I shall do. I can examine you now. Ribs broken, eh?"

"I thought so, sir."

"And I'm sure you are wrong, my lad. If your ribs, or even one rib, had been fractured, you could not have gone on working for me like that.

You would have been in agony."

"Well, it does hurt pretty tidily, sir."

"Perhaps so, Dale, but not to the extent it would under those circ.u.mstances. There, I'm better now. Help me to sit up." I helped him, and he turned ghastly.

"Feel faint, sir?" I said.