“Last night he was carried to his own ship.” And David’s face was grave almost to sternness.
“Carried! Have you then hurt him, David?”
“No; he is a self-hurter. But this is what I know. He went from here to Matilda Sabiston’s house. She had gone to kirk with two of her servants, and when she came back she found him delirious on the sofa. Then the doctor was sent for, and when he said the word ‘typhus,’ Matilda shrieked with passion, and demanded that he should be instantly taken away.”
“But no! Surely not!”
“Yes; it was so. Both the minister and the doctor said it was right and best for him to be taken to his own ship. The town–yes, indeed, and the whole islands were in danger. And when they took him on board the Sea Rover, they found that two of the sailors were also very ill with the fever. They had been ill for a week, and Sinclair knew it; yet he came among the boats, and went through the town, speaking to many people. It was a wicked thing for him to do.”
“It was just like him. Where is the Sea Rover now lying?”
“She has been taken to the South Voe. The fishing-boats will watch lest the men are landed, and the doctor will go to the ship every day the sea will let him go.”
“David, is it my duty–”
“No, it is not; there are five men with Sinclair. Three of them are, I believe, yet well men, and three can care for the sick and the ship. On the deck of the Sea Rover a woman should not put her foot.”
“But a ship with typhus on board?”