“Would to God it had been so!” exclaimed Hildebrand. “But let us not forget thy wound! How fares it with thee?”
While Donna Inez, in a low voice, was giving him a reply, the silent pantler entered, with a bason of warm water, and a napkin. Hildebrand then raised her a little; and, keeping his back to the pantler, succeeded, after some difficulty, in relieving her of her jacket, and baring her wound to view. He turned paler as he beheld it:
“Bring hither the water,” he cried to the pantler, “and hold it up to the berth. Now for thy sponge.”
The pantler, without making any oral answer, presented him with the sponge, and held the bason of water in the manner directed. Thus assisted, Hildebrand proceeded, with a tender hand, to wipe away the blood from the Donna’s wound, and cleanse it thoroughly. Having effected that object, he drew some lint and salve, such as was then greatly in use, from the locker below, and therewith supplied it with a soothing dressing. Over this, to keep off any irritation, he laid a piece of dry lint, and bound all up with a bandage.
“Now, will I not let thee speak more till to-morrow,” he said, when he had thus attended her. “But our good pantler, whom thou mayst trust in all things, will watch thee through the night, and get thee whatsoever thou listest. For me, I must hie to the deck.”
Inez was about to reply, but Hildebrand, putting on a serious look, raised his finger to his lips, and she forbore. Leaving the pantler to watch her, Hildebrand turned on one side, and caught up some dry clothes, which, during his absence from the ship, the careful pantler had laid out against his return. As he had been exposed to the storm without a cloak, he was wet to the skin; and even the strong excitement he had been labouring under, and the robustness and vigour of his frame, though equal to a trying ordeal, did not render him insensible to the chilling influence of his saturated garments. The greater need of Inez attended to, he proceeded to throw them off, and to don those which, he now discovered, had been set out for his use by the pantler.
He turned away when he had thus changed his attire, and, with a quick step, passed to the contiguous hatchway, and ascended to the deck.
The storm had subsided, and the excessive darkness, which had been its leading and most terrible feature, had materially diminished. The gale, it is true, continued high, but, as it swept away the exhausted thunder-clouds, this served rather to clear the atmosphere, than otherwise. One could now distinguish the outlines of the shore, and, here and there, the broken sky, with the clouds flying over it like wind. The water, too, though not a whit calmer, could be viewed to a greater distance, and looked a degree less boisterous under the increased light.
While Hildebrand noted these particulars, his eye, in looking down the river, was attracted to two distinct flashes of light, which were quickly followed by the report of cannon. Turning to inquire what this could mean, his glance fell on Master Halyard.