It was not a severe one, though it had bled so freely. He had been struck from behind with some long, sharp weapon that had entered near the armpit, passed through the flesh of the right side, and come out through the skin near the breast bone.
The other sailors, seeing Justin stripped to his waist and covered with blood, came running to him with expressions of alarm and sympathy, for by his bravery and kindness he had become a general favorite.
They were all vociferous in their demands for the surgeon. But Justin checked them with a word.
“My good friends,” he said, “there are many poor fellows who need the surgeon much more than I do; let him attend to them first.” And then he sent a cabin boy for some water, towels, and clean clothes from his stateroom.
At this moment Lieutenant Ethel came out of the cabin. Seeing the men grouped idly around the gun carriage, he came up to order them to their duties, when, perceiving the state of Justin, he exclaimed:
“Good Heaven, Mr. Rosenthal! You wounded, too?”
“Yes; but very slightly. Give yourself no uneasiness, lieutenant.”
“Has the surgeon been sent for?”
“No, and pray do not send for him. Leave him to attend to the poor fellows who need him more than I do.”
“I insist upon sending for him. All our badly injured men have been looked to. And now that I see your hurt is not the trifle you would make it out to be. Here, Jones, go down to the cockpit and desire the surgeon to come up at once. Men, to your duties!”