The messenger went on his errand. The seamen dispersed at the order. And soon the good doctor came.
“Ah! Mr. Rosenthal wounded? I thought it hardly possible for you to have escaped, if all were true that I had heard of you. Not badly hurt, I hope? Let me see! This fellow had struck at you from behind, and with a dagger, too. May Satan fly away with the cowardly assassin! If he can be identified, he ought to be hanged!”
“Never mind him now! I don’t care to have him identified. And I don’t think the wound severe.”
“No, it is not severe! A few days’ rest and regimen will set you all right.”
The doctor soon closed the wound, and then told Justin to lean on his arm while he led him to his stateroom.
But Justin asked the doctor first to send down to the cabin, and get the women out upon some pretence, as he did not wish to distress Miss Conyers with needless fears.
“Miss Conyers! Why, bless you, my dear fellow, I left Miss Conyers in the cockpit, hovering like an angel of mercy over the poor wounded sailors there, ministering to their wants, alleviating their sufferings and bringing smiles to faces that before her coming had been wrung with anguish! She is a lovely woman,” said the doctor.
“Heaven knows she is,” responded Justin.
The doctor now supported his patient to the stateroom, laid him in the berth, and after a few moments left him in a refreshing sleep.