“Pass the word for the doctor,” came the cry. “Pass the word, there.”
And here came Wellard, whitefaced, hurrying.
“Pass the word for the doctor. Call Dr Clive.”
“Who’s hurt, Wellard?” asked Bush.
“The ccaptain, sir.”
Wellard looked distraught and shaken, but now Hornblower made his appearance behind him. Hornblower was pale, too, and breathing hard, but he seemed to have command of himself. The glance which he threw round him in the dim light of the lanterns passed over Bush without apparent recognition.
“Get Dr Clive!” he snapped at one midshipman peering out from the midshipmen’s berth; and then to another, “You there. Run for the first lieutenant. Ask him to come below here. Run!”
Hornblower’s glance took in Whiting and travelled forward to where the marines were snatching their muskets from the racks.
“Why are your men turning out, Captain Whiting?”
“Captain’s orders.”