The sailors laughed loudly. In the meantime, Kester’s seconds had gotten him up, and were helping him to a sheltered part of the superstructure, where they assisted him to get into his clothes. The big man was still very unsteady on his feet, and his face was streaked with blood from the unfortunate nose.
“You’ll have to go to Pills to get fixed up.”
Once more the surgeon was called upon to dress Bill Kester’s face and bolster up the flattened nose.
“You’ve been in a fight again, my man,” rebuked the surgeon. “I shall have to make a report of it to the captain. Who hit you!”
“Davis.”
“It will go hard with him, then,” muttered the surgeon. “That young man must have an awful punch.”
The surgeon’s report was duly made to the captain. The latter called his executive officer at once.
“See here, Coates, what’s this about Kester having been in another fight?” he demanded after the executive officer had responded to his summons.
“It wasn’t a fight, sir.”