The surgeon came in, and Captain Delmar then said to him, “Is this all true that Cross has been telling me? Have I really fought a duel and killed my adversary?”
“I regret to say, sir, that he is dead, and was buried yesterday; but, if you please, you must not talk any more at present—you must be quiet for a few hours.”
“Well, doctor, so that my honour is saved, I am content to obey you—it’s very odd—” Here the captain was exhausted, and was silent, and in a few minutes he was again asleep, and remained slumbering till the next morning, when he was much better. He then entered into conversation with the surgeon, making him describe the duel; and the latter did so, so as to satisfy the captain; and he also informed him that I had been taken ill with the fever, and was in the next room.
“Next room!” replied the captain: “why was he not sent on board? Are all the midshipmen who are taken ill to be brought to my house to be cured?”
I overheard this reply of the captain, and it cut me to the heart. I felt what an invincible pride had to be conquered before I could obtain my wishes.
The surgeon answered Captain Delmar,—“As only you and Mr Keene were taken with the fever, I thought it better that he should remain here, than that the ship’s company should take it by his being sent on board. I trust, Captain Delmar, I have done right?”
“Yes, I see,” replied the captain; “you did perfectly right—I did not think of that. I hope Mr Keene is doing well?”
“I trust that we shall get him through it, sir,” replied the surgeon.
“Pray let him have anything that he requires, Mr —; let him want for nothing during his illness and convalescence. He would be a heavy loss to the service,” added the captain.
“He would, indeed, sir,” replied the surgeon.