“To save their lives and give them up to the authorities at Tsin-Tsin, I suppose.”
“Yes, sir.”
“For them to be put on their trial for piracy on the high seas.”
“Yes, sir, that’s it; but it would be a greater kindness to let the wretches die out of their misery.”
“But some of them mayn’t be guilty,” I said.
The boatswain laughed.
“I don’t think there’s much doubt about that, sir,” he said. Just then, as the last man was treated by the sergeant, the doctor came on deck with his assistants, both in white aprons and sleeves—well, I’m a little incorrect there—in aprons and sleeves that had been white.
“I’ve no business here,” said the doctor hurriedly; “but these men cannot be left. Keep an eye on them, my men, and don’t let them do me any mischief. I can’t be spared just now.”
The next moment he was down on his knees by the side of one of the prisoners, who, in his eyes for a few minutes, was neither enemy nor piratical Chinaman, but a patient to whom he devoted himself to the full extent of his skill, performing what was needful, and leaving his assistant to finish the bandaging while he went on to the next.
In another ten minutes he had finished, and rose from his knees.