“I was trying to find out whether the bone was injured.”
“Is it broken?” said Oliver, who was wincing with pain.
“No, the bullet never touched it, sir. There’s only a nice clean tunnel through your flesh to heal up.”
“Nice clean tunnel, indeed!” said Oliver, whose deadly faintness was giving way to irritability, caused by the sharp pain. “I only, as I said before, wish I knew who shot me. How could a man be so stupid?”
“Well, I’ll tell you,” said the mate, as he softly dried the wounds. “If people come rushing out of a fog in company with a lot of yelling savages, they can’t expect other people to know the difference. The fact is, my lad, I fired that shot, for it was a bullet out of the captain’s gun.”
“You, Mr Rimmer!”
“Yes, my lad, and I’m very thankful.”
“What, that you shot me?”
“Yes, through the arm instead of through the chest, for I couldn’t have doctored you then.”
“I say! Oh! What are you doing?” cried Oliver.