“No,” said the doctor gravely. “Nature is her doctor now.”
“What do you mean?” said the young man, half annoyed by the doctor’s inaction.
“That she is in the hands of a kinder doctor than I could be—one who knows what is best for her. Look!”
He shrugged his shoulders and turned away.
“Let your men cut a few of those big leaves, Mr Murray, and lay over her.”
“You are too late?” said Roberts excitedly.
“Yes, my dear boy,” replied the doctor. “With such hurts as the poor girl had received it was only a matter of time. Ah, I wish to goodness we had caught that schooner! It’s time all this was stamped out. There, come away and bring your men. Oh, here comes Mr Anderson. Well, what are you going to do?” For the first lieutenant came up, followed by some of his men, glanced at the motionless figure and the action being taken, and turned away.
“What am I going to do?” he replied, frowning angrily. “Nothing but communicate with the captain for fresh instructions.”
“But aren’t we going to pursue the black chief and his people through the forest, sir, and punish them?” asked Murray, who was strangely moved by his first encounter with the horrors of a slave encampment.
“No, Mr Murray, we certainly are not,” replied the lieutenant, “for the chief and his men will take plenty of care that we do not overtake them. Here, come away, my lads; this place is pestiferous enough to lay every one down with fever.”