“Yes, only lightly. It will be all the better for bleeding a bit. Now then! We must retreat as fast as we can. Can you get up, Ned?”
“Can I get up, sir! I should just think I can! I’m not going to make a regular how-de-do because I’ve got a prick from a bit of wood.”
“Are the enemy coming on, men?” said the doctor sharply.
“Can’t see any more of ’em, sir,” sail one of the sailors. “I think that volley scared ’em a bit.”
“Here, take my arm, Ned. Jack, you come next. Come on, my lads.”
“All right, sir, we will,” cried Lenny.
“Who has Ned’s gun?” said Jack. “That must not be left behind.”
“I’ve got it, sir; he’s loaded too,” said one of the sailors.
“Forward then,” cried the doctor.
“I can get on without your arm, sir,” grumbled Ned now sturdily. “No, I can’t. Things turn round a bit somehow. Thank you, sir. I shall be better directly.”