“There, that will do,” said the doctor sharply. “He is forbidden to speak, but he says through me, that he is very grateful to you all, and glad to find that his manly, straightforward, willing ways have won him so many friends. Nod your head to that, Ned.”
The man gave him a comically pitiful look, which seemed to Jack to mean, “Oh, I say, doctor, you’re pitching that last too strong,” but he remained quiet after giving every one an attempt at a nod.
“Now then,” said, the doctor, “I want this cabin cleared, for he is going to sleep for a few hours, to get cool and calm. Yes, you are,” said the doctor, in answer to a look full of protest. “And as soon as you wake I’ll have you carried to your own berth. There, behave yourself, and you’ll be all right in a few days.”
Half-an-hour later both patient and Jack were sleeping soundly, and that evening, thoroughly out of danger, Ned was resting again in his own berth, and Jack was dining with the rest in the cabin as if nothing whatever had occurred; the yacht many miles now from the island, which stood in the evening light like a blunted cone of perfect regularity resting upon the placid sea.
That night the regular watch was kept, and the sea was steadily swept in search of danger in the shape of canoes stealthily approaching to try and take the yacht by surprise. But no danger came near, and at last, after lying awake for some time, thinking of the account his father had given him of the attack made by the enemy, and the terrible anxiety about the little shooting party, Jack fell into a deep and dreamless sleep, to rise refreshed and find the doctor’s prognostic was correct, the patient having also had a quiet night, with the steward and Lenny to keep watch by his pillow, and there was no sign of fever to check a rapid recovery.
That day, with his mind at ease, Jack sat listening to a discussion held under the awning, as the yacht softly rose and fell upon the long pulsations of the calm sunlit sea, with the island lying ten or a dozen miles away.
“Of course, gentlemen,” said the captain, “it is for you to decide. We are your servants, and your wish is our law.”
“Well,” said Sir John, “I am ready to speak apologetically to you, Bradleigh, for you cannot feel the interest in the place that we as naturalists do.”
“Don’t apologise, Sir John. Speak out and say what you feel.”
“It is Doctor Instow’s feeling too. We think that now we have reached here—thanks to you—”