“Dying, sir? why he has been dying fast all day.”
“Then is not this rather unseemly before ladies?” said Captain Horton.
“Unseemly? Before ladies?” said the doctor in a puzzled way. “Why, can’t you see for yourselves? Ha, ha, ha!” he said, laughing softly. “Don’t you see the remedies have beaten the poison. There’s a delightful sleep he has dropped into.”
“Sleep?” exclaimed Miss Linton.
“To be sure, my dear. Look what a lovely perspiration is coming out on his forehead. There, come away, and let him sleep. He’ll be nearly well by to-morrow morning.”
Bob Roberts leaped up from the deck, as if sent by a sling, made a dash at Ensign Long, swung him round, indulged in a kind of war dance indicative of triumph; then looked extremely ashamed of himself, and dashed off into the gun-room to spread the news that the doctor had saved Gray’s life.
“That’s not a bad sort of boy,” said the doctor, looking after Bob; and then, as Ensign Long raised his chin in the air, and looked very dignified, “tell you what Sandars, if I were you I’d get Captain Horton to make a swop. Let’s give him Tom Long in exchange for the middy. What do you say?”
Tom Long marched off, looking very much disgusted; and Sergeant Lund having been summoned to bring a file to watch by the sick man, the much relieved party went down to dinner.