“Humph! Poor wretch,” muttered the doctor, and he gave some instructions to his assistant before turning once more to Pete:
“Look here, you had better stay with your mate when you are not on deck. If he gets worse you can fetch me.”
“Where shall I find you, zir?” asked Pete.
“Ask one of the men.”
Pete began to dress as soon as he was alone, and found that it was no easy task on account of a strange feeling of giddiness; but he succeeded at last, and stepped to Nic’s hammock and laid a cool hand upon the poor fellow’s burning brow. Then he went on deck, glad to sit down right forward in the shade cast by one of the sails and watch the blue water whenever the vessel heeled over.
The exertion, the fresh air, and the rocking motion of the ship produced a feeling of drowsiness, and Pete was dropping off to sleep when he started into wakefulness again, for half-a-dozen men came up a hatchway close at hand, with the irons they wore clinking, to sit down upon the deck pretty near the convalescent.
Pete stared as he recognised Humpy Dee and five other partners in the raid.
“There, what did I tell you?” said the first-named, speaking to his companions, but glaring savagely at Pete the while. “There he is. I allus knowed it. He aren’t in irons. It was his doing. Give warning, he did, and they brought the sailor Jacks up. It was a regular trap.”
“What do you mean?” said Pete wonderingly.
“What I say. I always knew you’d turn traitor and tell on us.”