Brace watched his countenance anxiously while he was doing so, feeling, as he did, ready to cling to the first hand extended to him in his terrible difficulty, for his brother lay back now half-insensible and as if overcome by a terrible feeling of drowsiness. The young man stood silently waiting for the captain to speak.
“Now then, squire,” said the captain grimly, after his long examination, “do you want to hear what I think of this?”
“Yes, yes, of course I do, captain,” cried Brace excitedly.
“Then look here, squire, I’m not a doctor nor a surgeon; but a skipper who goes on long voyages all over the world gets to know something about physic as well as about broken bones and out-o’-joints, cuts, and scratches.”
“Yes, of course, I know that,” said Brace, who was becoming very anxious about his brother’s condition, and could not understand how the captain could remain so calm and unmoved.
“Well, then, this is just the same as a cut, only it happens to be a deep one that goes right through the arm.”
“Yes, yes, I know that,” said Brace impatiently. “But—”
“Wait a bit, squire. You young chaps are always in such a hurry. Now, I was going to say that your brother here, being a fine healthy man who don’t take liberties with his constitution, all there’d be to do would be to tie up the cut and make him a sling for his arm, keep the wound clean, and wait patiently till it had grown together again.”
“But don’t you see it’s a wound from an arrow? Talk low, or he will hear you.”
“Not he,” said the captain; “he don’t understand a word we’re saying—poor chap! He’s quite unconscious. I know what you mean about the poison, and I’ve seen a man once who had a poisoned arrow shot into him.”