“Is the door broken by the powder?”
“No; it’s all right,” said Bob Hampton.
“Carry ’em both in,” said Jarette. “Fasten ’em up, and bring me the key. There, youngster,” he continued to me, “I’m sending the doctor with you to set you right.”
I nodded, and then had hard work to keep from shrieking out as two men lifted me and carried me through the companion into the shattered saloon, and then into the cabin on the left, laying me down pretty gently in the cot.
It seemed quite natural to me that I should be brought there, though it was unintentional on Jarette’s part, for the cabin I was in was that apportioned to Mr Frewen, who was now carried in and laid upon a rug which covered a portion of the floor.
“Cheer up, Mr Dale, sir,” said Dumlow, bluffly, for he was one of the men who had helped to carry in Mr Frewen. “They won’t starve yer. If they do I’ll bring you some o’ my wittles and drink.”
“Look here, Dumlow,” I said, “where are the officers and the passengers?”
“Shut up, sir, in their cabins, like precious crocks in a cupboard, that’s where they are; and now you’re just the same, only you’ve got a crack in you somewheres.”
The men all laughed and went out, and shut from my sight the shattered side, and confusion of chests and boxes lying in the saloon. Then I heard the door fastened, and I made an effort and looked over the side of the cot, groaning the while with the pain it gave me, down at poor Mr Frewen, who lay there quite insensible, and I said to myself bitterly—
“Very kind of them to send me a doctor; why, I shall have to doctor him.”