Another moan and groan came fast one after the other, sometimes loud and sometimes piteous in the extreme, making me shiver again as I imagined all kinds of horrors.
At first Mr Frewen was very gentle in his examination; but as Walters kept on groaning, the doctor seemed to lose patience, and in feeling the patient’s ribs, testing his arms and joints, he was, I thought, unnecessarily rough and harsh.
Mr Frewen did not speak out, but kept on uttering little ejaculations; and at last he began to pass his hands over and around Walters’ skull, while I shuddered, and fully expected to hear the broken bone-edges grate together from a fracture.
But the doctor let my messmate’s head sink down again, quickly too, for Walters uttered a thrilling moan and let his face hang down away from the doctor, looking so ghastly and strange that I was more horrified than ever in the dim cabin-light.
I looked anxiously at the doctor, silently asking him what was the matter; but he only gave me a short nod of the head, and once more directed his attention to Walters, who lay breathing slowly in a catchy, spasmodic fashion, and I was almost about to question Mr Frewen, but he once more bent over the prisoner patient, listening to his breathing.
I saw him frown and then lay his hand upon Walters’ side, and then I started, for there came so piteous a groan that I was sure the ribs must have been crushed, and I felt angry with him for not being more sympathetic.
“He went against us and played the blackguard,” I thought to myself; “but he has been severely punished, and is down, so it isn’t right to jump upon him.”
I felt then that I disliked Mr Frewen, who must be a cold-hearted, brutal kind of man, and I was not surprised at Mr Denning the invalid showing so much dislike to him now.
“Yes, he’s very bad,” said Mr Frewen at last, “I shall have to get ready a mixture for him—something pretty strong too.”
I was looking anxiously in his eyes as he said this, and then we both looked at Walters, for the poor fellow winced and moaned again.