“There,” I thought, as I laid him back again, “that’s enough. You’ll soon die, and I don’t want to have the credit of killing you with kindness.”
He looked at me piteously, and his lips moved, but I could not grasp what he said.
“Wound hurt?” I asked.
He bowed his head.
“Sure to,” I said. “It’ll be ever so much worse yet.”
He bowed his head again.
“Look here,” I said gruffly, “why don’t you speak, and not wag your head like a mandarin in a tea-shop?”
He looked at me reproachfully, and his lips moved again.
“Is the ship still burning?” he said faintly, and evidently with a great effort.
“Yes, I s’pose so,” I replied. “It wasn’t out when I came away. Arn’t you glad?”