Syd’s fingers were soon busily employed searching for and finding the ruptured artery, and in spite of the horrible nature of the gash, he uttered a sigh of satisfaction as he discovered it and pressed it between his finger and thumb.
“Now one of you—no, you, Strake,” he cried, “off with my handkerchief, and tear it across so as to get me a couple of strips, which roll up fine as twine.”
This was done, but the pieces were rejected as too thick.
Two more were prepared and laid ready.
“Now,” he said, “a little more water here, over my hands.”
He was obeyed, and with deft fingers, taught by Doctor Liss, he rapidly tied the artery, and the main flow of blood was stopped amid a low murmur of satisfaction, the patient, who had revived, lying perfectly motionless with his eyes fixed upon his surgeon.
And now for a few moments the lad paused, with his brow wrinkled up, thinking.
He wanted silk and a large needle, and the latter was unattainable.
“Has any one a pin or two?” he said.
There was an eager search, and the result was that five were found, of which the boatswain produced three; and then stared as he saw his young officer unbutton and strip off his white linen shirt, to kneel there half-naked beneath the rough awning the men held over them, and rapidly slit and tear it up into bandages.