“Got off, Barney? No,” said the lad, sadly. “His thigh-bone is broken, and his leg too, just above the ankle.”
“Lor’ ha’ mussy!” muttered the boatswain, “who’d ha’ thought o’ that!”
Syd was silent, for he was face to face with another surgical problem. He wanted splints, bandages, and brown paper, and he had none of these. What was to be done?
“Two of you take your knives,” he said, “and split up the lid of one of those cases. I want half a dozen strong thin laths of different widths.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” came back; and there was the rending sound of wood heard.
“Now for bandages, Barney. Ah, I see. But I want some linen first to go next the skin.”
“Oh, you can have all the men’s, sir, and welcome, I know.”
“Yes, poor fellows. But I want some long narrow ones. You must cut them from one of the sails.”
“Ay, ay, sir!”
All worked hard at these preparations, while Syd had the longest lid of any case they had brought to him, and this, after being covered with a piece of sail-cloth, was carefully slipped under the broken limb. Then there was a certain amount of trimming and measuring required over the splints before the young surgeon was satisfied, a sensation of shrinking keeping him from beginning what was another crucial task. Fortunately the fractures were simple, and he had no very great difficulty in bringing the broken bones into their proper positions, after which he bandaged and applied the splints, making all fast, a low moan from time to time being all that escaped from the sufferer.