The skipper turned with a questioning look at the Count again, to receive a second grave nod, while this time the latter laid his hand upon his son’s shoulder, and a long eager glance passed between them.
“Well, I don’t know that I have much more to say,” said the skipper, “only that it was a bad job, being a fresh one we had got to tackle and meant to do. The Count here fitted me and my lads up with some weepuns, and we settled that as soon as it was dark we’d man two of the brig’s boats, and board first one and then the other of the two schooners. Well, we tried, but they were waiting for us, and I don’t know how we escaped, for they met us with such a fire that if we had kept on both boats must have been sunk, and we never got within touch of either of the enemy, but drifted down with the tide; and somehow just then I suppose there must have been a flood somewhere up the river, down came the water in a way that we couldn’t meet, and it was only by pretty good seamanship on the part of the Frenchmen more than ours, though we helped all we knew, that we were able to keep afloat; and since then we have been right down to the sea, and it’s been very hard to get enough to eat. But somehow we managed to keep alive, shooting what we could and catching a fish or two now and then as we came up the river again. For of course we were not going to give up without finishing our job; and it seems to me that we got here just at the right time, and found that things weren’t half so bad as we thought; eh, Count?”
“My friend,” replied the latter, “how can I ever repay you?”
“Oh, let’s talk about that, sir, when I have done something to keep the Maid of Salcombe upright and finished my other job and the brig’s afloat, which it seems to me we can manage at high water; but I never bargained for having our schooner to set right too through the lubberly management of that chap Joe Cross. There,” he cried angrily, “I can’t and won’t say another word till I have had something to eat, for we are all half starved.”
“Get on board the schooner, then, every one,” cried the doctor, “for I have got my work here.”
It was a fact, for now the fight was over the men began to stiffen, and several unexpectedly turned faint, it proving that though not a single man was seriously wounded, nearly every one of those who had followed Joe Cross in his gallant achievement of boarding the schooner, and in beating down the slaver’s crew when they forced their way out of the cabin, was more or less injured and had been doing his best to hide the knife stabs and contusions he had received.
It was during the next two or three days that the doctor proved that he was in his element, and that his knowledge of natural history was not confined to his ordinary scientific pursuits, for no surgeon could have been more skilful in his treatment of wounds, no physician more able in alleviating the fever which supervened.
It was a busy time for all, for not only was there the grounded schooner to guard from going over, but strict watch to keep for the return of enemies, and then, when the high tide served, all hands were at work, save the poor disappointed fellows whose injuries kept them to their bunks, in raising the brig to her old proud position. As she floated out, herself once more, and dropped anchor in the stream, the men literally yelled themselves hoarse, while on the following day at the Count’s request both vessels were dropping down with the tide, all on board eager to leave behind the river, which in spite of its many beauties was too full of painful recollections for its waters to be recalled without horror and disgust.