“Oh, sir! If I’m to be here I must talk.”
“You must not, Sam. There, I came to see how you were.”
“Quite well, thank ye kindly, sir.”
“You are not. You have a bad wound.”
“But I aren’t, Master Roy. It’s on’y a bit cut; and I want to have a stick and come up on the tower in case we have to work that gun.”
“If you want to help to work that gun again, Sam, you will have to lie still and let your wound heal.”
“Master Roy!—I mean oh, cap’n—it’s worse than the wound to hear that.”
“We can’t help it. Tell me, are you in much pain?”
“Oh, it hurts a bit, sir; but if I was busy I should forget that, and—”
Crash!—Boom!