When the place was clear, I made an examination, and found a wound under the shoulder-blade. It was not dangerous, but might well have been so. I sent for my bag and dressed it, the boatswain looking on. All the time I made no comment, but when I had finished I turned and met the boatswain's eyes.
"That's a knife wound," I said, shortly.
"Is it, sir?" he replied, and stared down at Adams. "How did it come about, Adams?" he inquired authoritatively.
"I was larking along with Gray and ran up agen him," said the man, in a sullen voice. "I didn't see what he 'ad in his 'and."
"More fool you!" said the boatswain angrily. "D'ye think I can go short of men for a lot of horse-play? All right, doctor? Nothing serious?"
"No," said I, deliberating. "If the knife was clean there's not much harm done except that you go short of a man, as you say, for some days."
The boatswain swore as politely as an oath can be managed.
"I'll come in again later," I said. "Meanwhile keep him in bed."
But on my next visit it was manifest that the wound was not such a simple affair, for the man's temperature had risen and he was wandering. He gave tongue to a profusion of oaths, which seemed to be directed, in the main, against Gray, but also included the boatswain, raised himself on his arm, and shook his fist in my face, muttering "my share," and "not a brown less," and something about "blowing the gaff."
It was with difficulty that I completed my ministrations; but I did so, and gave the boatswain a dose to be given to the wounded man at once and another four hours later. It was entirely an involuntary omission on my part that I said nothing of returning.