"Then I'm not kicking at what I found," cried one young sailor lad, cheerily.
"Nor I," added another. "It was worth something, sir, to take part in a fight like that. Ouch! O-o-o-h!"
Dave paused to bend over the sufferer, resting a hand on his nearer shoulder.
"I beg pardon, sir," said the lad. "I didn't mean to make such a fuss. You'll think me a regular baby, sir."
"No one is to be blamed for yelling, with a pair of shell fragment wounds like yours," broke in the surgeon, bending over and examining. "My boy, you have regular man's-size wounds."
"Not going to croak me, are you, sir?" asked the young sailor, looking up into Medico's eyes.
"Oh, no; not this trip, my lad."
"Then I don't care," returned the young seaman. "Wouldn't care much, anyway, but there's a mother at home who would! Ouch! There I go again. My mother'd be ashamed of me."
"No, she wouldn't," smiled the surgeon. "Look here, what I took out of that hole in your leg."
He held up a jagged fragment of shell. It was somewhat oval-shaped, about an inch and a half in length and half as wide.