“I shall take her to my quarters,” he informed Lieutenant Fernald. “See that the surgeon is sent there at once. Runkle, you are all right?”
“Never more so, sir,” replied the boatswain’s mate.
“Go below and put on dry clothing.”
Dave staggered along with his precious burden into his own quarters, which he never used on a patrolling cruise. He laid Belle tenderly on his bunk and called up the bridge.
“Mr. Fernald, are the passengers from the ‘Griswold’ being taken aboard?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Any women among them?”
“Several, sir.”
“Some that do not require attention themselves and can lend a hand here?”
“Yes, sir.”