“Right here.” Slim answered.
“Have some of the boys put these fellows in irons, and you’d better leave two or three to swab deck and mend the furniture.”
“Right-O. Want them aboard the ship or here?”
“On the island,” Wat answered after a moment’s hesitation. Then he heaved the unconscious body of the captain through the door to be dragged out by some of Slim’s company. Slim gave sharp orders.
“Round em up an’ rope em, then, forward march,” the young fellow ordered with a mixture of soldier and cowboy.
“We can’t march the captain, Slim.”
“Leave somebody to guard him while you get a stretcher,” Slim replied as if he was getting a great deal of satisfaction out of his job at that particular moment.
“Are you hurt, Miss Langwell?” Wat asked and his voice still sounded as if he was in command of a company.
“No, I’m not, thank you,” she said with a sob, which she promptly smothered. “Oh, oh, I’m so glad you came—I never saw anything so ghastly—”
“I hope you never do again,” he told her quietly. “But, I want the truth. You are really not hurt, the fighters didn’t touch you, or that bunk injure you? Don’t be afraid, let Nomie take care of you if you are not perfectly O.K.”