So said, so done; and five minutes later they had got the man—the only occupant of the wreckage as it proved—safe aboard the boat, and were pulling back towards the brig, now barely discernible as a small, faint, indistinct dark blot against the blue-black, star-spangled sky, with her anchor light hoisted to the gaff-end as a guide to the returning rescue party.
The rescued man proved to be—as Leslie had already guessed from the fellow’s manner of speech—one of the foremast hands of the Golden Fleece. Like Leslie, he had been dragged under when the ship went down, but in his downward journey had encountered what proved to be a loose cork fender, to which he had clung desperately. The buoyancy of the fender was sufficient to immediately check his descent into the depths, and ultimately to take him back to the surface, where he found himself close alongside a mass of top-hamper, consisting of the ship’s fore-topmast with all attached, that had torn itself adrift from the wreck when she went down; and to this he had at once swam, and taken refuge upon it. He told a pathetic tale of the despair that had seized him, when, at dawn, he had found himself the sole survivor, as he supposed, of the catastrophe; and of the alternations of hope and despair that had been his throughout the day when the brig appeared in sight, drifted up to within three short miles of him, and there lay becalmed. The most distressing part of his experience, perhaps, consisted in the fact that, although an excellent swimmer, and quite capable of covering the distance between himself and the brig, he had found himself beset by a school of sharks, and therefore dared not forsake the refuge of the wreckage, and take to the water.
Upon the return of the boat to the brig, Leslie learned from the mate that Potter was still in his bunk, and that the dazed feeling resulting from the blow that he had sustained when thrown against the rail still seemed to be as acute as ever. Purchas, indeed, seemed to be growing rather anxious about him; and eagerly inquired of Leslie whether the latter happened to know anything about medicine; as he thought the time had arrived when something ought to be done to help the man back to his senses. Medicine, however, was a branch of science about which Leslie happened to know little or nothing; but he readily acceded to Purchas’s suggestion that he should have a look at the patient; and accordingly—although by this time a substantial meal was set out upon the brig’s cabin table, and the ex-lieutenant felt himself quite prepared to do ample justice to it—he forthwith descended to the cabin in which the skipper was lying; and, having knocked at the door without getting a reply, entered.
It was the same cabin in which he himself had enjoyed some hours of sleep after his long spell in the water, and Potter was lying stretched at full length upon the bunk that he had previously occupied. A small oil lamp, screwed to the bulkhead, afforded a fairly good light, by the aid of which Leslie saw that the man was lying with his eyes wide-open, and the eyeballs turned slightly upward, apparently staring at the deck above him. But the gaze was without intelligence; and the fellow appeared to be quite unconscious of his surroundings, for he took no notice whatever of Leslie’s entrance; nor did the eyes waver in the least when the latter spoke to him, Leslie laid his hand upon the forehead of his late antagonist, and found it cool to the touch, although clammy with perspiration. Then he laid his fingers upon the man’s wrist, and felt for his pulse, which appeared to be normal. Beyond the dazed condition which the man exhibited, there did not appear to be much the matter with him; and when at length Leslie left him and entered the main cabin—at the table of which he found Purchas and Miss Trevor seated, discussing the viands before them—he said as much; adding his opinion that the condition in which he found the skipper would probably end in sleep, and that the man would no doubt be all right in the morning. The conversation then turned to other matters, the mate remarking that he supposed the skipper’s indisposition meant an all-night job on deck for him (the mate); whereupon Leslie expressed his readiness to take charge of a watch until Potter should be able to resume duty—an offer which Purchas gladly accepted. It was arranged that, as the preceding night had been a very trying one for Leslie, he should take the middle watch; and accordingly, when the meal was over, as Miss Trevor, pleading fatigue, retired to the cabin that Potter had given up to her, Leslie sought the seclusion of his quarters in the longboat, which had been made ready for him, and was soon wrapped in sound and dreamless sleep.
He was called at midnight by Purchas, who reported to him with some uneasiness that there was no change in the skipper’s condition. The night was still beautifully fine, and the weather a flat calm; there was therefore nothing calling for Leslie’s immediate attention, and he readily assented to Purchas’s urgent solicitation that he should take another look at the patient, and say what he thought of his condition. Upon descending to the stuffy little cabin he found that, as the mate had reported, there was no marked change in Potter’s condition; he still lay, as before, without movement, his unseeing eyes upturned, and apparently quite unconscious of the presence of the two men who bent over him. The only difference noticeable to Leslie was that the man’s breathing seemed to be somewhat stertorous.
“Well, what d’ye think of him?” anxiously demanded Purchas, when at length Leslie raised himself from his examination.
“To be quite candid with you, Purchas,” answered Leslie, “I scarcely know what to think; but I am afraid the man’s condition is somewhat more serious than I thought it to be when I last visited him. I must confess that I do not like this long spell of wakefulness combined with unconsciousness of his surroundings. What is actually wrong I am sorry that I cannot say, but the symptoms appear to me to point to an injury of the brain. You have a medicine-chest on board, I suppose?”
“Oh yes,” answered Purchas. “It is in the skipper’s cabin.”
“Um!” remarked Leslie. “That is awkward. We cannot very well gain access to it just now without disturbing Miss Trevor; and I do not think that the case is urgent enough to demand that we should do that. But to-morrow morning, as soon as the young lady is out of her cabin, we will get that medicine-chest and overhaul the book of directions that I have no doubt we shall find in it; and perhaps we shall discover a description of symptoms somewhat similar to those exhibited by your skipper. And, if so, we will try the remedies recommended. Now I would advise you to turn in; and don’t worry about the skipper, for I have no doubt that we shall be able to pull him round all right. And perhaps this will be a lesson to him to keep his temper under somewhat better control.”
“Well, I’m sure I hope it will,” answered Purchas. “If it does that, I shan’t be sorry that this has happened; for I can tell you, Mr Leslie, that when the ‘old man’ gets his back up, as he did this afternoon, things grow pretty excitin’ aboard this hooker. Well, good night; and if anything happens atween this and eight bells, you might give me a call—not but what I expect you’re a far better sailor-man than what I am.”