Leslie quite agreed as to the desirability of this, and he also cheerfully undertook to check and assist Purchas in his navigation. The latter therefore went below to make the necessary transfer, and presently returned to the deck, carrying Potter’s sextant—a very handsome and valuable instrument—in his hand. This he handed to Leslie; and as the time was now drawing well on towards noon, the two men betook themselves to the forecastle—the sun being over the jib-boom end—and proceeded to take the meridian altitude of the luminary. This done, “eight bells” was struck, the watch called, and Leslie and the mate returned aft to work out their calculations. As a result, there proved to be a difference of two miles between them; nothing very serious, but enough to prove that Purchas’s doubts of himself were fully justified.
Upon being called by Leslie, the mate had looked in upon Potter for a moment on his way up on deck, but had failed to discover any improvement in his condition. He now suggested that they should both go below and subject their patient to a closer examination—which they did.
As Purchas had already remarked, there was no apparent improvement in Potter’s condition; on the contrary, when Leslie felt his pulse it seemed to him that it was weaker. This, however, might be accounted for by the fact that the man had taken no nourishment from the moment that he had sustained his injury, and owing to his absolute helplessness, it seemed impossible to administer any to him. A further study of the book of directions accompanying the medicine-chest, however, instructed them how to overcome this difficulty; and, summoning the steward, the mate forthwith gave him instructions to kill a chicken and have some broth prepared as quickly as possible. Meanwhile the blister was snipped and dressed, another dose of medicine administered, with considerable difficulty, and the man was once more left to himself, the self-constituted physicians having then done all, for the moment, that was possible.
“I wish something big would come along—a man-o’-war, for instance,” observed Leslie, as he and the mate left the cabin together; “we could then signal for medical assistance. A properly qualified doctor could soon say precisely what is wrong, and what would be the proper treatment to adopt. And if the case is really serious—as, to be frank with you, Purchas, I am beginning to fear it is—we might even trans-ship him, and thus give him the best chance possible for his life. You, of course, in such an event, would fully report all the circumstances of the case, and I should accompany the man to the other ship, to take the responsibility for whatever might happen. And Miss Trevor would go with me, since she, of course, now wishes to return home—failing an opportunity to continue her voyage to Australia or India—as soon as possible. What do you think of my plan?”
“Why,” answered Purchas, “it seems a good enough plan, so far as it goes. And if that there ship that you’re talkin’ about could spare me a navigator to help me take the brig to Valparaiso, why, I’d be perfectly satisfied. But there don’t seem to be much chance of our fallin’ in with nothin’; we haven’t spoke a single craft of any sort this side of Finisterre.”
“The greater the likelihood of our doing so soon,” remarked Leslie. “It may be quite worth while to keep an especially bright look-out, with a view to the intercepting of anything that may happen to heave in sight.”
On board small craft of the Mermaid type it is usual to have dinner served in the cabin at midday; and accordingly, the steward having already announced that the meal was on the table, and summoned Miss Trevor, Leslie and Purchas entered the cabin and proceeded to dine. It was Leslie’s afternoon watch below and his eight hours out that night, so he decided to lie down on the cabin lockers and get an hour or two’s sleep after he had smoked his pipe on deck. Before doing so, however, he went forward to the galley to inquire how the chicken broth was progressing, and finding that it was ready, he took it aft, and, on his way below, requested Purchas to accompany him, and assist him to administer it.
The two men entered the cabin together, and stepped to the side of the bunk. The figure of Potter still lay exactly as they had left him; but as Leslie stood for a moment gazing, he gradually became aware that a subtle change in the man’s appearance had taken place; through the swarthy tints of the sunburnt complexion an ashen grey hue seemed to have spread. He bent closer, and laid his hand upon the wrist, feeling for the pulse. There was no beat perceptible. He moistened the back of his hand and laid it close to the lips, waiting anxiously to feel the breath playing upon the moistened skin. He could detect nothing. Then he laid his hand upon the man’s chest, over his heart. The chest had ceased to heave; and there was not the faintest throb of the heart, so far as he could feel. Finally, he snatched a small mirror from the nail on which it was hanging, and laid it gently, face downward, on Potter’s mouth. He left it there for fully two minutes; and when at length he lifted it again its surface was still bright and undimmed as before. He carefully hung the mirror upon its nail again, and, turning to the mate, said—
“Mr Purchas, I regret to inform you that Captain Potter is dead!”
“Dead!” ejaculated Purchas. “No, no; he can’t be! there must be some mistake.”