The surgeon and his assistant now trundled down over the side, with their tools under their arms, and went on board the prizes to attend to the poor fellows who were wounded, Mr Flinn returning with them to arrange the prize crews, and to anchor the prizes, the skipper having come to the determination to remain in smooth water until the wounded had all been attended to and placed comfortably in their own hammocks on board the frigate.
In the mean time I trundled down into the midshipmen’s berth, bathed my wound—a scalp-wound about six inches long—in cold water, clapped on a quarter of a yard of diachylon plaster, a sheet of which I always took the precaution to keep in my own chest, snatched a mouthful or so of biscuit and cold meat, and then returned to the deck to see if I could be of use.
“Oh! I’ve been looking for you, sir,” said the captain’s steward, as I put my head above the coamings. “The captain wishes to see you in his cabin at once, if you please, sir.”
“Is he there now, Polson? All right, then, I’ll go down to him forthwith,” and away I went.
“Come in!” said the deep, musical voice of the skipper, in answer to my knock. I entered.
“Oh! It’s you, Ralph. Come in and sit down. I see you have been doing a little patching up on your own account. Is it very hard?”
“Thank you, no; a mere breaking of the skin,” I replied. “I shall be as good as new in a day or two, I hope.”
“That’s well. Still you had better let Mr Oxley look at it when he is at leisure. Very trifling wounds turn out badly sometimes in this hot climate. And now—I want to speak to you about that poor lad Fisher. I am told he was in the gig with you.”
“In the gig with me!” I echoed taken thoroughly by surprise. “I assure you, Captain Annesley, I was quite unaware of it, then. Indeed, I was not aware that he had left the ship until Mr Flinn spoke of him as being wounded. I haven’t even seen him throughout the affair.”
“I am glad to hear that,” said the skipper, his brow clearing. “To tell you the whole truth, Ralph, I have been feeling very angry with you; for when I heard that the poor boy had gone in your boat, I quite thought it must have been with your connivance. And I need scarcely point out to you that I could not approve of such a child as that being allowed to take part in an expedition of so dangerous a character, where he would only be in the way, and could be of no possible assistance. However, since you say that you know nothing about it, I suppose he must have slipped down into the boat surreptitiously and stowed himself away. Now, as there is nothing particular for you to do, you may as well—”