"Mistress Lucy!" I cried, trying to rise, but wincing at an exquisite pain in my leg.
"Don't move," she said. "The surgeon said you were to lie quite still."
"The surgeon!" I repeated, scarce believing I had heard aright.
"Yes, you are surprised," she said with a smile; "but that is not the strangest of the many strange things that have happened of late. One of the crew of this vessel was once a surgeon; he took his degrees in Edinburgh, he told me--"
"And that's true," said a harsh voice, and there entered the cabin one of the buccaneers--a big bottle-nosed fellow, with a face of purple hue. "And how are ye the noo, Mister?"
"Mighty shaky!" I said. "What is wrong with me?"
"A bit wound in the dexter femur," he said, "within a hair's breadth like o' your femoral artery and kingdom come.
"But ye'll do fine," he added, feeling my pulse. "Man, ye've good blood in your veins, and me having a good hand at the cutting, we'll verra soon have ye on your two feet again; and the lassie will no like be fashed at that, I'm thinkin'."
"I am to thank you then for cutting out the bullet," I said, and then, remembering how I had come by it, I cried: "Have they got that villain?"
"Meanin' Vetch?" says the man. "Hoots! Ye'll no catch him; he's a slithery man, yon. He was up and awa' before he could be stoppit, with a wheen o' yelling niggers after him. Aweel, I'm no that sorry mysel', for he wasna just what ye would call a gentleman."