The Malay had dealt his blow wildly, his intention being revenge, for Hughes’s grip held him by the throat, and the savage pirate was choking as he struck. The creese had entered Isabel’s arm above the elbow, making a nasty jagged wound.
They placed her on the crimson cushions in the cabin, Masters, the steward, bathing her head with water, while the wounded arm hung down, the soldier kneeling near her, and doing his best to bandage it. His was a curious figure as he knelt by her side, for both face and hands were nearly black with the powder and smoke, his dress torn in many places, and what had been a shirt showing very many tokens of the bulky pirate’s terrible grip. All this was forgotten in the anxiety of the moment, and there the two were in the almost deserted cabin eagerly waiting for returning consciousness. Isabel’s face was pale and bloodless, and her teeth firmly clenched. There was no doctor on board the brig.
“Masters, I wish you would step on deck,” said Hughes, “and send Wyzinski here.”
“Ay, ay, sir,” replied the man, rising, and handing the basin and sponge to Hughes.
“And, Masters, just ask Captain Weber for some arnica.”
The man disappeared up the hatchway. On deck all was bustle, the crew being busily engaged removing the traces of the late bloody affair. He found the missionary forward, but unable to leave a wounded seaman, so Masters knelt by his side and joined in the fervent but simple prayer over the dying man. An oil lamp gave out a feeble light in the fore-cabin, showing in one corner a large white sail. The heavy folds covered something, which bulging out here, falling in there, took the shape of the human form. The dead lay there, while, breathing heavily, his hand plucking at the coverlet, the dying seaman passed slowly away.
His shirt was open, showing the jagged, ragged hole made by the Malay creese in the broad, hairy breast.
The man spoke, but his tones were low. Masters leaned over him, and caught the faint eager tones.
“Tell the skipper to heave up the anchor, and get into blue water. I know these fellows, and they’ll come back.”
“Ay, ay, Sedley,” answered the steward, “I’ll tell him, sure enough.”