First, however, he gave heed to the gallant fellows who had been disabled; and Alec and I walked by his side as he moved from one to another of those who as yet had not been carried into the dismantled cockpit.
There were but fourteen men and boys on board who had not been injured more or less severely, and among them no more than two guns’ crews could have been made up.
While we were amidships, Alec and I took advantage of the opportunity to run into the ward-room, where Dr. Parsons, now working alone because all his assistants had been summoned on deck to aid in working the brig, was performing his cruel-looking offices of mercy.
It was for the purpose of learning if old Silas yet lived that we ventured into the horrible place, strewn here and there with dismembered limbs or fragments of human flesh, and to our great joy the gunner had so far recovered from his faintness as to be quarrelling with the surgeon because that officer refused to allow him to go on deck.
“A bit knocked up, lads; but with blood enough left in my veins to give the Britishers another chance at drawin’ it. This ’ere sawbones is takin’ too much on himself, when he sets up that Silas Boyd shan’t do his duty.”
“There is nothing left for you to do, Master Boyd,” Alec said, as he laid his hand upon the old man’s head. “The Lawrence is out of the fight just now, and even though she wasn’t, I question if you could find a serviceable gun aboard.”
“You’re not tellin’ me that the brig has struck her colors?” and the old man would have sprung up but that we two lads held him down by main strength.
“Not a bit of it. The blue flag is still flying; but the brig appears to be little better than a wreck, and both squadrons have drawn off from us.”
“And the fight? What kind of a turn is that takin’?”
“We appear to be holding our own.”