The lad made his way back over the deck, strolling slowly along, enjoying the night and thinking over the events of the evening. As he reached the after deck-house he halted, leaning against it looking forward and watching the gentle rising and falling of the upper works forward.
"It is almost fascinating enough to make one want to spend his life on board a ship," mused the Iron Boy. "Well, I must turn in. I——"
He did not finish what he was about to say. A crushing blow was dealt him on the back of the head, coming from the deep shadows on the starboard side of the after deck-house.
Steve staggered forward, then fell face downward on the steel deck of the "Richmond."
Sailors found him there, half an hour later, unconscious. No one knew what had happened. The captain was notified at once and he, after an examination of the boy, decided that Steve had fallen against a steel hatch and had given his head a severe bump. They worked over the lad for nearly an hour before getting him back to consciousness. He had been put to bed, and Bob was detailed to sit by and watch his companion, which he did with solemn face. Steve fell into a deep sleep from which he did not fully awaken until morning.
He was lame and sore from head to feet. Bob was asleep on the edge of the berth and the ship was rolling heavily. Without waking his companion, Rush got up after much effort, dressed himself, and, supporting himself by keeping his hands on the woodwork, made his way outside. Day was just breaking.
Steve leaned against the deck-house in the same position that he had been occupying on the previous night when he was struck.
The captain, at that juncture, came along on his way to breakfast.
"Hello, Rush," he greeted, halting. "How do you feel?"
"All knocked out."