Under the circumstances, he did the wisest thing he could, and turned into his bunk. There he lay, and wondered with all his might why men should go to sea.
On the fourth day, the gale moderating, they made sail again. During this operation an unfortunate A.B. fell from the main-yard, and broke his leg. The captain did his best, but he was, like the rest, quite unskilled, and the poor fellow lay in agony. Two days after this, when nearly a calm, the mate roused the skipper out of a nap with,—
[29]
]‘Here’s one of them big packet boats a-overhaulin’ us, sir.’
‘Well,’ replied the skipper sleepily, ‘what about it? Let her rip. I don’t want her. Wish we had her wind, that’s all.’
‘Poor Bill’s leg, sir,’ answered the other.
‘Why, of course; I forgot,’ said the skipper. ‘Stop the beggar, by all manner of means. She’ll have a doctor, an’ ice, an’ all sorts o’ fixin’s on board. Run the gridiron half-mast, Mr Stokes. They packets don’t care much about losin’ time for sich a trifle as a broken leg, but thet oughter ease her down.’
And so it did. No sooner was the American flag seen flying half-way up the signal halliards than the steamer kept away, and came thundering down upon the barque.
‘What’s the matter?’ shouted someone, as she slowed nearly alongside.
‘A doctor!’ roared the mate. ‘Man very bad with a broken leg!’
‘Send him on board, and look smart,’ was the reply.