“Yes, what’s the trouble?” came from Dr. Perkins.
“Trouble enough. We sprang a leak two days ago, out on the fishing banks, and have been at the pumps ever since. Now we’ve got the leak stopped, but my mate, Joe Higgins, was struck on the head by the boom and is so mortal bad that if we don’t get a doctor for him pretty quick I’m afraid he’ll die. Then, too, our provisions is run out.”
While the man was reciting this catalogue of mishaps the Sea Eagle was run alongside, and Dr. Perkins made her fast with a line the man flung to him.
“First let’s have a look at the injured man,” he said and, without further delay, Captain Zebedee Crooks, as he informed the travelers his name was, led them aft to a tiny cabin, stuffy, dark and reeking of fish. The boys followed Dr. Perkins into this wretched little den and Captain Zebedee lighted a sea lantern.
Its rays showed them a heavily built man of middle age lying on a locker. His head was bandaged, and although he breathed he showed no other signs of life. Dr. Perkins, with the skill of a professional man, made a hasty examination.
“This man is badly hurt,” he said at length. “I am afraid his skull is fractured, but of that I cannot be certain. He should be ashore in a hospital.”
“Aye! I know that,” rejoined Captain Zebedee, “but at the rate we are going now we won’t get ashore till to-morrow night, and by that time poor Joe may be dead.”
“I think it extremely likely,” replied Dr. Perkins, “but we must get him ashore at once.”
“What, in that sky schooner of yours?” Dr. Perkins nodded.
“Yes, we must get him on deck without further loss of time. Then we’ll rush him to a hospital.”