“I don’t want to do it if I can help it, but I don’t want to run the risk of blood poisoning. If only we had a doctor! It would go to my heart to deprive the boy of an arm, but what am I to do?”
Never had the captain seemed so human, so sympathetic to the young wireless man. He looked genuinely distressed.
“They ought to compel every ship to carry a doctor,” he said. “Accidents are always happening, and—strike my topsails! What’s the matter with the boy?”
For Jack’s eyes had suddenly begun to dance. He gave a sudden caper and snapped his fingers.
“I’ve got it, sir! I’ve got it!” he cried.
“What, in the name of Neptune? St. Vitus’s dance?”
“No, sir. A doctor. I can get you a doctor, sir.”
“Have you suddenly gone mad?” demanded the captain. “We’re a thousand miles out at sea.”
“I can get one by wireless, sir.”
“What do you mean?”