'Not much, sir; but I got a tremendous crack on the side, that pains terribly,' said Tom in a faint voice. 'Oh, how is poor Mr. Collier, sir?'
Hawkins shook his head sadly. 'Going fast my lad, going fast!' he said, as he turned away from Tom to kneel beside the young mate, who was feebly asking for him.
Tom saw the skipper's old white head bend close to Collier's face, and the two men speaking to each other.
Then a brief pause, and then Collier called out distinctly--
'Tom!'
'Yes, Collier,' replied Tom.
'Good-bye, Tom, my dear lad. I cannot see your face; good-bye.'
He made a faint motion of farewell with his hand, leant his head against old Sam's shoulder, and Tom covered his face, and sobbed under his breath. When he looked again, De Caen and the captain were gone, and the still figure of his friend was lying on the deck with his face covered with old Sam's blue-and-white silk handkerchief. Seven of the Leonie's crew of thirty had been killed, and as many more wounded; and as soon as possible the bodies of the former were brought on the quarter deck and made ready for burial, together with that of the first mate of the Lady Alicia.
For some little time, as the two brigs sailed along within a few cable lengths of each other, Hayes and the master of the Lady Alicia paced the quarter deck and talked of the fight. The old man was deeply distressed at the death of Collier, and Hayes, worried as he was with his own troubles, was touched at the spectacle of his grief.
'I am sorry, for your sake, that we ever sighted each other, Captain Hawkins,' he said; 'more than that I cannot say. I do not want to speak of my own losses; but I do want you to believe me--I am sorry, very sorry.'