“The right brand, but of what year?”
Then it dawned on the girl that both her elderly friend and she herself were accepting an extraordinary situation with remarkable nonchalance.
“How many of us remain on the ship?” she asked.
“Very few—on the effective list. The captain, an engineer whose name I do not know, Mr. Tollemache, and ourselves make up the total.”
“Where is Mr. Boyle?”
“Ah, poor Boyle! I fear he is done for. He is very badly wounded. I bandaged him as well as I could, but the call on deck was imperative.”
“Is he in the saloon? Should we not go to him?”
“I have only just left him. The hemorrhage has stopped, and I gave him some brandy. Believe me, we can do nothing more for him. I told Courtenay it was quite useless to place him on board the boat. You may be sure he was not forgotten.”
“I did not imagine that any one would be forgotten,” said Elsie, and, for some reason, the light in her eyes caused Christobal to go on rapidly:
“We have a whole crowd of injured men on board, Miss Maxwell. At present we can render them no aid. I thought it wisest to obey orders. The captain told me to bring you some wine and remain with you here. It will not be for long.”