"You are needed to command this boat," said the doctor.
"I am not. My two mates can navigate. Get ready quickly, or she may die while you're talking."
Bill threw off his coat and rolled up his sleeve, showing an arm as big as an ordinary leg. The doctor rushed for his instruments, and while he was gone the owner asked brokenly of Bill how it happened.
"I do not know, sir," he answered, resolved not to describe the scene to her disadvantage. "I did not see her fall. I think nobody saw her fall."
"God grant that she lives!" said the old man, all the austerity gone from his face. "I can do nothing, willing as I am, for I am old and feeble; but you are young and strong. You see, there is much at stake beside by own grief and suffering. She is my daughter, and the real owner of this yacht, and every bond, and share, and mortgage that I control. Should she die, I would die myself—from poverty and want, while her relatives would obtain control. Still," and the old man stiffened up, "why should I speak of this? She is my daughter. I love her, for she is all I have left. Save her life, and while I live I am at your command."
"The hell you say!" said Bill. "I thought she was your ward."
"My daughter by my second wife," said the old gentleman, with dignity. "My first wife, with all her relations, is still alive and fighting me."
"I think," said Bill reflectively, "that I understand. Well," and here the doctor appeared with his appurtenances, "you don't love this little girl any more than I do, and I'll do my part."
"Lie down beside her quickly," ordered the doctor. Bill did so.
"Can you stand pain?" asked the doctor of Bill. "Or do you want an anæsthetic?"