"Accident, sir," said old Mac. "Just as we rounded the Point and you fainted, the old bark gave a heavy roll as we put her before the wind, and Walker, as he was standing with that black dog's knife in his hand, slipped and fell. The blade entered his body, and all he said after was, 'It was his knife after all. He threatened to do for me yesterday.'"
"Where's Will?" I asked, when he ended, for I was somehow anxious to save my brother's credit, and I shouldn't have liked to see him dismissed from the ship.
"He's on deck now, as busy as the devil in a gale of wind," growled Mackenzie. "'Tis he that saved the ship. Oh, he's a mighty man!—but I don't sail with him no more."
However, he altered his mind about that.
Now, it has taken me a long time to get to this point, and perhaps if I had been a better navigator in the waters of story-telling I might have done just what Will didn't do, and have missed all the trouble of beating to windward to get round to this part of my story. I might have put it all in a few words, perhaps, but then I like people to understand what I am about, and it seems to me necessary. If it isn't, I dare say someone will tell me one of these days. At any rate, here I have got into San Francisco, a city I don't like by the way, for it is a rascally place, managed by the professional politicians, who are the worst men in it; I had been badly wounded, and the Malay was in prison, and (not having money) he was likely to stay there.
I was in the hospital for three weeks, and I never had a more miserable or lonely time. If I had not been stronger in constitution than most men I think I should have died, so much was I worried by my love for Elsie, who was going away thinking me a scoundrel, who had tried to gain the love of my brother's wife. Of course she did not come near me, though I knew the Flemings were still in the city. I learnt so much from Will, who had the grace to come and see me, thanking me, too, for having saved the Vancouver.
"You must get well soon, Tom," said he, "for I need you very much just now."
I kept silence, and he looked at me inquiringly.
"Will," I said at length, "I shall never I sail with you again—I can't do it."
"Why not?" he cried, in a loud voice, which made the nurse come up and request him to speak in a little lower tone. "Why not? I can't see what difference it will make, anything that has occurred."