"I should think they might be," added the surgeon. "You have had a hard rap on the head."
"So I should judge, for my brain is rather muddled."
"Does your head pain you?" asked the medical gentleman, placing his hand on the injured part.
"It does not exactly pain me, but it feels rather sore. I think I will get up, and see how that affects me."
Somers got up, and immediately came to the conclusion that he was not very badly damaged; and the surgeon was happy to corroborate his opinion. With the exception of a soreness over the left temple, he felt pretty well. The blow from the iron fist of the burly seaman had stunned him; and the kicks received from the big boots of the assailant had produced sundry black and blue places on his body, which a man not accustomed to hard knocks might have looked upon with suspicion, but to which Somers paid no attention.
The surgeon had carefully examined him before his consciousness returned, and was fully satisfied that he had not been seriously injured. Somers walked across the room two or three times, and bathed his head with cold water, which in a great measure restored the consistency of his ideas. He felt a little sore, but he soon became as chipper and as cheerful as an early robin. His first thought was, that he had escaped being murdered, and he was devoutly thankful to God for the mercy which had again spared his life.
The doctor, after giving him some directions in regard to his head, and the black and blue spots on his body, left the room. He was a naval surgeon, a guest in the hotel, and promised to see his patient again in the morning.
"How do you feel, Somers?" asked Lieutenant Pillgrim, who sat on the bed, gazing with interest, not unmixed with anxiety, at his companion.
"I feel pretty well, considering the hard rap I got on the head."
"You have a hard head, Somers."