“I will help move him,” volunteered Bill.
“I supposed you were afraid of him,” added the second master. “He has about come to himself.”
Juan spoke then, and complained of his head. Bark and Bill lifted him up, and carried him to the cuddy, where they placed him on the bed of old garments upon which they had slept themselves during the afternoon. Bark had some little reputation among his companions as a surgeon, probably because he always carried a sheet of court-plaster in his pocket, and sometimes had occasion to attend to the wounds of his friends. Perhaps he had also a taste for this sort of thing; for he was generally called upon in all cases of broken heads, before the chief steward, who was the amateur surgeon of the Tritonia, was summoned. At any rate, Bark, either from genuine kindness, or the love of amateur surgical dressing, was not content to let the wounded Spaniard rest till he had done something more for him. He washed the injury in fresh water, closed the ugly cut with a piece of court-plaster, and then bound up the head of the patient with his own handkerchief.
The wounded man tried to talk to him; but he could not understand a word he said. If his father spoke English, it was certain that the son did not. When he had done all this, Bark relieved Raimundo at the helm, and the latter went forward to talk with the patient, who was so quiet that Bark had not thought of fastening the door of the cuddy.
“I am well now,” said Juan, “and I want to go out.”
“You must not go out of this place; if you do, we shall hit you over the head again,” replied the second master sternly.
“Where is my father?” asked the patient.
“He is tied hand and foot; and we shall tie you in the same way if you don’t keep still and obey orders,” added Raimundo. “Lie still where you are, and no harm shall be done to you.”
Raimundo, taking the lantern with him, left the cuddy, and fastened it behind him with the padlock he found in the staple. Putting the key in his pocket, he made an examination into the condition of Filipe, with the aid of the lantern. He found him still securely bound, and, better than that, as quiet as a lamb.
“How is my son?” asked he.