“This will probably delay the recovery for weeks,” the latter cried angrily, as he helped to carry his patient back to his bunk.
When Drake looked round, he noticed that the flag was once more flying from the top of the mast and he sighed wearily. He blamed himself for his brother’s death, and a feeling of great despondency held him in its clutches. All the sweetness seemed to have vanished from life, and yet he could not have acted differently. Had God decreed his brother’s death as a judgment upon him for attempting to right the wrong-doing by force? And he sought the solitude of his cabin to wrestle with his grief. It was not till the afternoon that he again appeared and then his face was calm and resigned.
The Count de Chambord paid them another visit and was received by Captain Armstrong, but asked to see Gaunt.
“He is injured and must not be disturbed,” the captain answered.
“It was reported to me that a shell had struck your ship. I presume that you will now go about your business?”
“Not until we are compelled to,” was the brusque reply.
“It was also reported to me that a burial took place this morning from the ship. From the ceremony which was observed, I wondered if it were Gaunt himself who had been killed.”
“Mr. Gaunt is below and in no danger. Can I do anything for you? If not——”
The captain paused significantly and the Count took his departure without asking any more questions. During the rest of the day they cruised around the mouth of the river, but nothing occurred to break the monotony. The death of Captain Drake seemed to have subdued the spirits of all on board, for he had made himself very popular among the men.
After dinner Gaunt insisted on holding a conference with Captain Armstrong and Drake, in spite of the protests of the doctor; and their future policy was discussed at great length. They were in utter ignorance of what was happening in Europe, so that they could do nothing but wait events.