"There are no details," he continued. "In fact, I know far more about the disaster and how it occurred than is stated in the Press. The number of casualties is given but no names."
Assisting Mrs. Aubyn into the waiting gig, Captain O'Rourke gave orders to the coxswain to make for Shotley Pier. Then, having acted the part of glorified ferryman, and handed the old lady into the charge of a petty-officer with instructions to escort her to the Sick-Quarters, Captain O'Rourke returned to his ship.
The short winter's afternoon had now given place to night. Well it was that Terence's mother had a stalwart seaman to show her the way, for, owing to possible air-raids, both sides of Harwich Harbour were shrouded in darkness.
"Officers' wing, ma'am," announced the petty-officer. "If you'll write particulars in the visitors' book you'll soon be attended to by that chap—he's one of the assistant ward-masters."
After a few moments' delay Mrs. Aubyn was ushered into a fairly large room in which were half a dozen occupied beds. Eagerly she scanned the faces of the patients. None of the five who on hearing the visitor turned in her direction bore the slightest resemblance to her son. The sixth bed—ominous sign—had a screen drawn round it.
A nursing sister walked silently up to the assistant ward-master and asked a question in an undertone, then turning to the visitor:—
"Mrs. Aubyn, I believe. You have come to see your son?"
"I have; is he dangerously hurt?" she asked.
The nurse inclined her head.
"I am afraid so," she replied gently. "The surgeons are holding another consultation tomorrow. It may mean amputation of the right leg, but I think he'll get over it."