"I'm afraid so," replied his father, manfully suppressing a groan. "My leg is broken."
By dint of considerable exertion the sufferer was taken back to the saloon, and the ship's surgeon, who had been routed out of his cabin, pronounced the injury to be a double fracture.
Ellerton, his whole attention fixed upon keeping the vessel on her course, had neither observed nor heard the noise of the accident, and great was his concern when Andy mounted the bridge and informed him of the catastrophe.
"I think I can leave the command," he remarked. "No doubt that yellow-skinned johnny has recovered his nerve by now."
Five minutes later Captain Antonio Perez gained the bridge. He had lost his suave, self-confident manner, and his general appearance showed a change for the better in his moral and physical condition. Yet, without a word of thanks to the English lad who had saved the situation, he called up two of the seamen, and placed them at the wheel.
"He might have been a bit civil over the business," remarked Andy.
"Poor brute! I dare say he feels his position pretty acutely. I only hope he won't break down in a hurry," replied Ellerton.
For the next two days the San Martin fled before the storm, the trysail keeping her steady and checking any tendency to broach-to. The wind had increased to almost its former violence on the evening of the first day, but the vessel was then close on the outer edge of the storm-path.
Mr. McKay, who was suffering considerably, bore his injuries gamely, while Terence, who had recovered from his bout of sea-sickness, began to take a new interest in life. Quexo, however, still lay on the floor of the stateroom, refusing to eat or drink, and groaning dismally at intervals.
"I reckon he's sorry he followed the Americanos across the wide river that tastes of salt," said Terence, quoting the Nicaraguan way of speaking of the sea. "Even I can feel sorry for him."