“Pretty tough ribs to break, too,” remarked the captain, with a look of profound distress.
“You are right,” returned the doctor; “remarkably tough, but not quite fitted to withstand such a powerful battering-ram as the mainmast of a six-hundred-ton barque.”
“Now, doctor, what’s to be done with him? You see, the poor young fellow is not only my friend, but he has saved my life, so I feel bound to look well after him; and this isn’t quite the sort o’ place to be ill in,” he added, looking round the somewhat bare apartment, whose walls were adorned with carbines and cutlasses.
“The wisest thing for him to do is to go into hospital, where he will receive the best of medical treatment and careful nursing.”
“Wouldn’t the nursing of an old lady that loves him like a mother, and a comfortable cottage, do as well?”
“No doubt it would,” said the doctor, with a smile, “if he also had proper medical attendance—”
“Just so. Well, that’s all settled, then,” interrupted the captain. “I’ll have him removed at once, and you’ll attend him, doctor—who better?—that is, if you can spare the time.”
The doctor was quite ready to spare the time, and the captain bustled off to tell his sister what was in store for her, and to order Rosebud to pack up and return to school without delay, so as to make room for the patient.
Great was his astonishment that his Rosebud burst into tears on receiving the news.
“My Bud, my darling, don’t cry,” he said, tenderly drawing the fair head to his rugged bosom. “I know it must be a great disappointment to have a week cut off your holidays, but I’ll go down to Folkestone with you, an’ take a lodging there, an you an’ I will have a jolly time of it together—till I get another ship—”