Pat was by no means a lazy boy. Recovering from his surprise, he set to work with all the vigour of a man of purpose, and joined the rest of the crew in their somewhat disagreeable duty.
They wrought with such goodwill that their contribution of trunks to the general supply was the largest put on board the steamer next day.
Calm and storm sometimes succeed each other rapidly on the North Sea. It was so on the present occasion. Before the nets could be cleared and let down for another take, the breeze had died away. The weather that was unsuited, however, for fishing, was very suitable for “ferrying” to the steamer; and when that all-important duty was done, the comparative calm that prevailed was just the thing for the work of the Sunbeam.
Well aware of this, Manx Bradley and other like-minded skippers, kept close to the mission ship, whose great blue flag was waving welcome to all. Boats were soon pulling towards her, their crews being influenced by a great variety of motives; and many men who, but for her presence, would have been gambling or drinking, or oppressed with having nothing to do, or whistling for a breeze, found an agreeable place of meeting on her deck.
On this occasion a considerable number of men who had received slight injuries from accidents came on board, so that Fred had to devote much of his time to the medical part of his work, while Fink, his mate, superintended the distribution of what may be styled worsted-works and literature.
“Hallo, Jim Freeman!” said Fred, looking round from the medicine shelves before which he stood searching for some drug; “you’re the very man I want to see. Want to tempt you away from Skipper Lockley, an’ ship with me in the Sunbeam.”
“I’m not worth much for anybody just now,” said Freeman, holding up his right hand, which was bound in a bloody handkerchief. “See, I’ve got what’ll make me useless for weeks to come, I fear.”
“Never fear, Jim,” said Fred, examining the injured member, which was severely bruised and lacerated. “How got ye that?”
“Carelessness, Fred. The old story—clapped my hand on the gunwale o’ the boat when we were alongside the carrier.”
“I’d change with ’ee, Jim, if I could,” growled Joe Stubley, one of the group of invalids who filled the cabin at the time.