“Secure him with ropes, then,” returned the captain;—“where is Mr Berrington?” he added, looking round hurriedly.
“For’ard, sir, lookin’ after the wounded,” answered a sailor.
While the pirate-chief was led below, the captain walked quickly to the place where Edgar was busy.
“Can you spare a minute?” he asked.
“Not easily,” said Edgar, who had just finished the dressing with which we left him engaged; “there are several here who require prompt attention; but of course if the case is urgent—”
“It is urgent: come and see.”
Without a word our amateur surgeon rose and walked after the captain, who led him to the companion-hatch, leaning against which he found the Singapore man, with his head split across and apparently cut down nearly from ear to ear. From this awful wound two small spouts of blood, about the thickness of a coarse thread, rose a foot and a half into the air. We use no exaggeration, reader, in describing this. We almost quote verbatim the words of a most trustworthy eye-witness from whose lips we received the account.
The man looked anxiously at Edgar, who turned at once to the captain and said in an undertone, but hurriedly, “I can be of no use here. It is quite impossible that he can live. To attempt anything would really be taking up time that is of vast importance to more hopeful cases.”
“Sir, do try,” faltered the poor man in English.
“Ha! You speak English?” said Edgar, turning quickly towards him; “forgive me, my poor fellow, I did not know that you understood—”