Cheyne spoke with the easy confidence of one who knew he would be obeyed.
"Groom," he continued, "take a dog-cart, and don't spare the horse. Bring back a doctor with you. Mind, not the best, but the nearest! We shall have other cases presently." And he pointed towards the yacht.
"Not a soul will come ashore alive out of her," said one of the fishermen.
"How long will it take you to go and come?" asked Cheyne of the groom.
"An hour," said the groom.
"Don't be any longer. By that time there will be work for him."
The groom hesitated a moment.
Cheyne nodded a dismissal to him, turned his back upon him, threw down his hat, and began undressing.
The men drew closer, until they made a ring round him.
He spoke in his former tone of easy confidence.