"We've got black-water fever on board now, Brasse," he said in a weary voice. "Hobson's dead already, and the mate's down with it, too. I want you to send one of your men up to see after him. I can't spare a single deck-hand. And I must have some one—or Sallie will be wanting to nurse him herself."
He set his ear to the mouthpiece and, after he had waited a while, spoke into it again.
"That's good," he remarked. "Send him up to the mate's room right away. He'll have to stay there, in quarantine. And whatever he does know about doctoring will maybe help him to save his own life!"
CHAPTER VIII
UNMASKED
Sallie sat up in her disordered cot with a start of alarm when Ambrizette came in to wake her, as she had directed before she lay down. She had scarcely slept at all amid dreadful dreams, and was still very weary, both body and mind. She had not yet had time to forget the horrors of over-night.
But she had no desire to dwell on them, and—there was the day's work awaiting her. Twenty minutes later she was on her way to the bridge, to relieve Da Costa.
That was not the first occasion, by many, on which she had had to fill a man's place. For Captain Dove had trained her to all the responsibilities of the sea. Da Costa touched his cap obsequiously to her and gave her the course, which she repeated after him, with mechanical precision.
As he turned to go, yawning wearily, "If you'll send and have me woke out again whenever you feel like it, Miss Sallie," he said with an ingratiating flourish, "I'll—"