The Alleghany lay in an enemy’s waters, and she was not to be caught napping. Nothing was allowed to approach without giving a good reason for it.
Then Jack’s father stood up in the boat. “I have a boy here with a broken thigh,” he said. “I want your surgeon to set it.”
“Who are you?” the officer asked.
“John Radway—a loyal man,” was the answer.
The name was as good as a passport, for the gun-boat people had heard of John Radway.
“Come alongside,” the officer called; and five minutes later a big sailor had Jack in his arms, carrying him up the gangway, and he was taken into the boat’s hospital and laid on another cot. It was an unusual thing on a naval vessel, and when the big bluff surgeon came the Captain was with him, and several more of the officers.
The examination gave Jack more pain than he had had before, but still he kept his teeth clinched, and refused even to moan.
“It is a bad fracture, and should have been attended to sooner,” the surgeon said at length. “There is nothing to be done for it now but to take off the leg.”
“Oh, I hope not!” Mr. Radway exclaimed. “Is there no other way?”
“He knows best, father,” Jack said; “he will do the best he can for me.”