“My God! what’s that?”
I started forward. There was a general crowding rush, and a darkly tanned and bearded man came on board, carrying a brown leather case. Behind him surged those who bore the victim.
“It’s one of the lascars!”
“No—an Egyptian!”
“It was a porter—?”
“What is it—?”
“Someone been stabbed!”
“Where’s the doctor?”
“Stand away there, if you please!”
That was a ship’s officer; and the voice of authority served to quell the disturbance. Through a lane walled with craning heads they bore the insensible man. Ahmadeen was at my elbow.