"If I haven't got any, you won't feel me kicking!" the China Doll squeaked, lashing out with his feet.
Whilst two ran for a bamboo stretcher, the others captured his legs and tied them together with handkerchiefs and table napkins, so tightly that the victim cried for mercy. The stretcher was brought; they lashed him in it; lashed his arms in, to prevent him grabbing at the furniture and shouting and yelling, ran him aft along the deck to lower him down into the Gunner's store-room, below the armoured deck, where the doctors set up their operating table at "Action" station.
Fortunately for the China Doll the armoured hatch leading down to it was shut down and must not be opened.
On the way back to the gun-room with him, they had to pass the Surgeon's cabin, where Doctor Crayshaw Gordon was sitting, busy censoring letters. Dr. Crayshaw Gordon, R.N.V.R.—in private life he had a big consulting practice in London—hearing the noise and seeing the stretcher, thought there had been an accident, so jumped out of his cabin. "Hello!" he sung out, in his funny chuckling way of talking—fixing his gold eyeglasses on his nose, opening his mouth wide, and pulling nervously at his little pointed tawny beard. "Hello! what's the matter?"
"The China Doll, sir!" they shouted, dropping him on the deck. "Both legs blown off!—he can't kick you, sir, we've lashed him up too tightly."
"It's very painful," the China Doll bleated, all the pink gone out of his face.
Dr. Gordon went down on his knees and began to unlash him.
"Rather too much—too much," he said in his agitated manner, when he found how tightly the handkerchiefs had been fastened, and cried out with alarm when the China Doll's head suddenly dropped back.
"He's fainted, you silly fellows!"
They unbuckled the straps and untied the handkerchiefs in double-quick time.