"Don't you know me, doctor?" said I, almost crying with laughter; "don't you know Wentworth?"
"Eh! What?" returned he, gradually uncoiling himself, till his little thick legs were stretched to their full length (shortness, I should say), and his sharp twinkling eyes stared full up in my face. "So it is! Give me your hand, my boy—who'd have thought it? How did you escape? Devil takes care of his own, eh?"
"So it seems, doctor," said I, laughing; "that accounts satisfactorily for your appearance here."
"Ha, ha, ha! have me there—eh, Wentworth? Help me to take the stopper out of the bottle—that's a good fellow."
He raised himself on his elbow, turned his face to the sky, and held deep communion with his pocket-companion; but, happening to cast his eyes upon mine, he started nimbly to his feet, and, edging close to my side, muttered, with great trepidation—
"Who's your friend, eh? Not a wrecker, I hope? Sad fellows those—cut-throats, and all that."
Having set the little gentleman's fears at rest on that score, we returned to the cottage, which was now crowded with survivors from the wreck, some dreadfully bruised, others only exhausted with cold and fatigue. We heard that several others had taken shelter in another cottage, about half-a-mile distant, and that a messenger had been despatched to a neighbouring town for medical assistance. It was found, on comparing notes, that only about fifty people were saved out of the crew of one hundred and twenty. Sad and silent were the greetings of the survivors; for the loud roaring of the wind, the rattling of the door and casements, and the low, rumbling sound of the distant breakers, recalled but too forcibly the horrors of the scenes they had just witnessed, and the sad fate of their unfortunate shipmates. As soon as the little doctor was revived by the heat, and by a dose of the fisherman's restorative, he hastened to make himself useful in a professional way; and his little rosy cheeks and merry chuckling laugh had the effect of soon dispelling the gloom which hung over the party. In a short time, we heard, in the intervals of the gale, the faint, distant sound of a horse's hoofs, galloping along the beach.
"There comes the young doctor, I'll take my 'davy," said the fisherman. "Never knowed him let the grass grow under his horse's feet in time of need—blessings on his kind heart!" The door opened, and in walked the expected visiter. He was quite a youth in appearance, but tall, and of a most prepossessing exterior.
"I hope there has no serious accident happened, William."
"Serious enough, your honour," said the fisherman. "There's a fine ship stranded just below; many of the poor fellows on the beach are beyond the reach of your assistance; there is not so much as a broken bone here, however—nothing but wet clothes and bruises. But there's a lady in the other end of the house, doctor—you had better go to her first."