A vivid white light spangled with countless stars flashed before his eyes. Then everything became a blank.
IV
The midshipman was not long in a state of unconsciousness; but a lot had happened during that time.
When he opened his eyes and his scattered senses were able to act more or less in consort, he found himself lying on the well-deck and without protection from the tropical sun.
The pirates were active and apparently moving in procession past the spot where he lay. What they were doing he could not make out.
On either side of him was a bound man. The one on his left turned his head and said something that the midshipman could not catch. It was the ship’s doctor. There was a dark red stain above the elbow on the sleeve of his jacket. The wound was bleeding profusely. Neither the pirates nor their victim had taken any steps to staunch the flow; the former probably through complete indifference, the latter because he was bound hand and foot.
On trying to raise himself to tend to the wounded man, Raxworthy discovered that he himself was bound hand and foot—or rather, his ankles were bound and his arms secured behind his back by a short length of rope that allowed only a limited movement.
“Hello, young man!” exclaimed the doctor, speaking with difficulty. “What have they given you?”
“Crack over the head,” replied Raxworthy. “And you?”
“Bullet through the arm. My own pistol, most likely. It was missing when I went to my cabin.”