‘It seems my mission, Miss Temple,’ said I with a half-laugh, ‘to furnish you with information on what happens on board the Countess Ida. Once again let me enjoy the privilege you do me the honour to confer upon me;’ and with that, in an offhand manner, I told her the story as you have it.
‘Did anybody, think you, crawl out of the hind windows,’ exclaimed Colledge, ‘and creep up over the stern and strike the man down?’
‘No,’ said I.
‘How did it happen, then?’ asked Miss Temple fretfully.
‘Why,’ I answered, looking at her, ‘the blow was no doubt dealt by a spirit.’
‘Lor’ bless us, how terrifying!’ exclaimed Mrs. Hudson, who, unknown to me, had drawn to my elbow to listen. ‘What with the heat and the sight of that blood!’ she cried, fanning herself violently. ‘A spirit, did you say, sir? Oh, I shall never be able to sleep in the ship again after this.’
I edged away, finding little pleasure in the prospect of a chat with Mrs. Hudson with Miss Temple close at hand to listen to us. At that moment Dr. Hemmeridge made his appearance. He stalked up to the captain, who stood with his hand gripping the vang of the spanker gaff, returning short almost gruff answers to the questions fired at him.
‘The man’s alive, sir,’ said the doctor; ‘but he’s badly hurt. I’ve soldered his wound; but it is an ugly cut.’
‘Is he conscious?’ demanded Keeling.
‘He is.’