He handed me a signal-flag, and I laid the poor girl gently down upon the deck with the flag for a pillow under her head.
"Fetch me some brandy, bo'sun. The steward will give you a wine-glass full."
And with one hand upon the wheel to steady the ship, I knelt by the girl's side, holding her cold fingers, with so much tenderness and love for her in my heart, that I could have wept like a woman to see her lying so pale and still.
The boatswain returned quickly, followed by the steward. I surrendered the wheel to the former, and taking the brandy, succeeded in introducing some into her mouth. By dint of this and chafing her hands and moistening her forehead, I restored her to consciousness. I then, with my arm supporting her, helped her into the cuddy; but I did not stay an instant after this, for there was plenty of work to be done on deck; and though we had escaped one peril, yet here we might be running headlong into another, for the ship was under full sail; we had but three men to work her, not counting Cornish, of whose willingness or capacity to work after his rough handling I as yet knew nothing. The glass stood low, and if a gale should spring up and catch us as we were, it was fifty to one if the ship did not go to the bottom.
"Bo'sun," I exclaimed, "what's to be done now?"
"Shorten sail whilst the wind's light, that's sartin," he answered. "But the first job must be to get Cornish out of his lashin's and set him on his legs. He must lend us a hand."
"Yes; we'll do that," I replied. "Steward, can you steer?"
"No, sir," responded the steward.
"Oh, damn it!" exclaimed the boatswain. "I'd rather be a guffy than a steward," meaning by guffy a marine.
"Well," cried I, "you must try."