“Ay, ay, sir,” he answered, stepping forward over the prostrate bodies of our shipmates to execute the order.
Assisted by two of the men the least hurt, we got the mast stepped.
“Now up with the sail, my men!” I sang out.
At length it was hoisted, though the moment the enemy saw what we were about they seemed to redouble their efforts to destroy us. I breathed more freely as I got the sheet aft, and saw the canvas swelling with the breeze; but even then I knew that a shot might carry away our mast or halliards, or, indeed, send us all to the bottom. Just as I had got all to rights, and was ready to take the helm, poor little Harry, overcome with pain and the loss of blood, sank down by my side. I placed him carefully in the stern-sheets, and Tom Rockets, though badly wounded himself, crawled aft and endeavoured to examine his wound and to staunch the blood which flowed copiously from his side. The bullets began now to fall less thickly about us than before—a sign that we were increasing our distance from the shore. Had the enemy possessed a boat they might have taken us without difficulty, but, fortunately, they had none. Indeed, I have no doubt that their aim was to destroy us completely, as a punishment on us for our attempt to burn their vessel. In spite of the shots which still fell around us, we kept steadily on our course, while occasionally I turned an uneasy glance over my shoulder to see how far we had got from the enemy. At length scarcely a shot reached us; a gentle thud every now and then showing us that those which did so had almost lost their power. I was able now to pay more attention to my young companion. I asked him how he did.
“I am afraid that I am more hurt than I at first fancied,” he replied. “If I die, you will write to my mother, and tell her all about me, will you, Hurry?”
“Oh, don’t talk of dying, my good boy,” I answered, though I felt a choking sensation in my throat as I spoke. “We shall soon be on board, and then you will be properly cared for, and will feel more easy.”
“Oh, I do not complain,” said he, “still, I have an idea that I am mortally wounded. Perhaps it is only fancy, you know, and I am not afraid.”
“That’s right, be a brave boy, and keep up your spirits. You’ve many more years to live, and will be an admiral one of these days, I hope,” said I, though my hopes were far less sanguine than my words. “See, scarcely any of the shots reach us; we shall soon be out of the enemy’s fire.”
He looked up in my face and smiled. One of the wounded men groaned. Harry heard the poor fellow. A look of intense pain passed over his countenance.
“Oh, I wish that we could get to the doctor! Let him look to that poor man before me; I am sure he wants him most. Who is it?”