Ben’s face was pale as death.
“Where are you hurt, Nash?” I asked.
He groaned as he told me.
“But it’s water I want, sir; the fellows haven’t brought us any since we were down here. Once Dan Hoolan came to look at us, and when I asked him for some, he turned away with a growl, swearing I might die of thirst before he would bring me any.”
Immediately on hearing this I sprang on deck, and begged La Touche to let me have a jug of water. He ordered one of the Frenchmen to bring it to me, and I returned with it. I first gave some to Nash, who, though he eagerly bent forward his head as I lifted the jug to his lips, seemed to have a difficulty in swallowing. I next put it to Larry’s mouth, and he quickly gulped down the contents.
“Shure, that does a boy good,” he exclaimed, drawing breath. “I wouldn’t have taken it all, if I had been after thinking that Ben would have been wanting it.”
“I hope easily to get some more if he requires it,” I said; but on looking at poor Ben it appeared to me that neither water nor food would restore him. He was leaning back, gasping violently. His eyes, as I held the lantern to them, appeared to have lost all animation. I put the lantern down on the deck, and supported him in my arms.
“It’s cruel in those fellows to keep the manacles on him while he’s suffering thus,” I exclaimed. “I’ll ask La Touche to have them taken off. He could no longer, even if he had a will, interfere with them.”
Springing on deck, I made my request to La Touche; he replied that he would go below and consult his commanding officer. He soon returned.
“If you think that the man is really dying, Lieutenant Dubois will give you leave to do as you desire,” he said, “but you must be answerable for him.”