“I will send my surgeon to dress the young officer’s wound,” said the French captain, approaching; “he will attend also to the other injured men, and I regret that I cannot remain near you to be of any further use.”
Carnegan had watched Norah; an angry frown passed across his brow, but he made no remark. The French surgeon was quickly on board; he desired that Owen should be carried to his cabin, where he speedily dressed his wound and gave him a stimulant which restored him to consciousness. He then left directions with Norah how to treat his patient, assuring her that the hurt was very slight, and that he would soon recover.
“Come, my friend,” said the French officer to Carnegan; “as you are not from the West Indies, we shall have no fear of your giving us the fever. I must therefore beg for your company—you will require the attendance of the surgeon, and one wounded man is enough for that young lady to look after.”
Carnegan appeared to be expostulating; but the French officer refused to accede to his request, and hurried him on board, without allowing him even the opportunity of wishing farewell to Norah.
The French crew had in the mean time brought a fresh topmast on board the Ouzel Galley, to supply the place of the one shot away, and had been busily employed in getting it up. They had not, however, completed the work when the look-out from the mast-head of the French ship shouted, “A sail to the south-east!” and they were immediately summoned back to their own ship. A young lieutenant and seven men, forming the prize crew, then came on board the Ouzel Galley, the surgeon being the last person to quit her.
“Who is the officer who boarded us, and what is the name of your ship?” asked Captain Tracy, after expressing his thanks to the surgeon for his attention.
“He is Captain Thurot, and his ship is the Coquille, the most celebrated privateer out of Dunkirk,” was the answer. “It is positively an honour to be captured by him—let that be your consolation, my dear sir.”
“Faith, it’s but a poor consolation, then,” answered Captain Tracy; “but I thank you for suggesting even a shadow of comfort. I will follow your directions with regard to my poor wounded fellows, and once again beg to express my gratitude for what you have done for them.”
The Coquille immediately casting off her prize, made all sail in chase of the stranger, the rapidly approaching shades of evening soon concealing her from sight. The French prize crew, aided by the seamen of the Ouzel Galley, went on with the work which had been left incomplete of setting up the main-topmast rigging and getting the yard across. Night compelled them to knock off before the work was finished. The wind, however, continued steady, and the ship ran on almost dead before it under her head-sails the French officer, Lieutenant Vinoy, was a remarkably polite young gentleman, but whether or not he was a good seaman remained to be proved. He expressed his wish in no way to incommode Mademoiselle, as he called Norah, and declared that he should be perfectly satisfied to occupy the second mate’s cabin, and would on no account turn her or her father out of theirs. Besides himself, he had but one person, a petty officer, capable of taking charge of a watch, so that he had but very little time to bestow on the young lady those attentions which, under other circumstances, he might have been inclined to pay. She too was fully engaged in attending on Owen and in visiting with her father the wounded and sick men.
The night passed off quietly, and the whole of the first day was spent by all hands in setting up the topmast. It was not till supper-time that the lieutenant entered the cabin, and, throwing himself on a chair, expressed his satisfaction that the task was at length accomplished. “And your men, captain, deserve credit for the way they have worked,” he observed; “they could not have done so more willingly had they been performing the task for their own advantage. For my part, I am pretty well worn out—you may be sure that I shall sleep soundly during my watch below.”