"I would ask that thou let the leech attend him," I said to Lord Howard, as he stood looking down at the body of the lad, "for I fear that he has received his death-blow."
"I trust not," he answered gravely. He turned to several of his men: "Take him down to the cabin, and let Dr. Robbins attend him," he said.
Carefully they picked him up and bore him through the piles of the dead and wounded, that lay upon the deck, down into the cabin.
Lord Howard spoke to me as I passed him, behind the boy.
"Thou shalt leave for London on this ship to-night," he said. "I will send the news of our victory to her Majesty by Sir William Stone, who will command the vessel. Our wounded also go with thee, and I will get aboard another vessel and join Drake in harrying these dogs, so that this will be their last invasion of England."
Bowing my head, I passed down the ladder and into the room where Oliver lay. A fat chubby-faced little man was bending over him. He turned his face as I entered.
"A bad wound," he said, shaking his head and screwing up his eyes.
"It is not fatal?" I said anxiously, as I approached the bed.
"I know not," he replied. "It depends upon the care and attention he receives. With nursing he may recover. I have seen as bad cuts before, and yet the men recovered."
"Doctor——?" I said.