There O’Neil saw a sight that wrung his heart. Craig’s emaciated form lay on the bed; his feverish eyes wide with a terrible fear as he recognized the boatswain’s mate, in spite of his foreign uniform.
The petty officer walked over to his bedside and looked down at him compassionately. He put his hand almost affectionately on his hot brow.
“You must come back with us, Craig,” he said determinedly; “you’ll not be harmed. Don’t kick; we’ve just time to get back to clear Mr. Perry.”
The sick man cringed and turned white with terror. A fearful shaking took hold of his thin form.
“I dare not,” he pleaded in a terrified whisper. “They’ll send me to a penitentiary for my crimes.”
“Don’t take on so,” exclaimed O’Neil in exasperation, as he saw the precious minutes slipping away. “A hospital is where they’ll send you.”
He beckoned to Captain Garcia and together they lifted the almost exhausted man from his bed; he struggled feebly, but soon realized he was only wasting his strength.
They carried him down into the boat and aboard the “Aquadores,” which was soon heading at top speed back for La Boca.
O’Neil did his utmost to cheer the dejected machinist, who lay tossing miserably, brooding over his imaginary troubles.
“You just tell the truth, Craig,” O’Neil counseled, “and you’ll not be harmed. Mr. Lazar will not be in it if you tell your tale to the court.”