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Sail Ho! A Boy at Sea, a novel by George Manville Fenn

Chapter 17

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_ CHAPTER SEVENTEEN.

I could not have been insensible many moments, for I was conscious of shouting and trampling, of a thick black smoke which made it seem like night, of voices giving orders, and Jarette yelling to his men now in French, now in English, and all the time there was a crushing weight across my legs and chest.

Then there were a couple of shots fired, and the shutting and banging of doors; some one shrieked, and a man was thrown back over the mass which held me down.

After that I must have been insensible again, for the next thing I remember is hearing a groan, and directly after the voices of men talking in a familiar way.

"That's it, lads; altogether, and out she comes."

I could see light now, for something was lifted off me, and I looked out through a framework of shattered woodwork at the bright sunshine.

"Now then," said the same voice; "lift him out on to the deck."

It was Bob Hampton speaking, and it was Dumlow who spoke next in a low growl.

"Poor lad; he's got it bad, arn't he?"

I thought in my half-stunned fashion that they were talking about me; but they were lifting some one else, and just then Jarette came up. I couldn't see him, but I could hear him blundering over the wreck around, and his words plain enough as he said sharply--

"Dead? Overboard with him if he is."

"No, he arn't dead," said Bob Hampton. "Doctors don't die in a hurry. He'll come to and cure hisself, I dessay. Come on, mate."

In a muddled, dreamy way I knew now that it was a doctor they were carrying, and if it was a doctor I felt that it must be Mr Frewen; but what it all meant, or why I was lying there, I could not tell in the least.

There was half-darkness then for a little while, then light--then darkness again, and some one was leaning over me.

"Steady, lad," was growled, and I knew it was Bob Hampton again, and I tried to think and ask him what was the matter, but no words would come, though everything was growing very clear now, and the men's words bounded painfully sharp upon my ears.

"Got him?"

"Ay, ay."

"Heave then, together. No, hold hard; the corner of that portmanter's over his hind leg. That's it; hyste it away."

I felt myself laid down while something was done close to me, and then I was lifted once more and carried out into the warm sunshine, and laid upon the hot boards of the deck.

"Poor laddie," growled Bob Hampton, "he's got it badly. Rum world this here, Neb!"

"Orful," said Dumlow.

"Reg'lar wusser," said another voice, which I knew to be Blane's.

"Look sharp there, my lads," cried Jarette, from somewhere overhead, which must have been the poop-deck. "That one dead?"

"Ay, ay, sir."

"You're a liar, Barney Blane."

"If he's dead, pitch him overboard."

"But he arn't dead, captain," growled Bob Hampton. "There's stuff enough in him to make a full-sized sailor yet, and he's far too good to be chucked over to the sharkses."

"But Barney Blane said he was dead."

"Don't you take no notice o' what Barney Blane says, skipper," cried Dumlow. "He dunno chalk from cheese best o' times, and I know he can't tell a dead man from mutton."

"Hear, hear, mate!" cried Bob Hampton. "Haw, haw, haw; we'll chuck the boy overboard if you like, capt'n; but there's a kick in one of his hind legs, an' I see him wink and waggle one ear."

"Let him lie there a bit till I come round," cried Jarette. "You go on and clear that cabin."

"Ay, ay," cried the three men who were near. "Come on, lads. Here, Barney, go and get that there pannikin o' water from the breaker, and pour some in the boy's mouth. What yer go and say he were dead for?"

"Well, mate, I thought as he were. He had enough to ha' killed a man, let alone a boy."

"You look sharp, and we'll pull him and the doctor through, see if we don't. I don't think no bones is broke. Them chesties sheltered 'em."

Then I felt water being trickled into my mouth and some poured over my forehead, while, though I could neither move nor speak, I heard Jarette's voice giving orders apparently ever so far away.

"Look sharp, lads," said Bob Hampton, "or Frog-soup 'll be back and bully us."

"Must give the jollop purser a drop more," said Dumlow. "Here, he arn't dead neither; takes the water down as free as if it were grog. They'll come right agen, won't they?"

"Ay, to be sure," said Bob Hampton. "Now then, heave ahead afore he comes. Rum games these here, messmets."

"Rum arn't the right word," said Dumlow, and then all was perfectly still again, and I lay there wondering what was the matter, and why I couldn't think as I should, and make out why I was lying there on my back in the hot sun listening to a low moaning sound, and some one close to my ear talking in a muttering tone.

Then there was silence again for I don't know how long: before there was another low moan, and the voice close by me muttered--

"Oh, for more strength--could have saved--"

The words died out, and I lay there wondering still. Then I felt that people were coming near me, and stopped talking together.

I must have grown a little more sensible then, for I recognised the voices as some one gave me a rude thrust with the foot.

"This boy's dead enough," and the words sounded so sharp and cruel that they quite stung me.

"I think he is," said another voice, which I knew to be that of Walters.

"Oh yes; try him," said the first speaker, Jarette, I was certain.

And now as I felt some one take hold of my hand and raise my arm, my full senses seemed to come, and with them an intense feeling of pain. It was just as if the lifting of that arm was connected with something within me which had been stopped up, for as the arm was allowed to drop heavily back, and Walters said callously--"Yes; he's dead enough," I shouted as loudly as I could--"No, I'm not!" and opened my eyes to stare up at the group on deck.

There was a hearty burst of laughter at this, and I suppose it was partly directed at Walters, who sprang up as sharply as if I had bitten him, and then joined weakly in the laugh.

"Just like him," he said, with a contemptuous shrug of his shoulders. "Shamming again."

"Come, I like that," I said faintly. "Why, your life's all sham."

He took a step toward me as I lay there, and I thought he was about to kick me, but Jarette laid a hand upon his shoulder.

"Let him be," he said shortly. "Look here, young Dale, where are you hurt?"

"I suppose I'm not hurt at all," I said, speaking with a good deal of pain; "if I say I am, he'll tell you I'm shamming."

"Never mind him, boy," said Jarette, "listen to me. Look here, the game's up with the officers, and they're either my prisoners or as good as dead, so there's nothing more for you to do. Now, I suppose you don't want me to have you thrown overboard, do you?"

"Of course not."

"Very well, then; it's only a change in your captain, and I dare say you can be useful. What do you say to joining me?"

"What, turning mutineer and pirate?" I said boldly.

"Don't you use ugly words, boy," he said, with a scowl. "Come, I offer you good terms; will you join us?"

"You don't want midshipmen," I said, as I tried to think hard as to what I ought to do under the circumstances.

"How do you know, boy? Join us, and serve under me. It will only be like going on again with your old messmate here, and I dare say I can promote you faster than you would have been under Captain Berriman."

"But where are we going? What do you mean to do with the ship?"

"What's that to you? There, I offer you your chance; will you join us?"

"I would if I was you, Mr Dale, sir," said a familiar voice, and turning my head with difficulty, there was Bob Hampton looking quite frank and honest, and as if there was not such a thing as a mutineer on the face of the earth.

"Why? What for?" I cried, with a catching of the breath which made me raise my hand to my breast.

"'Cause we're all so jolly together now, sir. You'll like it same as me and my mates do. Jyne us, sir."

"All right," I said, "if--"

"If what?" said Jarette, sharply.

"If you rouse up the doctor and make him tend to me, for I'm afraid I've got some broken ribs."

"Good! We will," cried Jarette, but to my astonishment Walters suddenly roared out--

"No; don't trust him. He is a traitor, and he would only play the spy."

With a good deal of effort I raised myself upon one arm and looked him full in the face, for the pain I suffered and his words roused up in me a furious burst of temper.

"Traitor! sham!" I cried. "You ought to be hung for turning against your captain as you did."

"Don't trust him, Jarette; he'd only betray us."

"If ever I get a chance, I will, if it's only for the sake of seeing you get your deserts, you miserable hound!" I cried. "No, I'm not fit to be trusted, Jarette," I cried, now quite beside myself with rage and pain; "and don't let that miserable cur come near me, or I shall try to do him some mischief."

"Do you hear, lieutenant?" said Jarette, with a sneering laugh. "Why don't you go and serve him out for threatening you? He's about helpless if his ribs are broken, and couldn't hurt you back."

"I'm not going to meddle with the miserable, sneaking cur," he said contemptuously. "And you needn't banter me; I've saved you from being cheated by him."

"Oh, I don't know," said Jarette, gazing at Walters through his half-closed lids; "I dare say it was all talk, for he wouldn't have dared to play tricks. But I say, lieutenant, he has got a stouter heart than you have. He'd be too much for you."

Walters gave him a malicious look, full of angry spite, and as Jarette saw it, there was a complete change in the man. His eyes flashed, his form seemed to dilate, and he looked taller, while I now realised how it was that he had gained so much ascendancy over the men, making them follow and trust him with powers which would possibly land them all in gaol, if no worse fate were in store.

He and Walters were close to me, and I heard what could not have reached the ears of the men.

"Take care, youngster," he half whispered. "You've got a hasty tongue, and it stings sometimes. Mind I don't turn and sting again. Recollect you've committed yourself so deeply that you are mine now; and recollect, too, that I'm captain."

"Yes, I know," said Walters, sharply, "but he isn't to be trusted, and--"

"You hate him," said Jarette. "Well, I know you do. There, that's enough. Here, some of you, which cabin is empty?"

"Second one on the left," cried several.

"Is the door broken by the powder?"

"No; it's all right," said Bob Hampton.

"Carry 'em both in," said Jarette. "Fasten 'em up, and bring me the key. There, youngster," he continued to me, "I'm sending the doctor with you to set you right."

I nodded, and then had hard work to keep from shrieking out as two men lifted me and carried me through the companion into the shattered saloon, and then into the cabin on the left, laying me down pretty gently in the cot.

It seemed quite natural to me that I should be brought there, though it was unintentional on Jarette's part, for the cabin I was in was that apportioned to Mr Frewen, who was now carried in and laid upon a rug which covered a portion of the floor.

"Cheer up, Mr Dale, sir," said Dumlow, bluffly, for he was one of the men who had helped to carry in Mr Frewen. "They won't starve yer. If they do I'll bring you some o' my wittles and drink."

"Look here, Dumlow," I said, "where are the officers and the passengers?"

"Shut up, sir, in their cabins, like precious crocks in a cupboard, that's where they are; and now you're just the same, only you've got a crack in you somewheres."

The men all laughed and went out, and shut from my sight the shattered side, and confusion of chests and boxes lying in the saloon. Then I heard the door fastened, and I made an effort and looked over the side of the cot, groaning the while with the pain it gave me, down at poor Mr Frewen, who lay there quite insensible, and I said to myself bitterly--

"Very kind of them to send me a doctor; why, I shall have to doctor him."

Then for the first time I saw that he was bleeding a little from one side of his head, and this roused me so that I forgot a good deal of my pain; and after feeling my chest and side a little to try and make out where my ribs were broken, and without success, I managed to crawl out of the cot, and got down on my knees by my companion.

"Mr Frewen," I said; "Mr Frewen," and I laid my hand on his forehead. "Oh, I say, do, do pray try and speak. Tell me what to do for you."

There was no reply, and I grew more excited, and as I did, so did my suffering seem to be less, and all my anxiety began to be about him.

"Mr Frewen," I said. "Can't you say a word?"

But he made no sign, and, forced by the circumstances to act, I leaned over, turned his head a little more on one side, and found that the hair was all matted together with the blood, which was already drying up.

Then I began to think that the hair ought all to be cut away, the wound bathed and strapped up, and I was about to proceed to do it, when another thought occurred to me.

It was this:--

The bleeding had pretty well stopped, and would, I felt sure, quite stop in a few minutes, so perhaps I should not be acting wisely if I disturbed the injury then, for it might be better if I tried to bring him to his senses, and then he would advise me what to do, and how to do it.

I believe I was in great pain then, but I forgot it for the moment as I looked round and I saw that there was water there, and sponges and towels were close at hand, so without farther hesitation I poured out some of the water into a little basin, and taking a sponge, well bathed his face, after opening the window, for the cabin was suffocating.

I bathed and bathed, and changed the water so as to get it a little cooler, though the rapid evaporation helped me most, and at last, to my great delight, his eyelids began to quiver, and finally he lay there staring at me wildly, and with his face terribly white.

"Mr Frewen, do you know me?" I said.

"Know you?--know you? Yes, of course," he said hoarsely. "What is the matter?--what has happened?" and his hand went to the back of his head.

"You were hurt when the powder went off," I said, watching his face eagerly. "Don't you remember?"

"Yes," he cried eagerly. "I threw myself back over the barricade with you."

"And the door and all the boxes and chests were blown in and buried us, I think."

"Was--was any one killed?" he said huskily.

"I don't know; I think not," I replied.

"But don't you know, boy?" he cried angrily.

"No; I was hurt by the chests the same as you were, and don't know what happened. It was all like being in a dream till a little while ago."

"Then you know nothing?" he said excitedly.

"I only have a sort of misty recollection of lying there after the explosion, till I was carried out on deck and laid in the sun."

Then I told him all about being like in a nightmare, and hearing them talk of throwing us both overboard, only Bob Hampton said we were alive.

"The scoundrel!" he said bitterly.

"Well, I thought it very jolly of him then," I said, "for if it had not been for him we should have--"

I pointed downward.

"Right to the bottom of the sea," I added.

"Yes; and you seem to have been hurt."

"Hurt? I should think I was, horribly," I cried; "but it don't seem so bad now, since I've been helping you."

"But the passengers, Dale?" he said excitedly, as he tried to sit up, but sank back with a groan; "have you not heard anything whatever about them?"

I shook my head.

"Didn't you see anything to suggest that any one was killed and--and thrown overboard?"

"No, Mr Frewen."

"Go out then and make inquiries, my good lad," he said piteously; "this suspense is worse than the injury."

"You forget," I said quietly.

"Forget? What?"

"That we are prisoners. I couldn't get out."

"Yes, yes," he moaned. "I forgot. My head is all confused and strange. What's that?"

"Some one knocking gently at the bulk-head," I whispered, for there were three gentle taps on the wooden partition just opposite to where I was kneeling.

"Then there is some one else a prisoner," he cried. "Quick, speak to him."

"Better not speak," I said; "we may bring in some of Jarette's gang;" and rising softly, I took out my pocket-knife, and gave three gentle taps with the haft just about the spot where we had heard the sounds.

The moment I had done, two knocks came in answer, and when I had responded in the same way, there was one single one given which I also answered.

"That only stands for some one being there," said Mr Frewen, with a sigh; "we have no code arranged by which we could communicate."

"Oh yes, we have," I said, with a laugh, and, after breaking my thumb-nail, I managed to open out a gimlet fitted in the back of my knife, in company with a button-hook, a lancet, another to bleed horses, a tooth-pick, pair of tweezers, and a corkscrew, all of which had been very satisfactory to look at when I received the knife as a present; but I often had come to the conclusion that the knife would have been better with two more blades instead. But now its time had come, and with a feeling of being able to triumph over a difficulty, I stepped to the bulk-head, feeling rather giddy and strange in the head, but this passed off in the excitement, as I rapidly stuck in the point of the gimlet and began to bore.

The bulk-head was composed of three-quarter inch board, but I kept on boring and boring without apparently getting through, and I drew out the gimlet at last, after boring in as far as I could, and stood looking at the position in dismay.

Just then came a fresh tapping, to which I responded, and then as I listened to the hollow sound I knew what had been wrong. I had been boring through the board just where it was backed by one of the uprights which gave strength to the bulk-head.

The next minute I had bored a hole right through, and on withdrawing the gimlet I could see daylight.

"Who's that?" I whispered, with my lips to the tiny hole, and placing my ear to the orifice I heard for answer--

"Me, Mr Preddle. Who are you?"

"Dale and Mr Frewen," I answered.

"What does he say?" asked Mr Frewen.

"Says he is so glad, sir."

"Thank him, and ask him about the passengers, whether any one is hurt."

I whispered the question through the hole, and listened for the answer.

"Captain Berriman and Mr Brymer both wounded again in the struggle, when the men rushed into the saloon after the explosion. Now shut up in their cabins."

"But the passengers; ask him about the passengers," whispered Mr Frewen.

I asked, and the answer came back--

"No one hurt."

I saw Mr Frewen close his eyes at this, and his lips moved as I felt sure in prayer.

"Yes?" I whispered back, as Mr Preddle said something which sounded all buzz, buzz, buzz.

"I say, what will those wretches do with us?"

"I don't know."

"Will they kill us and throw us overboard?"

"No," I whispered through. "If they had meant that, they would have done it at once. But don't talk any more now."

"Buzz, buzz, buzz."

"What say?"

"Buzz, talk, buzz, buzz."

I opened my penknife, for I knew that the reason why Mr Preddle's words sounded so buzzy, was that a lot of little bits of wood were sticking up through the hole left by the gimlet. And so it proved, for after a little cutting all the words sounded clearly enough, and he promised to wait till I had attended to Mr Frewen's injuries before asking any more questions.

"Yes," he said, "I'll wait; but when one is in prison, and can talk to the prisoners next door, it does seem to do one good."

I had just knelt down to see to Mr Frewen's head, when I heard my name pronounced again.

"Yes," I cried impatiently, "what is it?"

"Only a word," said Mr Preddle.

"Quick, then."

"You were out on the deck some time, weren't you?"

"Yes; a long time," I replied impatiently. "Why?"

"Could you see how my poor fishes were getting on?"

"No, I couldn't," I said gruffly, for my temper was as sore as my body just then, and Mr Preddle irritated me; he did seem so girlish and weak.

"Now, Mr Frewen," I said, "tell me what to do to your head."

"Leave it alone," he said, smiling, "or no, perhaps you had better do something to it; I shall be better and stronger, and I want all my strength now."

"To help get back the ship?" I said.

"Yes, of course. Now then, my lad," he continued, "you must think that you are a surgeon's mate or dresser." I nodded.

"You will not mind?"

"Of course not, sir."

"Then go to that drawer, and you will find scissors, lint, bandages, and strapping."

I went to the drawer, and there, neatly arranged, were the articles he had described, in company with many more.

"Now get water, sponge, and towel," he said, and this I did.

"Now go to work and cut away the hair, so that you can see what damage is done."

"But I'm afraid--"

"What?"

"Of hurting you."

"Then set that aside, boy," he said, smiling. "A surgeon must take all the care he can, but he must not be afraid of hurting his patient. Go on."

It was not quite my first surgical experiment, for I had bound up cut fingers before then, and once roughly tended to the broken arm of a school-fellow, who had fallen in climbing a tree, though my attention merely consisted in laying the arm straight and bandaging it with a woollen comforter, while the doctor was fetched; but all the same I felt very hot, nervous, and uncomfortable, as, in following out Mr Frewen's instructions, I cut away the hair, bathed the place, and told him exactly what I saw, horrible as it was.

"Pooh!" he said, with a little laugh. "A mere scratch. Why, if it were a patient I was attending--you, for instance--I should say you were making a miserable fuss about nothing."

"But it is very bad, sir," I said. "Why, you were quite insensible."

"Yes, Dale, that was the contusion. One of the chests must have been driven against my head like a square shot. Well, there's one comfort, the skull isn't cracked. Now cut some strips of that plaister, and place them across and across."

I followed out his instructions, and ended by laying some lint over the wound and securing all with a neatly sewn on bandage.

He turned very pale twice over as I was busy, and, in obedience to a whisper, I took down a bottle and measured out some of its contents, afterwards administering the dose in water.

"Not pleasant stuff, Dale," he said, smiling feebly, "and it's rather hard lines, as you lads would call it, for a doctor to have to take his own stuff; but you see I have a nasty crack, and if I had not been a particularly thick-headed sort of fellow, I'm afraid I should not have wanted another."

"What is that you have taken?" I asked. "Only ammonia--sal volatile--a capital stimulus when faintness comes on. There, I'm better now, and I dare say I shall do. I can examine you now. Ribs broken, eh?"

"I thought so, sir."

"And I'm sure you are wrong, my lad. If your ribs, or even one rib, had been fractured, you could not have gone on working for me like that. You would have been in agony."

"Well, it does hurt pretty tidily, sir."

"Perhaps so, Dale, but not to the extent it would under those circumstances. There, I'm better now. Help me to sit up." I helped him, and he turned ghastly.

"Feel faint, sir?" I said.

"Horrible, Dale, but I will master it. This is no time for giving way like a young lady in a hot room. There, that's better. Nothing like making a fight for it. Come."

"Oh no; I'm not very much hurt, sir," I cried. "Wait till you are easier."

"Come closer," he said firmly. "Off with your jacket, and open the neck of your shirt."

I obeyed him unwillingly, and making another determined effort to master the faintness from which he suffered, he carefully examined my chest and side, giving me such intense pain the while that I too felt sick, and would gladly have prescribed for myself a draught of the medicine he had taken.

"There," he cried at last, "that's perfectly satisfactory. No ribs broken, Dale, but you had a tremendous blow there from the nearest box. It's a wonder that we were not killed."

"Then I shan't want strapping or bandaging, sir?"

"No; I'll give you some arnica to bathe the place with. You'll have some terrible bruises all up your side, but that will be all. Now then, my lad, that we have repaired damages, the next thing is to see what we can do for other people."

"Yes, and about re-taking the ship," I said excitedly, though I could not then see the slightest chance of success. _

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