"
"Well, sir, you fare to be a clever man, and you're a good 'un. We're
not three very good 'uns, me and these chaps isn't, but if you haves a
meetin' Sunday we're goin' to be here."
Then came the usual handshaking, and the two gentlemen's palms were
remarkably unctuous before the visitors departed.
"Look here, Lennard, if I'd had slings something like those used in the
troopships for horses, I should have got that poor fellow up as easily
as if he'd been a kitten. And now, how on earth are we to lower him down
that narrow companion? We must leave it to Freeman and the men. Neither
of us can keep a footing. What a pity we haven't a wide hatchway with
slings! That twisting down the curved steps means years off the poor
soul's life."
The gentle sailors did their best, but the patient suffered badly, and
Ferrier found it hard to force beef-tea between the poor fellow's
clenched teeth.
Lucky Tom Betts! Had he been sent back to the smack he would have died
like a dog; as it was, he was tucked into a berth between snowy sheets,
and Tom Lennard kept watch over him while Ferrier went off to board the
disabled smack. All the ladies were able to meet in the saloon now, and
even the two invalids eagerly asked at short intervals after the
patient's health. Lucky Tom Betts!
Marion Dearsley begged that she might see him, and Tom gave gracious
permission when he thought his charge was asleep. Miss Dearsley was
leaning beside the cot.
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