A hail came at last.
"Yacht ahoy! Have you still got the doctor aboard?"
The weird answer rang amid the shrill treble of the gaffs.
"Then come aboard of us if you can. It's bad."
Two men were down in the boat in a moment, and the yacht edged her way
toward the smack. When Lewis and Tom went down below, the burly
comedian's true character soon became apparent. A handsome young fellow
was twisting and gasping on the floor in pain cruel to see.
"He've eat somethin's disagreed with him, sir. We've tried Gregory,
what my mate had, and we give him some pills what I had, would a'most
done for me. 'Tisn't a morsel o' good."
Tom Lennard picked the poor fellow off the floor--so gently, so very
gently; he eased him up and put the man's head against his breast. A
slight swing of the vessel followed, and the lad shrieked and gasped.
Instantly Ferrier saw what had happened.
"Help me to take his clothes off, Lennard."
They stripped the patient to the skin; then Ferrier glanced once,
touched just lightly enough to make the young man draw breath with a
whistling sound, then the deft, steady fingers ran carefully down, and
Lewis said--
"Tom, keep him as easy as you can till I come back from the yacht.
Skipper, you didn't think to strip him."
"No, sir; why?"
"Well, he has three ribs broken, that is all."
"Eh! he said he had a tumble agin the anchor in the breeze." "Yes, and
I cannot tell how his lung has escaped.
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