Leonard rubbed the stuff on his side and turned into his bunk. His side
grew so sore he wondered whether or not his ribs really were broken
after all. In his dark den he could still hear the gulls wailing,
although the tug had passed the major portion of the shoaling pilchards.
There also came to him the constant creaking of the dock, the slow dull
recurrence of the ground swell against her bow. The boy's mind centered
fretfully on his lost medicine chest. No doubt it was stolen, and he
began wondering which of the crew had taken it. His suspicion played
idly over the crew, and then settled on the youth called Greer. His
reason for this was that Greer said very little. Madden thought this
must be the sign of a guilty conscience.
He did not brood long, however, as the monotonous sounds exerted a
hypnotic effect on his senses. Once or twice as he was almost falling
asleep, he felt himself clinging desperately to Caradoc's hand, his grip
weakening, the fearsome void gaping under him, then he would awake with
a start that sent a knife of pain through his bruised ribs. After that
he would be forced to feel once more to test his costal region for
broken bones. Finally the vision failed to paint itself, or did not
rouse him, and he slept.
After an indeterminate interval, he was awakened by someone entering the
room.
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