"My
people have shipped me--flung me away, broken, no use," he flung out a
long hot hand at Madden. "Why do you try to pick up the pieces?" He
laughed thickly, which sent wild pains through his head and stopped him
suddenly.
Madden stared penetratingly at this outbreak.
"Pour water over him, Deschaillon, Hogan," commanded the American
briefly.
As his two helpers hurried out after buckets, Leonard came close to the
sufferer.
"Where is it?" he asked shortly.
"Where--what?"
Madden stooped over him. "Where's that medicine chest? What did you do
with it? You wouldn't have started that tirade unless you had it."
"You Americans--very keen," panted Caradoc in the midst of his rackings.
"Think you're d-deuced smart--it's in my bag's lining--there was some
alcohol in it, so I took it--let it go--don't do anything--for--me."
Deschaillon entered with a bucket of seawater. They stretched the sick
man on the floor, and a moment later, the Englishman shuddered under the
deluge.
"This ought to be an ice pack," observed Madden, then: "I believe I
remember laying that medicine case in my old cabin; I'll see," and he
walked out of the mate's room into the darkness.
CHAPTER V
SAIL HO!
Caradoc lay stretched out in a deck chair, on top of the broad wall of
the dock, a cool dawn breeze playing over him.
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