Hurricane Island. Henry Brereton Marriott Watson

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СКАЧАТЬ said I, deliberating. "If the knife was clean there's not much harm done except that you go short of a man, as you say, for some days."

      The boatswain swore as politely as an oath can be managed.

      "I'll come in again later," I said. "Meanwhile keep him in bed."

      But on my next visit it was manifest that the wound was not such a simple affair, for the man's temperature had risen and he was wandering. He gave tongue to a profusion of oaths, which seemed to be directed, in the main, against Gray, but also included the boatswain, raised himself on his arm, and shook his fist in my face, muttering "my share," and "not a brown less," and something about "blowing the gaff."

      It was with difficulty that I completed my ministrations; but I did so, and gave the boatswain a dose to be given to the wounded man at once and another four hours later. It was entirely an involuntary omission on my part that I said nothing of returning.

      Nevertheless I did return only two hours later, and just before midnight. I had had the man removed to a disused cabin, and when I got there the door was locked. Angrily I went on deck and found the boatswain.

      "Pierce," I said, "the door of the sick-room is locked. What on earth does this mean? I want to see my patient."

      "Oh, he's all right, sir. He went to sleep quite easy. I asked one of the hands to keep an eye on him, and I suppose he's shut the door. But it isn't locked."

      "But it is," I said angrily.

      "The blockhead!" said the boatswain. "I'll get the key for you, sir, if you'll wait a minute."

      But I was not going to wait. I was making for the hatchway when I was hailed through the darkness by a voice:

      "Dr. Phillimore!"

      I turned, and little Pye emerged from the blackness.

      "I've been trying to get to sleep, but I've got the most awful neuralgia. I wish you'd give me something for it," said he.

      "In a moment," I said. "I've got to see one of the hands, and then–"

      "Oh, come, doctor, give us a chance," said Pye. "If you tell me what, I'll get it myself. Look here, would a dose of chloral do any good?"

      "My dear sir," said I drily. "Every man in these days seems to be his own doctor. Try it, and if it's only satisfactory enough, we'll have a beautiful post-mortem to-morrow."

      "Well," said little Pye, with a return of his native repartee, "it's precisely because I don't want to be my own doctor that I've come to you."

      That naturally was unanswerable, and I acknowledged the hit by prescribing for him. Then I went on my way.

      The door was open and the boatswain was waiting. He covered a yawn as I approached.

      "It was that fool, Reilly, sir," he explained. "He mucked my instructions."

      I nodded and proceeded to examine my patient. The boatswain seemed to have spoken the truth, for the man was as quiet as a log, save for the movement of the clothes when he respired. But it was that very respiration that arrested my attention. I felt his pulse, and I took the temperature. As I moved to examine the glass, Pierce's thin crimson face, peeping over my shoulder, almost struck upon me. The jaw was sucked into its socket. The temperature was still high, too high to allow of that placid sleep. I contemplated the thermometer meditatively. The port was shut, and the only sounds that broke the night were the dull beating of the screw and the duller wash of the waves against the side of the Sea Queen. The boatswain stood motionless behind me.

      "You are right," I said slowly. "He has gone off pretty comfortably, but I should like to see his temperature lower. However, the sleep will do him good, and I've no doubt I'll find him all right in the morning."

      As I spoke I turned away with a nod and passed out of the cabin. Once on deck, I paused to consider what I should do. Two things I knew for certain: firstly, that the knife-wound was no accident, for no mere horse-play could have resulted in such a deep cut; secondly, that Adams was under the influence of a narcotic. Who had administered it and why? I recalled the man's delirium and his wandering statements to which at the time I had paid little heed, and I thought I began to get the clue. I looked at my watch and found it half-past twelve. Every one, save those on duty, was abed, and the steamer ploughed steadily through the trough, a column of smoke swept abaft by the wind and black against the starlight. I sought my cabin, poured myself out a stiff glass of grog, and sat down to smoke and think.

      At two bells I roused myself and went on deck. How singularly still was the progress of the vessel! I heard the feet of the officer on the bridge, and no other sound in all that floating house. A figure like a statue stood out in the dimness by the chart-house, and I came to a pause. It turned, and I thought I made out my friend the quartermaster.

      "That you, Ellison?" I asked.

      "Yes, sir."

      "I want to look at that man Adams in the forecastle," I said. "Please accompany me, as I may need your assistance."

      I descended the ladder and went forward till I reached the cabin which I had used as a hospital, and turned the handle of the door. It opened, but the darkness was profound, and Ellison struck a match and lit the lamp. Adams lay in his bunk groaning faintly. I turned up his sleeve and examined him. The wound was inflamed, as I had expected, and it was not that which arrested me, but a mark on the arm above the elbow. It was the prick of the hypodermic syringe. My doubts were now certainties.

      As we stood there Adams opened his eyes, and struggled into a sitting posture.

      "No, my man," said I, "you must keep to your back."

      He stared at me, but allowed me to force him backwards, and continued to stare.

      "Adams, can you understand?" said I firmly. "Gray struck you with a knife?"

      "Between the shoulders, damn him," he growled sulkily. "Doctor, my head's bad—give me something to drink."

      I had come prepared, and I did so, and he fell back with a sigh, showing more signs of alertness.

      "You quarrelled?" I suggested, but he made no answer. "Look you here, my man," I went on sternly, "I know a good deal about this, and what you quarrelled over. It would be wiser, believe me, to be candid. Pierce had a hand in this."

      Still he was silent. I pulled from my pocket a syringe, and showed it to him.

      "Do you know what that is?" I asked.

      He shook his head, staring.

      "Well," said I, "it came pretty near finishing you off. You have had a heavy dose. I want to know who did it." I caught up his arm, and thrust the puncture under his nose. He still stared.

      "You were talking pretty wildly in your delirium, and had to be silenced. That was how it was done. If they can't silence you one way they will another. How much was your share to be?"

      The man's face worked in an ugly fashion, and he was at any time a repulsive creature. The glitter in his eyes spoke of fever.

      "The devil's own," he said hoarsely. "They wanted to cheat me of it, and I said I'd split. Damn Pierce, and Gray, and all!"

      "So you were going for the prince's cash-box, were you?" I said equably.

      "It's СКАЧАТЬ