"My dear fellow, I know," was the mate's reply in the same tone. "I'm not going to give up, nor yet despair. There's always a chance for us. That scoundrel may come to his end from a quarrel with one of his men; a ship may heave in sight; or we may board and surprise them, and if we do, may I be forgiven, but I'll crush the life out of that wretch as I would destroy a tiger. Now just leave me to do my duty, and do yours." "What can I do?" replied Mr Frewen. "You do not want me to row away?" "No; but I do wish you to attend to our wounded." "Ah! I had forgotten that," said Mr Frewen, hastily bestirring himself. "Here, some one cried out when one of those shots was fired, and again I heard an exclamation just now." "It was Walters who was hit first," I said, from where I knelt in the bottom of the boat. "Where is he? Somewhere forward?" "No; here," I said. "Has any one matches? It is impossible to see," muttered Mr Frewen. "He is hit in the chest, sir," I said. "How do you know?" cried Mr Frewen. "Is this your hand, my lad? What are you doing?" "Holding my neckerchief against his side to stop the bleeding," I said in a low voice. "Hah!" It was only like a loud expiration of the breath, as Mr Frewen knelt down beside me, and cutting away Walters' jacket he quickly examined the wound by touch, and I then heard him tear my neckerchief and then one of his own pocket-handkerchiefs. "Your hand here. Now your finger here, my lad," he whispered to me. "Don't be squeamish. Think that you are trying to save another's life." "I shan't faint," I said quietly. "It doesn't even make me feel sick." "That's right, my boy. Now hold that end while I pass the bandage round his chest." I obeyed, and there was dead silence in the boat as the doctor busied himself over his patient. "Is he insensible, sir?" I whispered; "really insensible?" "Yes, and no wonder." "Is it a very bad wound?" "Yes; bad enough. The bullet has passed through or else round one of the ribs. It is nearly out on the other side; I could feel it, but it must stay till daylight. That's it.--I've plugged the wound. He cannot bleed now. Thank you, Dale." "What for, sir?" I said innocently enough. He did not answer, but busied himself laying Walters down, and then the lad was so silent that a horrible feeling of dread began to trouble me. I was brought back to other thoughts, though, by the doctor's speaking out of the darkness. "Who else was hurt?" he said. "Neb Dumlow's got a hole in him somewheres, sir," said Barney. "Wish you'd keep that tongue o' yourn quiet, Barney," growled Dumlow. "Who said he'd got a hole in him, my lad?" "Why, you did," cried Barney, "and I knowed it without. Didn't I hear you squeak?" "Well, only just then. It was sharp for a moment, but it's better now." "Let me pass you, my man," said the doctor quietly. "There you are, sir. This way. Neb's on the next thwart."