“We know the trouble you are in,” the man continued, “and we are sorry for you. It’s not John Radway we are down on; it’s his principles; but we want to forget them till we get you out of this scrape. There are twenty of us here, all your neighbors and former friends. We know there is no doctor in Appalachicola, and we have come to say that if you can get the surgeon of the gun-boat to come ashore and mend up the sick lad, he shall have safe-conduct both ways. We will guard him ourselves, and we pledge our word that not a hair of his head shall be touched.” This friendly act came nearer to breaking down John Radway’s bold front than all the persecutions he had been subjected to. He threw the door wide open, put the revolver in his pocket, and grasped the spokesman’s hand. “I need not try to thank you,” he said; “you know what I would say if I could. My poor Jack is in great pain, and I shall make up my mind between this and daylight what had better be done.” The knowledge that he was surrounded by friends instead of enemies made Jack feel better in a few minutes; but the pain was too great to be relieved permanently in such a way, and all night long he lay with his teeth shut tight, determined to make no complaint. By daylight he was in such a high fever that his father had no further doubts about what to do. He must have medical attendance at once; and the quickest way was to take him out to the gun-boat, rather than risk the delay of getting the surgeon ashore. So a cot-bed was converted into a stretcher by lashing handles to the sides. Colored men were sent for to carry it, and another was sent down to the shore to make Mr. Radway’s little boat ready. The morning sun was just beginning to gild the smooth water of Appalachicola Bay, when the after-watchman on the gun-boat’s deck, who for some time had been watching a little sail-boat with half a table-cloth flying at the mast-head, called out: “Small flag-of-truce boat on the port quarter!” Jack Radway, lying on the stretcher in the bottom of the boat, heard the words repeated in a lower tone, evidently at the door of the Captain’s cabin: “Small flag-of-truce boat on the port quarter, sir.” An instant later a young officer appeared at the rail with a marine-glass in his hand. “Ahoy there in the boat!” he called. “Put up your helm! Sheer off!” The _Alleghany_ lay in an enemy’s waters, and she was not to be caught napping. Nothing was allowed to approach without giving a good reason for it. Then Jack’s father stood up in the boat. “I have a boy here with a broken thigh,” he said. “I want your surgeon to set it.” “Who are you?” the officer asked. “John Radway--a loyal man,” was the answer. The name was as good as a passport, for the gun-boat people had heard of John Radway.