He signed them to go out. The Krooboys from the schooner were waiting, and in a few minutes the party plunged into the woods. CHAPTER XI THE BAT'S EXIT _Columbine_ rolled heavily on the broken swell and the lamp that swung from a beam threw a puzzling light about the cabin. Now and then water splashed on the deck and the slack sails flapped. The fresh breeze had dropped, although the sea had not yet gone down, and Marston had set the topsail and the balloon jib. The light canvas would chafe and was not of much use, but he must reach Kingston as soon as possible. He was exhausted by physical effort and anxious watching, and when Rupert replaced the bandage on his comrade's face he leaned back slackly on the locker seat. Wyndham lay in an upper berth, in the faint draught that came down through the open skylight. A wet cloth covered his face and the cabin smelt of drugs. He did not move and had not been altogether conscious for some time. Rupert wore Harry's white clothes and looked, in the unsteady light, like a rather haggard and jaundiced Englishman. Marston had noted his firm touch when he fixed the bandage and now he was methodically putting back some bottles in the medicine chest. When he finished he bent over the berth for a moment, as if he listened to Wyndham's breathing. "I think he will live," he said. "Although he is very weak, we have got the fever down, and the wound is not as septic as it was. Anyhow, you must get him into hospital at Kingston soon." Marston remembered afterwards that Rupert had said _you_, not we, and thought it significant. Now, however, he was dully pondering something else. "If you had not been on board, Harry would not have lived," he said. "You're puzzled about my saving him?" Rupert rejoined. "Well, I don't owe Harry much and I owe you less. On the whole, I hardly think our relationship accounts for my efforts. A bold experiment is interesting when somebody else is the subject, and one rather enjoys using one's skill." Since there were only one or two very simple surgical instruments in the medicine chest, Marston thought Rupert's skill was remarkable. He had envied him his firm hand and nerve when he cut out the bullet that had pierced Harry's cheek and jaw and lodged in his neck. As he remembered the operation, in which he had been forced to help, Marston shuddered. After a few moments Rupert looked up. "You need fresh air. Go and see how she steers. Harry will sleep, but if it's necessary I will watch." Marston went on deck. It was a little cooler and the touch of the dew on his face was soothing. He put on an oilskin and sat down by the wheel. The night was clear and the tops of the broken swell shone with phosphorescence. _Columbine_ rolled about, shaking her masts and booms with savage jerks. Blocks rattled and now and then the canvas banged. Yet she forged ahead and kept her course.