An Involuntary Guest
Mr. Graham was surprised to find that it was just past midnight when
he returned on board the guard-ship. Taught by experience, he had
left his wristlet watch on board, knowing that he was in for a
soaking before the then unknown task was but half completed.
"We've been nearly two hours, lads!" he exclaimed; "and we haven't
finished yet. You two fellows"--indicating Frank Bedford and Pat
Hayes--"can take the dinghy and row up to Wootton Bridge and find a
doctor. Bring him back with you. It's an urgent surgical
case--compound fracture. And, since the post office is bound to be
shut, the doctor will probably have a telephone. Ask him to let you
use it. Ring up the number on the paper and give the message I've
written down. Got that?"
"Yes, sir," replied both Sea Scouts, and without a moment's delay
they brought the dinghy alongside the yacht, clambered into her, and
rowed vigorously in the direction of Wootton Bridge.
"Now, lads," continued the Scoutmaster briskly, addressing the
remaining three youths, "we've got to get the patient aboard here. I
don't suppose our friends the Wootton Sea Scouts have left a
stretcher on board, so we'll have to rig one up. Get busy. If we can
do this part of the business before Mr. Collinson recovers
consciousness so much the better. He won't feel the jolting."
The Sea Scouts had often constructed impromptu stretchers, and, in
spite of being comparatively strange to the guardship and her gear,
they soon got to work. A couple of short boat-hook staves, some light
lashing, and a few blankets were all that were necessary.
While these preparations were in progress Mr. Graham had not been
idle. In one of the large sleeping cabins on the upper deck he had
prepared a comfortable bed in the centre of the room, so as to allow
easy access to the patient from all sides. His next step was to light
a couple of hurricane lanterns and hang them in the rigging of the
yacht, so that the stretcher-bearers could see what they were doing
when it came to transhipping the injured man.
With the aid of the stretcher it was not a very difficult task. The
awkward part of the business was moving the patient from the sofa
bunk on to the stretcher, without allowing his arm to come in contact
with anything. Compared with this the work of lifting him up through
the companion-way was fairly simple.
At length the still-unconscious Mr. Collinson was put to bed on board
the guardship. The Sea Scouts made no attempt to revive him, since
the Scoutmaster thought it best for the patient to remain insensible
until after the doctor had made his examination.
The three Sea Scouts left on board the guardship while the rescue
work was in progress had not been idle. There was a piping hot meal
awaiting Mr. Graham, Desmond, and Findlay on their return, to which,
after having changed their saturated clothes, they did full justice.
"Now, you fellows," said the Scoutmaster, "you had better turn in.
There's nothing more to be done that I cannot do single-handed. If
you don't get decent rest you'll be fit for nothing to-morrow."
The trio were reluctant to go, but they gave no sign of their
feelings. It was discipline, and discipline was a subject upon which
Mr. Graham laid particular stress. When he gave an order he gave an
order, and it had to be carried out promptly. Yet he had the happy
knack of serving out pills with a sugared coating. There was nothing
harsh or unnecessary in his orders. The Sea Scouts knew this and
admired him for it, while he on his part realized that unless
discipline were maintained, without destroying a sense of
self-reliance in the lads, it would be a risky, nay, positively
dangerous business to be responsible for the lives of his youthful
charges afloat.
The three Sea Scouts had not turned in more than five minutes before
the dinghy returned bringing the doctor.
"Sorry to turn you out at this time of night," said Mr. Graham
apologetically.
"Not at all," protested Dr. Baker, after they had mutually introduced
themselves. "Part of my job, you know."
"The hardest-worked profession in the world," added the Scoutmaster,
as he led the way to the cabin where Mr. Collinson was lying, after
telling Bedford and Hayes to follow their comrades' example and turn
in.
"H'm!" ejaculated Dr. Baker, when he examined the patient's arm. "Bit
of a nasty mess. How did it occur?"
"I don't know," replied Mr. Graham, and proceeded to give a brief
version of how he had found the owner of the yacht injured in his
cabin.
With the Scoutmaster's assistance the doctor unbound the broken arm.
"Your youngsters know their work," said the medical man as he
replaced the splints. "I've seen very little better work in some of
the crack London hospitals. Oh, yes, when he comes to give him one of
these pellets, and another in four hours' time if he's in much pain.
I'll call in during the morning if you can send a boat for me at
eleven sharp."
The Scoutmaster rowed the doctor to the quay. During the trip back to
the guardship, Mr. Graham found himself wondering whether he had been
wise in packing off his youngsters. Certain things had to be done,
and if, while he was busy, the patient recovered consciousness it
might be bad for the latter if there were no one on the spot.
Arriving alongside, Mr. Graham found that his surmises were correct.
Mr. Collinson had regained consciousness, but fortunately Desmond had
heard a noise and had gone to see what was the matter.
"How are you feeling now?" inquired Mr. Graham. "Rotten," declared
Mr. Collinson pointedly. "This arm of mine is giving me what is
commonly termed 'what for'."
"Take this," said the Scoutmaster, proffering the violet-coloured
pellet. "Doctor's orders. He's been and gone."
"Morphine, eh? All right."
Ten minutes later the patient was sleeping soundly. Mr. Graham told
Desmond to go to his bunk again; and, having seen that the dinghy was
properly secured and that the yacht was lying comfortably alongside
the guardship, the Scoutmaster "turned in all standing", ready at
the first occasion to attend to his involuntary guest.
Nothing more of an unusual nature occurred during the night. At six
in the morning the Sea Scouts turned out, to find that the summer
gale had blown itself out and that the sky was cloudless and the wind
a gentle breeze from the west'ard.
"Not so much noise, you fellows," cautioned Desmond. "There's an
injured man on board, remember."
"Tell us what happened," asked Bedford.
"There's nothing much to tell," replied the Patrol Leader. "We just
went out, found Mr. Collinson with his arm broken, and brought the
yacht in."
"How did he get his arm broken?" inquired the Tenderfoot.
"None of us knows," was the reply.
"I'd like to find out," continued Coles, scenting a mystery.
"You will soon, I expect," rejoined the Patrol Leader. "Now then;
who's cook?"
"Bedford," replied three voices in chorus.
"Right-o! Get to work, old son," said Desmond, turning to the "cook
of the day"; "and don't give us salt-water cocoa for breakfast."
The meal over, all hands "squared off", airing clothes and bedding,
and stowing everything away in a ship-shape fashion. This last had
only just been completed when a boatman came alongside with a
passenger, Mrs. Collinson.
"Your husband is sleeping well," replied Mr. Graham. "The doctor will
be here at eleven."
"How did the accident happen?" inquired Mrs. Collinson.
The Scoutmaster had to admit his ignorance. For the third time, at
least, during the last eight or nine hours that question had been put
without anyone being able to give a satisfactory reply.
"I was very anxious until I had your telephone message," continued
Mrs. Collinson. "My husband and I are yachting--or I ought to say,
were yachting. Yesterday morning we brought up off Ryde and I went
ashore for the day, my husband having arranged to come ashore for me
at nine. I was on the pier before that time, but the _Ocean Bride_
had disappeared. As the wind had increased I thought that he might
have had to clear out of the exposed anchorage and make for either
Portsmouth Harbour or Cowes. So I went to the Solent Hotel--where I
had previously arranged to go should anything occur to prevent my
returning on board--and rang up the Customs at both places. When I
had a reply that the _Ocean Bride_ had not put into either harbour, I
did begin to feel anxious, because it was blowing hard and my husband
was single-handed. Of course, there was the motor----"
"Was there a motor on board?" broke in the Scoutmaster. "We didn't
notice it in the dark, and no one has been on board this morning. It
might have saved us a fair amount of hard work."
Just then Ted Coles appeared.
"Mr. Collinson is awake, sir," he repeated, with a smart salute.
The Scoutmaster escorted Mrs. Collinson to the cabin, and left her
with her husband. A few minutes later the dinghy returned with Dr.
Baker.
The doctor's report was most satisfactory. The patient was going on
well. His temperature was only one degree above normal, and there was
very little pain in the injured limb.
"He will probably be able to be moved to-morrow," added the medical
man. "Where is your home, Mrs. Collinson?"
"At Derby," was the reply. "We are on our annual holiday. We always
go sailing on the South Coast every summer."
"'Fraid you won't do any more this summer," declared Dr. Baker.
"Derby's a long journey for a man with a compound fracture. Why not
take rooms in the village until your husband is really able to stand
the fatigue of a railway journey?"
"That is precisely what I thought of doing," said Mrs. Collinson,
"until we can make arrangements to get the yacht back to her home
port, Poole."
"There is no immediate hurry for you to get rooms," remarked Mr.
Graham. "If you don't mind the company of a few rather high-spirited
boys, we can fix you up with a cabin on board."
"That will be nice," exclaimed Mrs. Collinson, with genuine
gratitude. "I am sure I'd quite enjoy it. But I hope it would not be
putting you out?"
Dr. Baker took his leave, promising to look in again next morning
unless something occurred to warrant an earlier visit.
Findlay rowed him ashore. The dinghy was away quite twice as long as
the trip required, and when Jock returned he had a large basket in
the stern-sheets.
Without saying a word to his companions on deck Findlay secured the
dinghy and went below to the galley. There, in an atmosphere of
steam, was Bedford in his robe of office--a white apron tied under
his armpits.
"What's for dinner to-day, Frank?" inquired the Second.
"Irish stew," was the reply.
"How about a cup of tea for Mrs. Collinson?" continued the thoughtful
Findlay.
"Just getting it," declared Bedford, indicating a metal tray on which
were a couple of enamelled iron mugs and a plate of the same
material, all showing signs of hard usage, while a battered tea-pot
of huge proportions and a half-consumed tin of condensed milk
completed the picture.
"Hardly what a lady would fancy, old son," remarked Findlay
cheerfully. "This outfit ought to suit."
So saying, he opened his basket and produced two china cups and
saucers, plates, a small brown earthenware tea-pot, and a jug. From
another compartment he took a bottle of fresh milk, a roll of bread,
butter, and lump sugar; while, rolled up in a clean tablecloth were
some knives.
Bedford regarded his chum with ill-disguised astonishment.
"Where did you get that lot from?" he asked. "Who paid for them? Did
Mr. Graham give you the money?"
Jock shook his head.
"It's just my good turn for the day," he replied. "The people at the
shop where I bought the grub lent me the crockery. They wouldn't
charge for the loan of it, though I don't know why they didn't."
In a few minutes the transformation of the tea-tray was complete, and
Findlay, cautiously negotiating the steep ladder to the upper deck
saloon, brought his offering in safety to the person for whom it was
intended. "How delicious!" exclaimed Mrs. Collinson. "Do you always
have china cups on board? I don't. On our yacht we have to be content
with plain enamelled ones."
For the rest of the day the Sea Scouts "carried on" as if the
guardship was not sheltering an invalid. This was at the express wish
of Mr. Collinson. But the lads took care not to disturb the invalid.
For the most part they were away in the dinghy, exploring the creek,
indulging in glorious bathes on the sandy beach to the west'ard of
the entrance, practising semaphore, and half a dozen other
pleasurable tasks so dear to the heart of a Sea Scout.
All too soon came what Patrol Leader Desmond described as"the end of
a perfect day ".