VICTORY.
As soon as the crew of the _Sea Scourge_ had surrendered, Captain Yetsom
ordered them below and closed the hatches.
Then he detailed a small party of his own men and placed them under the
command of Midshipman Bestor, to take charge of the prize, and ordered
the others to their own ship.
As soon as he regained the deck of the _Xyphias_ he sent for Lieutenant
Ethel, and passed down into his cabin.
A strange weakness, dizziness and dimness of sight was creeping over
him.
“Why, what is this?” he said to himself. “It cannot be from that
scratch! Bosh! I must get a glass of brandy.”
But in the act of crossing to his locker, he turned giddy, reeled,
grasped at the nearest object for support, and then fell forward upon
his face to the cabin floor in a deep swoon.
At that very moment Lieutenant Ethel was in the act of coming down the
companion ladder.
He instantly ran to his assistance, exclaiming anxiously:
“Captain! what is the matter? Are you ill?—wounded?”
Receiving no answer he placed his hands under his captain’s arms to lift
him up, and in doing so perceived that his coat was saturated with some
warm glutinous matter. Instantly withdrawing his hands for examination,
he found them covered with thick blood. In serious alarm now, he turned
the captain and drew him gently to a spot where the fresh air could blow
upon him, and then he ran to the head of the companion ladder, and,
calling to the sentinel stationed near, he said:
“Scribner, pass the word to the cockpit that the captain requires the
presence of the surgeon immediately in his cabin.”
Ethel, for his part, rushed back to the side of the captain and began
rapidly to unbutton his coat and vest. When he came to his underclothing
he found it crimson with blood, that had flowed so freely as even
partially to fill the space between his top-boots and the limbs they
covered.
The young lieutenant groaned in anguish of spirit, for he loved his
captain as man seldom loves man.
The surgeon now came down the companion ladder. Seeing Ethel bending
over the prostrate form of the captain and tearing away the
blood-stained clothing, he rushed forward, exclaiming:
“What’s all this? What’s the matter? The captain wounded? Good Lord! he
is one clot of blood! In Heaven’s name, sir, why was I not told before?”
“I came in here but a moment ago and found him lying flat on his face,”
replied the young man, in a heartbroken voice. “Oh, doctor, is he
dying?”
“I hope and trust not. He has fainted from loss of blood.”
“I loved him as a father! he was so good, so kind! Oh, doctor, is he
wounded mortally?”
“How can I tell until I examine the wound? Here, take hold of this
sleeve of his undershirt while I take the other. Now draw gently.
There’s the wound. And what a wound! I fear it is all over with our poor
captain! Come, Ethel! stop that! This is no time for blubbering like a
woman, my boy! A minute, as we use or waste it, may save or lose our
captain’s life. Here, take the water in this basin and gently swab the
blood away from that wound, which I perceive has nearly stopped
bleeding, while I run for my instruments,” said the doctor, rushing out
of the cabin as fast as his fat legs could carry him.
No braver man than young Ethel had boarded the _Sea Scourge_ that day;
yet, as soon as the doctor was gone, he burst into sobs that shook his
whole frame; and his fast-falling tears mingled freely with the water
with which he washed his captain’s wound. He did his work as tenderly
and as thoroughly as possible, and had perfectly cleansed the wound by
the time the doctor returned. And even to the young man’s unprofessional
eye the wound looked less formidable than at first.
The doctor got down upon his knees and made a very careful examination,
and then he lifted his head and exclaimed:
“Thank Heaven! it is not near so bad as I had expected to find it! It is
an ugly flesh wound at worst, and he’ll weather it. You see, a pistol
ball has entered here on his right side and furrowed its way clear
across the chest, and come out under the left arm. No wonder he bled so
much. But he could bear it. He could bear it!”
While the doctor spoke he lost no time; he was busy cutting long, slim
strips of sticking plaster, with which he gradually brought the ragged
edges of the wound together, securing them by laying the strips at right
angles with the length of the wound, and then carefully bandaging.
When this was done, with young Ethel’s assistance, he washed his patient
thoroughly, put fresh clothes on him and laid him on his bed.
Lastly the doctor administered restoratives, that soon brought the
captain to himself.
On recovering his consciousness, Captain Yetsom looked languidly around,
and, finding himself upon his bed, and, seeing Dr. Brown and Lieutenant
Ethel bending anxiously over him, he feebly inquired:
“Why am I here? What has happened?”
“You have been wounded, but not seriously. You fainted from loss of
blood and fell upon your cabin floor. Lieutenant Ethel found you and
called me. And we have dressed your wound, and undressed you and put you
to bed, where you are to remain for the present.”
The captain writhed and frowned. Of all things he abhorred to lie
inactive in bed at this crisis. But he recognized the truth of the
doctor’s words, and he submitted to necessity; the more readily because
he felt that the few words he had spoken had already exhausted him. He
rested to recover a little strength, and then he beckoned young Ethel to
stoop close to his lips.
“Mr. Ethel,” he whispered, “you will take command of both ships. See the
prisoners secured according to your best judgment. Make all necessary
repairs. Then—shape for Cape Town.”
Having with difficulty given these orders, Captain Yetsom turned his
face to the wall, and, from sheer exhaustion fell asleep.
Dr. Brown and Lieutenant Ethel left the cabin. The doctor went to attend
to his other cases. The lieutenant hastened to attend to the important
duties that now devolved upon him.
Meantime, where were our two young friends, and what were they about?
Justin and Britomarte had returned to the _Xyphias_ with the officers
and crew. As soon as the general congratulations upon the victory were
over, Justin walked apart with Britomarte, and taking her unresisting
hand in his, looked upon it with intense affection for a while, and
then, in a low and earnest voice, he said:
“You have gloriously redeemed your word, my sister. You have borne a
heroic part in this engagement. You have passed where the cannonading
has been heaviest, and you have risked your life in the thickest of the
fight! But thank God—oh, forever and forever thank God that this white
hand has been raised only to save and to heal, and not to slay!”
His voice, his whole frame so shook with emotion as he uttered these
last words, that she caught the contagion and dropped her head upon his
shoulder and burst into tears. He drew her closer to his heart and
leaned over her.
The rough sailors passing near saw all this, but they had long ago set
this pair down as betrothed lovers, and their only feeling was of
sympathy with them.
“By ganny!” said one gray old sea dog as he passed, “if I could find a
gal as spunky as that one, I’d spark her myself, old as I am!”
Justin bent over Britomarte, delicately soothing her, more by looks and
touch than by words. At last he said:
“Do you know—can you imagine, dearest, how deeply, doubly grateful I am
to Divine Providence that it is to you I owe my life? A good gift is
always precious, but more precious from those we love, and more precious
from the one we love most!”
“Brother Justin,” she said, raising her head and smiling through her
tears, “do not make more of this matter than it really is. I, too, am
deeply grateful that I was enabled to save one who first saved me, and
who for two long years toiled hard to keep me from starvation on that
desert island. Say no more about that, brother; but oh! devoutly thank
God with me that he has protected you through all the dangers of this
dreadful day!”
“I do—I do, Britomarte! that He has protected, not me alone, but us, for
you have been throughout in as great danger as any here. Oh, Heaven!
when I think of that I——”
“Brother Justin,” interrupted Britomarte, recovering her old tone,
“whatever we do, don’t let us grow sentimental.”
“We will not. But this I will say, and you must hear: By one of the most
heroic acts that man or woman ever dared, at the most imminent risk of
your own life, you have saved mine. But I tell you now, Britomarte
Conyers, that the life you have saved is worthless, and worse than
worthless to me, unless you will allow me to devote it henceforth and
forever to you!”
Again his voice and his whole frame shook with the intensity of his
emotions. She, too, was deeply agitated; but with a queenly effort she
regained the sovereignty over herself and answered gravely:
“I am ashamed of you, brother Justin. That sentiment was quite unworthy
of the mighty champion of the _Xyphias_, who carried terror into the
hearts of the _Sea Scourgers_. Devote your life to God and to his
suffering humanity, and leave me to do the same.”
And she was about to leave him to return to her wounded in the cockpit,
when something in his aspect, that was not sentiment, or passion, or
anything like either, alarmed her.
“Justin—brother! how ill you look! What is the matter? Is it possible
that you are wounded?” she breathlessly demanded.
“Fatigued, dear sister, fatigued.”
“But you are so pale?”
“Have you not seen me as pale as this after a day’s work on the island?”
“Yes, sometimes, when the weather was very warm.”
“Well, the work has been very warm to-day. Never heed me, sister. A
little rest will set me all right, and then I shall be able to give some
assistance to the officers, until they reduce this chaos to order
again.”
Very slowly and reluctantly Britomarte left him, and went down into the
cockpit to send a messenger to look for Judith, while she herself gave
her services to the wounded.
As soon as Britomarte was out of sight, Justin tottered to the nearest
gun carriage, and sat down upon it, utterly unable to move a step
further.
In the hand to hand fight on board the _Sea Scourge_, he had been half
conscious of receiving a wound, though in the excitement of battle he
had paid no attention to it; but when the fight was over and the
excitement subsided, he was made fully aware, by a sharp pain under his
right arm, and a trickling sensation, that he was wounded and bleeding.
Even then, not wishing to part with Britomarte, he had retained her at
his side until an approaching faintness warned him that to save her from
the knowledge of his condition, he must let her go. Therefore he spoke
of Judith, that Britomarte might go in search of her, and give him the
opportunity to look to his wound. His lifeblood was flowing fast away,
his strength was failing him, yet he gave no utterance to suffering,
lest he should distress her whom he loved more than life.
Now that she had left him, it was with a sigh of intense relief he sank
down upon his rude seat. He felt that he had not power to reach his
cabin, and that he must look to his wound as he sat.
He called to a seaman passing near, and desired his assistance. He also
sent word to the sentry at the cabin door not to let the women out until
he should give the word.
Then, with the help of the seaman, he took off his clothes and came to
the wound.
It was not a severe one, though it had bled so freely. He had been
struck from behind with some long, sharp weapon that had entered near
the armpit, passed through the flesh of the right side, and come out
through the skin near the breast bone.
The other sailors, seeing Justin stripped to his waist and covered with
blood, came running to him with expressions of alarm and sympathy, for
by his bravery and kindness he had become a general favorite.
They were all vociferous in their demands for the surgeon. But Justin
checked them with a word.
“My good friends,” he said, “there are many poor fellows who need the
surgeon much more than I do; let him attend to them first.” And then he
sent a cabin boy for some water, towels, and clean clothes from his
stateroom.
At this moment Lieutenant Ethel came out of the cabin. Seeing the men
grouped idly around the gun carriage, he came up to order them to their
duties, when, perceiving the state of Justin, he exclaimed:
“Good Heaven, Mr. Rosenthal! You wounded, too?”
“Yes; but very slightly. Give yourself no uneasiness, lieutenant.”
“Has the surgeon been sent for?”
“No, and pray do not send for him. Leave him to attend to the poor
fellows who need him more than I do.”
“I insist upon sending for him. All our badly injured men have been
looked to. And now that I see your hurt is not the trifle you would make
it out to be. Here, Jones, go down to the cockpit and desire the surgeon
to come up at once. Men, to your duties!”
The messenger went on his errand. The seamen dispersed at the order. And
soon the good doctor came.
“Ah! Mr. Rosenthal wounded? I thought it hardly possible for you to have
escaped, if all were true that I had heard of you. Not badly hurt, I
hope? Let me see! This fellow had struck at you from behind, and with a
dagger, too. May Satan fly away with the cowardly assassin! If he can be
identified, he ought to be hanged!”
“Never mind him now! I don’t care to have him identified. And I don’t
think the wound severe.”
“No, it is not severe! A few days’ rest and regimen will set you all
right.”
The doctor soon closed the wound, and then told Justin to lean on his
arm while he led him to his stateroom.
But Justin asked the doctor first to send down to the cabin, and get the
women out upon some pretence, as he did not wish to distress Miss
Conyers with needless fears.
“Miss Conyers! Why, bless you, my dear fellow, I left Miss Conyers in
the cockpit, hovering like an angel of mercy over the poor wounded
sailors there, ministering to their wants, alleviating their sufferings
and bringing smiles to faces that before her coming had been wrung with
anguish! She is a lovely woman,” said the doctor.
“Heaven knows she is,” responded Justin.
The doctor now supported his patient to the stateroom, laid him in the
berth, and after a few moments left him in a refreshing sleep.