"Walters! Why, my lad, what are you doing there?"
"Help!" groaned my old messmate with a piteous look up at us;
"half-smothered--water--help!"
"Well, mutineer or middy," said Mr Brymer, "there's nothing to fear
from you. Take one arm, Dumlow," and seizing the other himself, they
hoisted Walters quickly out of the little compartment and set him on his
feet; but his legs gave way, and he dropped on the deck and lay upon his
back.
At that moment sounds came up from the hatch, which suggested the
possibility of the mutineers breaking through the heavy bulk-head and
making their way on deck that way, so before aught else was done, the
hatch was securely fastened down again.
While that was in progress, but feeling wroth all the time, I bent down
over the poor, miserable-looking wretch, whose eyes were following every
movement I made, and recalling the shot I had heard fired, I at once
came to the conclusion that he was hurt.
"Here," I said roughly, "where are you wounded, so that I can tell Mr
Frewen?"
"I'm--I'm--"
"Well, where?" I said, still very roughly, for the sight of the
treacherous young wretch made a hot feeling of rage against him rise in
my throat.
"Not--not wounded," he said feebly.
"Then what's the matter with you?" I cried contemptuously; "sea-sick?"
"No--no, that--that wretch, Jarette."
"What?" cried Mr Brymer, with a mocking laugh. "What? `Wretch
Jarette!' Do you mean your captain, my worthy young lieutenant?"
Walters' eyes gave a roll and then closed as he lay there; but they
opened again directly, for Mr Brymer gave him an angry thrust--a
thrust, not a kick--with his foot.
"Here, get up, cur! You're our prisoner now. What do you say?"
Walters' lips were moving as Dumlow held the light over him and bent
down.
"Says as you're to stow him in prison, sir, and not let the skipper see
him."
"Bah! Has it come to this? Speak to him, Dale. What does he say now?"
"Water; he is asking for water," I said, as I saw how piteously weak the
lad was.
"Suffering from exhaustion and want of air."
"Then he must have a rest," cried Mr Brymer. "Now, sir, can you get up
and walk?"
"No," said Mr Frewen, decisively.
"Lift him up, Dumlow," said Mr Brymer, "and bring him aft to one of the
cabins. Will you see to him, Mr Frewen?"
The doctor nodded, and I felt as if I wanted to go; but my duty was
there, and I had to stay.