"Ha' mussy on us! Here, Mr Belton, sir, quick," cried the boatswain,
hoarsely. "You said I warn't to bring pistols. Wish him as 'vented 'em
had been drowned first. Look ye here, sir; is no one going to bring a
light? Mr Belton, sir; Master Syd; pray make haste. I've made you
another job."
All this in a wild, excited manner, as, trembling now with horror,
Sydney knelt down by a dark-looking object on the rocks, lying quite
motionless, and for a few moments he could not collect himself
sufficiently to render any aid.
"Ha' mussy on us!" groaned the boatswain. Then with an angry burst, "I
want to know how he got here."
"Stowed hisself away in the boat," said one of the men, "when we corned
away, but I thought he'd gone back again to the ship."
"Brought him down. My own boy," groaned the boatswain. "Ah, here's the
light."
"Quick! Stand round so as to shelter the candle," cried Syd, who was
now recovering himself and trying to act in a calm, business-like
manner; and directly after he was kneeling there in the centre of that
ring of anxious faces, and proceeding by the light of the candle, which
the boatswain held down, to examine the boy, who lay curled up in a
heap.
To all appearances he was dead, so still did he lie; but the moment Syd
took hold of one hand to feel the injured boy's pulse, there was a
sudden spasmodic jerk and a loud yell which went echoing up the valley.
"Hah!" ejaculated Syd, for he knew it was a good sign. "Hold still,
Pan," he continued, gently; "let me see where you are hurt."
"Let him be, sir. I've killed um, I know I have!"
Syd tried to find where the boy was wounded, but at every touch Pan
shrieked out as if in agony, and kicked out his legs and drew himself up
again as if trying to make himself into a ball.
"It's all over with the poor lad, sir," groaned Strake. "Better let him
die in peace, and I gives myself up, sir. Nothin' but misfortun' here."
"Try and bear it, Pan," said Syd, gently. "I must see where you are
hurt before I can do you any good."
But the boy shrieked out wildly every time he was touched, and after
many essays, Syd felt ready to give up in despair.
"Ha' mussy on us!" groaned the boatswain. "Where's he got it, sir?"
"I'm afraid it is somewhere in the body, Strake," replied Syd, softly;
"but I don't like to give him pain.--Is the hurt in your chest, Pan?"
The boy shrieked again, as a hand was slid into his bosom.
"I'm afraid it is there, Barney; I ought to examine him and stop the
bleeding."
"Yes, sir; course you ought; but I don't like to see you hurt the boy."
"No, it is very terrible, but I'll be as gentle as I can. Come, Pan,
lad, be a man, and let me see where you are hurt."
Syd touched him again, but there was another yell and kick, not before
the boy pressed his chin down in his chest, and cried out more wildly
than ever.
"Is his spine injured?" cried Roylance.
"Can't be," replied Syd, "or he could not kick out like he does."
"And for the same reason his legs must be all right," said Roylance.
"Spine of his back and his legs," said Strake; "well, that's something
to be thankful for."
"The bullet must have lodged in his chest," said Syd, "and I dare say
perhaps has injured him fatally. No blood visible; he must be bleeding
inside."
There was a pause after a couple more attempts to inspect the injury.