Part 24 (1/2)

”Never mind, get to your bunk.”

Though well-nigh exhausted and s.h.i.+vering with cold, the little c.o.c.kney obeyed with reluctance, being loth to leave the Captain up there to con the s.h.i.+p alone. But he knew better than to disobey or argue, and so, grumbling to himself, he crawled down the companion-ladder and sought his cabin.

At last the dawn broke, chill and sombre and leaden. Calamity, weary and heavy-eyed, scanned the forbidding, sullen sky in the hope of glimpsing a break in its glowering expanse. But no break was there; only wind-torn, tattered shreds of black cloud driving across it to a.s.semble eastward in a ma.s.sed and solid bank of evil aspect.

At six bells--seven o'clock in the morning watch--Smith tumbled out of his bunk after three hours' unbroken slumber, dragged on his oilskins, and stepped into the alleyway with the object of relieving the Captain, who had now been on the bridge over twenty hours. As he reached the deck, still only half awake, he was caught up by a huge sea which came leaping over the bulwarks, swept him off his feet, and dashed him violently against the iron ladder leading up to the bridge. It was a miracle that the wave, as it receded, did not carry him overboard. As it was, it left him a limp, crumpled figure, lying motionless under the ladder with one foot jammed beneath the lowest rung.

Calamity, who alone had witnessed the accident, took the wheel from the quartermasters and sent them to rescue the second-mate from his perilous position. After some difficulty they succeeded in releasing the imprisoned foot and then carried the unconscious man, whose left leg dangled loosely from the knee, to his cabin. Here, after roughly bandaging a wound on his forehead, they stripped him of his dripping garments and laid him in his bunk.

When these details were reported to the Captain he frowned and muttered something under his breath. He dared not leave the bridge, and yet there was no one on board but himself who could set a broken leg or even administer first-aid. No one, that is, except----

”Tell Miss Fletcher,” he said curtly.

That order, probably, represented the biggest humiliation he had ever suffered.

One of the men went to Miss Fletcher's cabin and informed her of what had taken place, adding that he had been sent by the Captain.

”What did he say?” asked the girl.

”All 'e says was 'Tell Miss Fletcher,'” answered the man.

”Tell him I will attend to Mr. Smith,” she said with a curtness that matched Calamity's own. ”Stop,” she added as the man was leaving, ”send the steward along first.”

There was a look of triumph in the girl's eyes as she stepped out of her cabin and went over to the one occupied by the hapless second-mate. He was still unconscious and she at once proceeded to remove the crude bandage from his forehead and bathe the wound properly. While she was in the act of binding it up again Sing-hi entered.

”I want you to help me fix Mr. Smith's broken leg,” said the girl. ”Do you think you can manage it?”

”Plenty savee,” answered the Chinaman with a grin, ”two piecee man fixee one piecee leg.” He had often a.s.sisted Calamity with surgical cases and was proud of his experience.

”Yes, that's right. Can you make me a splint?”

”One piecee leg wantchee two piecee wood?” inquired Sing-hi.

”Yes.”

The Chinaman glanced round the cabin, then removed the books from a narrow shelf just above the bunk and took it down. He split this in two with his hands, and, without awaiting further instructions, started to wind a towel round it to form a pad on which the injured limb could rest.

”Excellent,” she said, watching him. ”You're a splendid a.s.sistant.”

Sing-hi understood her tone more than her words.

”Plenty muchee helpee,” he replied modestly.

At that moment Smith opened his eyes, stared about him in bewilderment, and then uttered a loud groan.

”Gawd, what's happened?” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed.

”Your left leg is broken and there's a nasty gash on your forehead,”