His condition was good. The men carried him to the tent, where
Jones sat beside him, and the other men stood outside, uneasy and
watchful, looking in.
The operating-case, with its knives, came in for its share of
scrutiny, and I felt that an explanation was due the men. To tell
the truth, I had forgotten all about the case. Perhaps I swaggered
just a bit as I went over to wash my hands. It was my first
opportunity, and I was young, and the Girl was there.
"I see you looking at my case, boys," I said. "Perhaps I'm a little
late explaining, but I guess after what you've seen you'll understand.
The case belonged to my grandfather, who was a surgeon. He was in
the war. That case was at Gettysburg."
"And because of your grandfather you brought it on shipboard!" Clarke
said nastily.
"No. I'm a cub doctor myself. I'd been sick, and I needed the sea
and a rest."
They were not so impressed as I had expected--or perhaps they had
known all along. Sailors are a secretive lot.
"I'm thinking we'll all be getting a rest soon," a voice said. "What
are you going to do with them knives?"
I had an inspiration. "I'm going to leave that to you men," I said.
"You may throw them overboard, if you wish--but, if you do, take
out the needles and the silk; we may need them."
There followed a savage but restrained argument among the men.
Jones, from the tent, called out irritably:-"Don't be fools, you fellows. This happened while Leslie was asleep.
I'll swear he never moved after he lay down."
The crew reached a decision shortly after that, and came to me in
a body.
"We think," Oleson said, "that we'll lock them in the captain's
cabin, with the axe."
"Very well," I said. "Burns has the key around his neck."
Clarke, I think it was, went into the tent, and came out again
directly.
"There's no key around his neck," he said gruffly.
"It may have slipped around under his back."
"It isn't there at all."
I ran into the tent, where Jones, having exhausted the resources of
the injured man's clothing, was searching among the blankets on which
he lay. There was no key. I went out to the men again, bewildered.
The dawn had come, a pink and rosy dawn that promised another
stifling day. It revealed the disarray of the deck--he basins, the
old mahogany amputating-case with its lock plate of bone, the stained
and reddened towels; and it showed the brooding and overcast faces of
the men.
"Isn't it there?" I asked. "Our agreement was for me to carry the
key to Singleton's cabin and Burns the captain's."
Miss Lee, by the rail, came forward slowly, and looked up at me.