"In a small bay on the east of Hanover Island. I have not taken any
observations yet, and there is no hurry, old chap. You 'll be out and
about long before we move again."
"Huh. D'ye think so? I know the beggar who knifed me. I 'll take it
out of him when I see him."
"You are better off than he, Boyle. Unless he is here with you, I
guess he is rolling on the floor of the Pacific by this time."
Boyle tried to turn and survey his fellow-sufferers; there was the fire
of battle in his eye. Courtenay restrained him with a laugh.
"A nice thing I am doing," he cried, "permitting you to talk, and
getting you excited. I believe you would punch the scoundrel now if he
were in the next berth. You must lie quiet, old man; doctor's orders;
he says you 're on the royal road if you keep on the easy list for a
day or so."' Boyle smiled, and closed his eyes.
"I heard the anchors go, and then I knew that all was well. You 're
the luckiest skipper afloat. Huh, the bloomin' Kansas was lost not
once but twenty times."
"Are you in pain, Boyle?" asked Courtenay, placing a gentle hand on his
friend's forehead.
"Not much. More stiff than sore. It was a knock-out blow of its kind.
I can just recall you hauling me out of the scrimmage, and--"
"It will be your turn to do as much for me next time. Try to go to
sleep; we'll have you on deck tomorrow."
Courtenay noticed that there were only four other sufferers in the
saloon: Three were firemen injured by the explosion. He had a pleasant
word for each of them. The fourth was a sailor, either asleep or
unconscious, and Courtenay thought he recognized a severe bruise on the
man's left temple where the butt of his revolver had struck hard.
When he returned on deck he learned that two other members of the crew,
in addition to the cook, were able to work. Walker had set one to
clear up the stokehold; his companion, a fireman, had relieved Mr.
Tollemache. Indeed, the latter had gone to his cabin, and was the last
to arrive at the feast, finally putting in an appearance in a new suit
and spotless linen.
Christobal protested loudly.
"I thought this was to be a workers' meal," he said. "Tollemache has
stolen a march on us. He is quite a Bond-street lounger in appearance."
"Dirty job, stoking," said Tollemache.
"I seem to have been the only lazy person on board during the night,"
cried Elsie.
"Do you know what time it is?" asked Courtenay.
"No; about ten o'clock, I fancy."