Somehow,
it was delightful to hear those words from such a man in the hour of
his supremest trial. For she realized what it meant to him, even
though his life were saved, if the _Kansas_ became a wreck.
She stooped, ostensibly to grasp the dog's collar.
"Before you leave me," she said, "let me tell you how sorry I am for
you."
He ran down the stairs, and entered the small saloon, which had been
hastily converted into a hospital. Perhaps it would be better
described as a mortuary, for it held more dead than living.
Christobal, aided by two sailors, was wrapping lint round a fireman's
seared arm. Happily, there was an abundance of cotton sheets
available, and the men tore them into strips. But the comparatively
small supply of cotton wool carried in the ship's stores, and in the
doctor's private medicine chest had long since given out.
"Miss Maxwell is here. She asked me to bring her to you in case she
might be able to render you some assistance," explained Courtenay.
Christobal drew himself upright, with the slowness of an elderly man
whose joints are stiffening.
"Miss Maxwell here?" he repeated, obviously surprised, if not
displeased.
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