ot have been insensible many moments, for I was conscious of
shouting and trampling, of a thick black smoke which made it seem like
night, of voices giving orders, and Jarette yelling to his men now in
French, now in English, and all the time there was a crushing weight
across my legs and chest.

Then there were a couple of shots fired, and the shutting and banging of
doors; some one shrieked, and a man was thrown back over the mass which
held me down.

After that I must have been insensible again, for the next thing I
remember is hearing a groan, and directly after the voices of men
talking in a familiar way.

"That's it, lads; altogether, and out she comes."

I could see light now, for something was lifted off me, and I looked out
through a framework of shattered woodwork at the bright sunshine.

"Now then," said the same voice; "lift him out on to the deck."

It was Bob Hampton speaking, and it was Dumlow who spoke next in a low
growl.

"Poor lad; he's got it bad, arn't he?"

I thought in my half-stunned fashion that they were talking about me;
but they were lifting some one else, and just then Jarette came up. I
couldn't see him, but I could hear him blundering over the wreck around,
and his words plain enough as he said sharply--

"Dead? Overboard with him if he is."

"No, he arn't dead," said Bob Hampton. "Doctors don't die in a hurry.
He'll come to and cure hisself, I dessay. Come on, mate."

In a muddled, dreamy way I knew now that it was a doctor they were
carrying, and if it was a doctor I felt that it must be Mr Frewen; but
what it all meant, or why I was lying there, I could not tell in the
least.

There was half-darkness then for a little while, then light--then
darkness again, and some one was leaning over me.

"Steady, lad," was growled, and I knew it was Bob Hampton again, and I
tried to think and ask him what was the matter, but no words would come,
though everything was growing very clear now, and the men's words
bounded painfully sharp upon my ears.

"Got him?"

"Ay, ay."

"Heave then, together. No, hold hard; the corner of that portmanter's
over his hind leg. That's it; hyste it away."

I felt myself laid down while something was done close to me, and then I
was lifted once more and carried out into the warm sunshine, and laid
upon the hot boards of the deck.

"Poor laddie," growled Bob Hampton, "he's got it badly. Rum world this
here, Neb!"

"Orful," said Dumlow.