edges of the plates
back."

"My God! horrible, horrible!" ejaculated the skipper, terribly upset and
concerned. "Poor fellows; Jackson, too, was the best hand Stokes had
below!"

"Aye, sir, and as good a mechanic, too, I've heard them say, as any of
the engineers," agreed Mr Fosset, with equal feeling. "But, sir, I'm
losing time talking like this! I only came up for assistance for the
poor fellows and the others who are wounded. Where's Garry O'Neil?"

"Why, he was here under the bridge a moment ago," cried the skipper
eagerly. "Hullo, O'Neil? Pass the word up, men, for Mr O'Neil. He's
wanted at once! Sharp, look alive!"

Our second officer, it should be explained, was not only a sailor but a
surgeon as well. He had run away to sea as a boy, and, after working
his way up before the mast until he had acquired sufficient seamanship
to obtain a mate's certificate, he had, at his mother's entreaty, she
having a holy horror of salt water, abandoned his native element and
studied for the medical profession at Trinity College, Dublin. Here,
after four years' practice in walking the hospitals, he graduated with
full honours, much to his mother's delight. The old lady, however,
dying some little time after, he, feeling no longer bound by any tie at
home, and having indeed sacrificed his own wishes for her sake,
incontinently gave up his newly-fledged dignity of "Doctor" Garry
O'Neil, returning to his old love and embracing once more a sea-faring
life, which he has stuck to ever since. He had sailed with us in the
_Star of the North_ now for over a twelvemonth, in the first instance as
third officer and for the last two voyages as second mate, the fact of
his being a qualified surgeon standing him in good stead and making him
even a more important personage on board than his position warranted,
cargo steamers not being in the habit of carrying a medical man like
passenger ships, and sailorly qualities and surgical skill
interchangeable characteristics!

Hitherto we had been fortunate enough to have no necessity for availing
ourselves of his professional services, but now they came in handy
enough in good sooth.

"Mr O'Neil?" sang out the men on the lower deck, passing on his name in
obedience to the skipper's orders from hand to hand, till the hail
reached the after hatchway, down which Spokeshave roared with all the
power of his lungs, being anxious on his own account to be heard and so
released from his watc