While the frigate sailed on, the crew were repairing as far as possible
the damages she had received; for at that season of the year it was
probable that another gale might spring up, which she was as yet
ill-prepared to encounter. The men were nearly dropping with fatigue,
but they worked on bravely, as true-hearted seamen always do work when
necessity demands their exertions.

Meantime Paul was summoned below. The midshipmen who were not required
on deck were again assembled in the berth; but the places of several
were vacant. They were eating a hurried meal which Paul had placed on
the table, and discussing the events of the fight. One or two of the
youngsters were rather graver than usual, but Paul thought that the rest
took matters with wonderful indifference. He was anxious to know what
had happened to Devereux, whom he had seen carried below badly wounded.
Nobody mentioned him; perhaps he was dead; and he did not feel sorry at
the thought. After a time, though, he had some compunctions of
conscience. He was thinking that he would find his way towards the sick
bay, where the wounded midshipmen and other junior officers were placed,
when one of the assistant-surgeons came towards the berth.

"Here, boy Gerrard, I can trust you, I think," he exclaimed. "I want
you to stay by Mr Devereux, and to keep continually moistening his
lips, fomenting his wound as I shall direct. He is very feverish, and
his life may depend on your attention."

Paul felt as he had never felt before, proud and happy at being thus
spoken to, and selected by the surgeon to perform a responsible office,
even though it was for one whom he had taught himself to look upon in
the light of an enemy. He was soon by the side of the sufferer. The
sight which met his eyes was sufficient to disarm all hostility. The
young midshipman, lately so joyous, with the flush of health on his
cheeks, lay pale as death, groaning piteously; his side had been torn
open, and a splinter had taken part of the scalp from his head. The
assistant-surgeon showed him what to do, and then hurried away, for he
had many wounded to attend to, as the chief surgeon had been killed by a
shot which came through one of the lower ports.

Gerrard felt greatly touched at Devereux's sufferings. "Poor fellow! he
cannot possibly live with those dreadful wounds, and yet I am sure when
the fight began that he had not an idea that he was to be killed, or
even hurt," he said