l of the
crew engaged in bandaging each other's wounds, and, from the clumsy way
in which they went to work, it was very clear that they were much more
accustomed to inflict wounds than to bandage them.

Now it must be told that, although George Foster was not a surgeon, he
had an elder brother who was, and with whom he had associated constantly
while he was studying and practising for his degree; hence he became
acquainted with many useful facts and modes of action connected with the
healing art, of which the world at large is ignorant. Perceiving that
one of the pirates was bungling a very simple operation, he stepped
forward, and, with that assurance which results naturally from the
combination of conscious power and "cheek," took up the dressing of the
wound.

At first the men seemed inclined to resent the interference, but when
they saw that the "Christian" knew what he was about, and observed how
well and swiftly he did the work, they stood aside and calmly submitted.

Foster was interrupted, however, in the midst of his philanthropic work
by Peter the Great, who came forward and touched him on the shoulder.

"Sorry to 't'rupt you, sar, but you come wid me."

"Mayn't I finish this operation first?" said Foster, looking up.

"No, sar. My orders is prumptory."

Our amateur surgeon dropped the bandage indignantly and followed the
negro, who led him down into the hold, at the further and dark end of
which he saw several wounded men lying, and beside them one or two whose
motionless and straightened figures seemed to indicate that death had
relieved them from earthly troubles.

Amongst these men he spent the night and all next day, with only a
couple of biscuits and a mug of water to sustain him. Next evening
Peter the Great came down and bade him follow him to the other end of
the hold.

"Now, sar, you go in dere," said the negro, stopping and pointing to a
small door in the bulkhead, inside of which was profound darkness.

Foster hesitated and looked at his big conductor.

"'Bey orders, sar!" said the negro, in a loud, stern voice of command.
Then, stooping as if to open the little door, he added, in a low voice,
"Don' be a fool, massa. _Submit_! Das de word, if you don' want a
whackin'. It's a friend advises you. Dere's one oder prisoner dere,
but he's wounded, an' won't hurt you. _Go_ in! won't you?"

Peter the Great accompanied the last words with a violent thrust that
sent the hapless middy