fastened under his arms. He was dead.

"I'm out," said the surgeon briefly, and stood with mouth agape. Never
had the disciplined _Wolverines_ performed a sea duty with so ragged
a routine as the getting in of the boat containing the live man and the
dead body. The dead seaman was reverently disposed and covered. As to the
survivor there was some hesitancy on the part of the captain, who was
inclined to send him forward until Dr. Trendon, after a swift scrutiny,
suggested that for the present, at least, he be berthed aft. They took
the stranger to Edwards's vacant room, where Trendon was closeted with
him for half an hour. When he emerged he was beset with questions.

"Can't give any account of himself yet," said the surgeon. "Weak and not
rightly conscious."

"What ails him?"

"Enough. Gash in his scalp. Fever. Thirst and exhaustion. Nervous shock,
too, I think."

"How came he aboard the _Laughing Lass_?" "Does he know anything of
Billy?" "Was he a stow-away?" "Did you ask him about Ives and McGuire?"
"How came he in the small boat?" "Where are the rest?"

"Now, now," said the veteran chidingly. "How can I tell? Would you have
me kill the man with questions?"

He left them to look at the body of the bo's'n's mate. Not a word had he
to say when he returned. Only the captain got anything out of him but
growling and unintelligible expressions, which seemed to be objurgatory