Adam was scarcely dressed next morning when came little Smidge, still heavily armed, to salute smartly, saying:
"Begs to report, Cap'n, as they two rogues wot you fought and wounded, sir, is come aft for treatment as ordered."
"Very well, Smidge. Bid Jimbo bring bowl of warm water and the medicine chest, then admit our patients and stand by to see what I do, for I would have you able to treat a wound, set a bandage and do a little rough surgery anon, Smidge."
"Ay ay, sir. Though I'd rather fight like a seadog should ought for to do, Cap'n Adam."
"Why, so you shall—if needful. Though 'tis better to heal a man than harm him."
"And you do bofe, sir, so I'll try bofe too."
"Then first lay by your great sword and hurry."
Thus presently in came these two of Adam's wolves now looking very sheepish because little Smidge had each by an arm, leading them into this splendid cabin to front this small, very masterful captain, who surveyed them with such keen scrutiny and whose movements were so quick and light as he removed coat and rolled up snowy shirt-sleeves.
"Thomas Ash, step forrard!"
"Ay ay, sir!" says maimed Ferocity No. 1, in groaning voice, yet obeying smartly, none the less. "Pain be powerful sharp, sir. Oh very bad it be, sir."
"Ha!" says Adam, knitting black brows and smoothing white hair. "Pain is ofttimes a powerful deterrent, Thomas, and sometimes a stimulant to better things. Doff his bandage, Smidge, and easy now!"
"Ay ay, sir!" pipes the boy. "But, please, how'll I come at him and him so high up above me?"
"He shall come down to you. Kneel, Thomas!"
The man hesitates, glances sideways at scowling Ferocity No. 2, looks at Adam and obeys. So, while this burly fellow kneels that the boy may bare his wound, Adam selects divers lotions and salves from the medicine chest and Ferocity No. 2, this great, red-headed fellow, tall nearly as Jimbo, looks on 'neath lowering brows and clenches his big fists,—in which moment Adam speaks though seeming not to look up from the bandage he is preparing.
"Well?" he demanded, sharply. "Why d'ye scowl and clench fist. No matter! What's your name?"
"Tregenza."
"Tom, Dick, or Harry?"
"Neither. It's Giles,—as ye might ha' known on that cursed galley, you heard it oft enough. Ay, and you doctored the fetter-galls on my wrist."
"So I did to many others, Tregenza, my own included."
"And," snarled Tregenza, "I don't kneel to any man, no nor boy—not I!"
"Then ye may go!" said Adam. "You have no doctoring from me."
"You!" cried Tregenza. "You poor, little half-man! I could snap ye across my knee, ay—choke the life out o' your pitiful carcass with my bare hands!"
Adam, still busy, troubled to glance up at the speaker and shook his head.
"Oh no!" said he, gently.
"Ha,—what d'ye mean, little man?"
"That you'd die too soon."
"Die? Who—me?" sneered this big man. "And by such puny wretch as you? Ay, you'd call your fellows and have me shot down, murdered, for sure."
"This moment, if need be!" nodded Adam. "Look yonder!"
Tregenza looked, Adam leapt, his sinewy fist smote up hard beneath the big man's ear, his dexterous foot tripped him, and Ferocity No. 2 thudded full length on the rich carpeting, made to rise and was checked by the knife-point that menaced him.
"Kneel!" said Adam, standing above him.
Tregenza, making as if to obey, flashed out his own knife instead, took the toe of Adam's shoe beneath his chin, groaned, dropped the knife, sank down again and so lay mute and still.
"Now," said Adam, breathing short, "off with his bandages, Smidge, whiles I tend Ash." But the boy stood motionless, staring on this great fellow struck down in his strength and so terribly, until Adam laughed, saying:
"You're not afeard o' the brute now, are you, old sea-dog?"
"N-no, sir!" gasped Smidge. "No, I ain't afeard o' nobody nor nothing ... not when I'm along o' you, Cap'n, sir."
"Why, very well!" nodded Adam, turning to Ferocity No. 1. "Now let's 'tend to you, Thomas."
"Ay ay, sir, ay ay, but—not like you just tended to Giles there, Cap'n! Oh, not that way, Cap'n."
"Tush man! Sit you in this chair. Well now, here's pretty scar as does us both credit, Thomas! You're healing apace. Had you been an evil liver alongshore, here would have been pus and inflammation. Life aboard yon galleasse hath its compensations truly and despite whip and manacles! Your blood is become sweet, Thomas, and pure as a clean boy's. There now! Hold this pad—so, whiles I fetch a turn about it with the bandage."
"But, Cap'n, blast my eyes, sir, and axing your pardin, but you ... you hain't been and gone and ... killed pore Giles, 'ave ye, sir?"