Part 27 (2/2)
Faithful, intelligent; you know your business. H-m! Here--here's a five spot”--he slipped the money into Sloan's hand--”and you shall have more when we touch port. Now this message, my lad--you couldn't have made any mistake in receiving it? You couldn't have twisted any of the words a little?”
”No mistake, I'm sure, sir. It was repeated twice.”
”That makes it certain, then--certain,” muttered Henshaw. ”That is all, Sloan.”
As the latter left the cabin, the old captain went back to his chair and sat with the paper resting upon his knee, as if a little delay might change its import.
”I am growing old, McTee,” he said at last, apologetically, ”and age affects the eyes first of all. Suppose you take this message, eh? And read it through to me--slowly--I hate fast reading, McTee.”
The big Scotchman took the slip of paper and read with a long pause between each word:
_Beatrice--failing--rapidly--hemorrhage--this--morning--very--weak._
The paper was s.n.a.t.c.hed from his hand, and Henshaw repeated the words over and over to himself: ”Weak--failing--hemorrhage--the fools! A little bleeding at the nose they call a hemorrhage!”
McTee broke in: ”A good many doctors are apt to make a case seem more serious than it is. They get more credit that way for the cure, eh?”
”G.o.d bless you, lad! Aye, they're a lot of d.a.m.nable curs! Burning at sea--death by fire at sea! He was right! The old devil was right! Look, McTee! I'm safe on my s.h.i.+p; I'm rich; but still I'm burning to death in the middle of the ocean.”
He shook the Scotchman by his ma.s.sive shoulder.
”Go get Sloan--bring him here!”
McTee rose.
”No! Don't let me lay eyes on him--he brought me this! Go yourself and carry him a message to send. The doctors are letting her die; they think she has no money. Send them this message:
”_Save Beatrice at all costs. Call in the greatest doctors. I will pay all bills ten times over._
”Quick! Why are you waiting here? You fool! Run! Minutes mean life or death to her!”
McTee hastened back to the wireless house in the after-part of the s.h.i.+p. To Sloan he gave the message, even exaggerating it somewhat.
After it was sent, he said: ”Look here, my boy, do you realize that it's dangerous to bring the captain messages like that last one you carried to him?”
”Do I know it? I should say I do! Once the old boy jumped at me like a tiger because I carried in a bad report.”
”Could you make up a false message?”
”It's against the law, sir.”
”It's not against the law to keep a man from going crazy.”
”Crazy?”
”I mean what I say. Henshaw is balancing on the ragged edge of insanity. Mark my words! If the news comes of his granddaughter's death, he'll fall on the other side. Why can't you give him some hope in the meantime? Suppose you work up something this afternoon like this: 'Beatrice rallying rapidly. Doctor's much more hopeful.' What do you say?”
”Crazy!” repeated the wireless operator, fascinated. ”If the old man loses his reason, we're all in danger.”
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