"Well, I was quick: and Santa was quick, too--tearing in strips the
damp pillow-case on which her head rested of nights when it wasn't
resting against Farrell's shoulder. (But not _this_ night, I thought
as I worked--not this blessed night just passed!) With the
pillow-case and the very spike that had done the mischief I made a
good firm tourniquet and saved Martinez's life for the time.
"But he had lost a lot of blood. All the drinking water awash in the
boat was foul with it, and this bloodied flood was running, as the
boat rocked, in and out among our small bags of pork and ship-bread.
My job ended, I looked aft. Farrell was leaning over the gunwale in
uncontrollable nausea. The face of Prout at the tiller, was dogged
but inexpressive. Grimalson stood like a man dazed.
"'Will he live?' he asked, his eyes meeting mine. 'Of course I never
intended--'
"'It wasn't a very pretty thing to do, was it?' I answered quietly.
"'Well, this settles it,' said he, staring down at the water.
'We must clean out this filthy mess and overhaul the stores.
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