The eyes unclosed quickly:  “There are no poor fellows here, sir!” he said.

“Well, brave fellow, then!”

“I did but do my duty,”—­a smile breaking through the gathering mists.

Here some poor fellow,—­poor indeed,—­delirious with fever, called out, “Mother! mother!  I want to see my mother!”

Tears rushed to the clear, steady eyes, dimmed them, dropped down unchecked upon the face.  The nurse, with a sob choking in his throat, softly raised his hand to brush them away.  “Mother,” Bertie whispered,—­“mother!” and was gone where God wipes away the tears from all eyes.

For the space of five minutes, as Jim said afterwards, in telling about it, “that boat was like a meeting-house.”  Used as they were to death in all forms, more than one brave fellow’s eye was dim as the silent shape was carried away to make place for the stricken living,—­one of whom was directly brought in, and the stretcher put down near Jim.

“What’s up?” he called, for the man’s face was turned from him, and his wounded body so covered as to give no clew to its condition.  “What’s wrong?” seeing the bearers did not offer to lift him, and that they were anxiously scanning the long rows of berths.

“Berth’s wrong,” one of them answered.

“What’s the matter with the berth?”

“Matter enough! not a middle one nor a lower one empty.”

“Well,” called a wounded boy from the third tier, “plenty of room up here; sky-parlor,—­airy lodgings,—­all fine,—­I see a lot of empty houses that’ll take him in.”

“Like enough,—­but he’s about blown to pieces,” said the bearer in a low voice, “and it’ll be aw—­ful putting him up there; however,”—­commencing to take off the light cover.

“Helloa!” cried Jim, “that’s a dilapidated-looking leg,”—­his head out, looking at it.  “Stop a bit!”—­body half after the head,—­“you just stop that, and come here and catch hold of a fellow; now put me up there.  I reckon I’ll bear hoisting better’n he will, anyway.  Ugh! ah! um! owh! here we are! bully!”

If Jim had been of the fainting or praying order he would certainly have fainted or prayed; as it was, he said “Bully!” but lay for a while thereafter still as a mouse.

“Given, you’re a brick!” one of the boys was apostrophizing him.  Jim took no notice.  “And your man’s in, safe and sound”; he turned at that, and leaned forward, as well as he could, to look at the occupant of his late bed.

“Jemime!” he cried, when he saw the face.  “I say, boys! it’s Ercildoune—­Robert—­flag—­Wagner—­hurray—­let’s give three cheers for the color-sergeant,—­long may he wave!”

The men, propped up or lying down, gave the three cheers with a will, and then three more; and then, delighted with their performance, three more after that, Jim winding up the whole with an “a-a-ah,—­Tiger!” that made them all laugh; then relapsing into silence and a hard battle with pain.