Just then came up one of the sanitary nurses with some cooling drink, and fresh, wet bandages for the fevered stumps.
Great drops were standing on Bertie's forehead, and ominous gray shadows had already settled about the mouth, and under the long, shut lashes.
Looking at the face, so young, so refined, some mother's pride and darling, the nurse brushed back tenderly the fair hair, murmuring, "Poor fellow!" 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.