Tommy, the first captain, made a gesture as if brushing something from his breast, and then leaped to the injured man's assistance.
"It was a piece of shell," cried "Stump." "It came through the port." There was temporary confusion.

The surgeon and his assistants came on a run, but before they could reach the spot, Kennedy recovered and advanced to meet them.

He presented a horrible spectacle, with his face and neck and body spattered with blood, and we who were nearest saw that he had been frightfully wounded in the left shoulder.
Notwithstanding that fact, he remained cool and steady, and never made the slightest indication that he was suffering.

When he finally disappeared down the berth-deck ladder we exchanged glances of surprise and sympathy.
"That isn't Kennedy," murmured "Stump," softly.
"We didn't know him after all," said "Hay." "Poor devil! I hope he isn't badly injured." "He has been in the hardest kind of luck since we left New York," spoke up Tommy.

"Seasick half the time, always in trouble, and bucking against homesickness and everything else.