Dr. MacKay lifted his voice so that all could hear, speaking in Chinese.
"Friends," he said, "the physician of whom I told you has come. Listen to him. Submit to his treatment. Do what he tells you. He will heal you. He will give you your lives again."
At the sound of his voice all other voices were hushed. Thin brown forms turned painfully on the bare boards; rows of black heads were raised from the hard bolsters; black eyes looked out of bronze or ghastly yellow faces at the fair giant who towered above the black-bearded missionary; from lip to lip the word passed down the lines:
"I-seng lâi![#] I-seng lâi!" (The doctor is come. Literally, the life-healer is come.)
Without a word Sinclair threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work. Sergeant Gorman and one of MacKay's students went first, preparing each case for treatment. Sinclair followed, with MacKay to assist and interpret and another student to carry basins of water.
[Illustration: Sinclair threw off his coat, rolled up his sleeves, and went to work]
The wounds were nearly all caused by shells or shrapnel. There were no clean wounds by rifle bullets. The range had been too great and the Chinese too well protected behind their fortifications. The mitrailleuses had accomplished little. They were noisy, terrifying, spectacular, but ineffective. Only once had a machine gun done much execution. A part of the fortifications on the east side of the harbour had been rendered untenable by the heavy shell-fire. A body of Chinese regulars were retreating to the new fort in too close formation. The marines working a mitrailleuse in the _Villars'_ tops, found their range perfectly and poured a stream of bullets into their midst, killing many and threatening the whole detachment with extermination. But just at the critical moment the quick-firer jammed, and all the oaths and efforts of the squad could not get it into working order again until the Chinese were under cover.
The sights were all the more ghastly, the suffering the more intense, the prospects of recovery the fewer because the death-dealing had been done by shell and shrapnel. There was nothing clean-cut about their work. A fragment of shell had shorn away a man's left shoulder, taking with it the joint, but missing the axillary artery and part of the great breast muscle, by which the arm still hung.