50 ALBACORA 



it went on — these terrible waves of agony radiating 

 from somewhere deep within my hip — but I think 

 it was forty-five minutes after I had fallen that I got 

 a hand up to the doorknob. I turned and twisted it and 

 the door swung open, dropping me back in a heap. I 

 had not screamed from any of the earlier pain but now, 

 with the door open, I stopped fighting. I yelled so that 

 my voice must have carried clear to the Humboldt 

 Current. Within seconds Walt Gorman was bending over 

 me, asking what was the matter. 



"My hip," I said. "I think I've broken it." 



"Wiggle your toes," Walt said. "Can you wiggle 

 your toes?" 



I tried. "Yes," I said. I made another test. "Yes, 

 Walt," I said, "and I can wiggle my kneecaps, too." 



Walt picked me up and put me on the soft bed I'd 

 been thinking about all that afternoon at sea. 



"I know I've cracked up something, Walt," I said. 

 "It hurts terribly." 



"There's a local doctor named Sirvasi," Walt said. 

 "I'll get him." 



I did not want to spend any more time alone. "Wait, 

 Walt," I said. "Where's everybody else?" 



"They'll all be along soon," he said. "I left the dock 

 quick after I oiled and gassed up the Explorer. I was 

 just going in to wash when I heard you." 



"I hope I can go out tomorrow," I said. I started to 

 get up. The pain came back again as strong as ever. 



