The circle broke
up. The joy of laughter died on stiffened lips. There was not a smile
left among all the ship's company. Not a word was spoken. Many turned
their backs, trying to look unconcerned; others, with averted heads,
sent half-reluctant glances out of the corners of their eyes. They
resembled criminals conscious of misdeeds more than honest men
distracted by doubt; only two or three stared frankly, but stupidly,
with lips slightly open. All expected James Wait to say something, and,
at the same time, had the air of knowing beforehand what he would say.
He leaned his back against the doorpost, and with heavy eyes swept over
them a glance domineering and pained, like a sick tyrant overawing a
crowd of abject but untrustworthy slaves.
No one went away. They waited in fascinated dread. He said ironically,
with gasps between the words:--
"Thank you... chaps. You... are nice... and... quiet... you are! Yelling
so... before... the door...."
He made a longer pause, during which he worked his ribs in an
exaggerated labour of breathing. It was intolerable. Feet were shuffled.
Belfast let out a groan; but Donkin above blinked his red eyelids with
invisible eyelashes, and smiled bitterly over the nigger's head.
Pages:
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69