No man could be suspected of such monstrous friendship! Was
he a reality--or was he a sham--this ever-expected visitor of Jimmy's?
We hesitated between pity and mistrust, while, on the slightest
provocation, he shook before our eyes the bones of his bothersome and
infamous skeleton. He was for ever trotting him out. He would talk of
that coming death as though it had been already there, as if it had been
walking the deck outside, as if it would presently come in to sleep
in the only empty bunk; as if it had sat by his side at every meal.
It interfered daily with our occupations, with our leisure, with our
amusements. We had no songs and no music in the evening, because
Jimmy (we all lovingly called him Jimmy, to conceal our hate of his
accomplice) had managed, with that prospective decease of his, to
disturb even Archie's mental balance. Archie was the owner of the
concertina; but after a couple of stinging lectures from Jimmy he
refused to play any more. He said:--"Yon's an uncanny joker. I dinna ken
what's wrang wi' him, but there's something verra wrang, verra wrang.
It's nae manner of use asking me. I won't play." Our singers became mute
because Jimmy was a dying man.
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