For the same reason no chap--as Knowles
remarked--could "drive in a nail to hang his few poor rags upon,"
without being made aware of the enormity he committed in disturbing
Jimmy's interminable last moments. At night, instead of the cheerful
yell, "One bell! Turn out! Do you hear there? Hey! hey! hey! Show leg!"
the watches were called man by man, in whispers, so as not to interfere
with Jimmy's, possibly, last slumber on earth. True, he was always
awake, and managed, as we sneaked out on deck, to plant in our backs
some cutting remark that, for the moment, made us feel as if we had
been brutes, and afterwards made us suspect ourselves of being fools. We
spoke in low tones within that fo'c'sle as though it had been a church.
We ate our meals in silence and dread, for Jimmy was capricious with his
food, and railed bitterly at the salt meat, at the biscuits, at the tea,
as at articles unfit for human consumption--"let alone for a dying man!"
He would say:--"Can't you find a better slice of meat for a sick man
who's trying to get home to be cured--or buried? But there! If I had a
chance, you fellows would do away with it.
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