You would poison me. Look
at what you have given me!" We served him in his bed with rage and
humility, as though we had been the base courtiers of a hated prince;
and he rewarded us by his unconciliating criticism. He had found the
secret of keeping for ever on the run the fundamental imbecility of
mankind; he had the secret of life, that confounded dying man, and he
made himself master of every moment of our existence. We grew desperate,
and remained submissive. Emotional little Belfast was for ever on the
verge of assault or on the verge of tears. One evening he confided to
Archie:--"For a ha'penny I would knock his ugly black head off--the
skulking dodger!" And the straightforward Archie pretended to be
shocked! Such was the infernal spell which that casual St. Kitt's nigger
had cast upon our guileless manhood! But the same night Belfast stole
from the galley the officers' Sunday fruit pie, to tempt the fastidious
appetite of Jimmy. He endangered not only his long friendship with
the cook but also--as it appeared--his eternal welfare. The cook was
overwhelmed with grief; he did not know the culprit but he knew that
wickedness flourished; he knew that Satan was abroad amongst those men,
whom he looked upon as in some way under his spiritual care.
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