Belfast fumbled about his feet, repeating with
emotion:--"Yes. We know. Ye are bad, but.... Just say what ye want done,
and.... We all know ye are bad--very bad...." No! Decidedly James Wait
was not touched or repentant. Truth to say, he seemed rather startled.
He sat up with incredible suddenness and ease. "Ah! You think I am bad,
do you?" he said gloomily, in his clearest baritone voice (to hear him
speak sometimes you would never think there was anything wrong with that
man). "Do you?... Well, act according! Some of you haven't sense enough
to put a blanket shipshape over a sick man. There! Leave it alone! I
can die anyhow!" Belfast turned away limply with a gesture of
discouragement. In the silence of the forecastle, full of interested
men, Donkin pronounced distinctly:--"Well, I'm blowed!" and sniggered.
Wait looked at him. He looked at him in a quite friendly manner. Nobody
could tell what would please our incomprehensible invalid: but for us
the scorn of that snigger was hard to bear.
Donkin's position in the forecastle was distinguished but unsafe. He
stood on the bad eminence of a general dislike. He was left alone; and
in his isolation he could do nothing but think of the gales of the
Cape of Good Hope and envy us the possession of warm clothing and
waterproofs.
Pages:
52
53
54
55
56
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76