Donkin
officiated. He had the air of a demonstrator showing a phenomenon, a
manifestation bizarre, simple, and meritorious that, to the beholders,
should be a profound and an everlasting lesson. "Just look at 'im, 'ee
knows what's what--never fear!" he exclaimed now and then, flourishing
a hand hard and fleshless like the claw of a snipe. Jimmy, on his back,
smiled with reserve and without moving a limb. He affected the languor
of extreme weakness, so as to make it manifest to us that our delay in
hauling him out from his horrible confinement, and then that night spent
on the poop among our selfish neglect of his needs, had "done for
him." He rather liked to talk about it, and of course we were always
interested. He spoke spasmodically, in fast rushes with long pauses
between, as a tipsy man walks.... "Cook had just given me a pannikin
of hot coffee.... Slapped it down there, on my chest--banged the door
to.... I felt a heavy roll coming; tried to save my coffee, burnt my
fingers... and fell out of my bunk.... She went over so quick.... Water
came in through the ventilator.... I couldn't move the door... dark as a
grave.
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