.. before my eyes... as good as dead
already."--"Help!" shouted Jimmy, piercingly.--"Not in this valley....
look upwards," howled the other.--"Go away! Murder! Help!" clamoured
Jimmy. His voice broke. There were moanings, low mutters, a few sobs.
"What's the matter now?" said a seldom-heard voice.--"Fall back,
men! Fall back, there!" repeated Mr. Creighton, sternly, pushing
through.--"Here's the old man," whispered some.--"The cook's in there,
sir," exclaimed several, backing away. The door clattered open; a broad
stream of light darted out on wondering faces; a warm whiff of vitiated
air passed. The two mates towered head and shoulders above the spare,
grey-haired man who stood revealed between them, in shabby clothes,
stiff and angular, like a small carved figure, and with a thin, composed
face. The cook got up from his knees. Jimmy sat high in the bunk,
clasping his drawn-up legs. The tassel of the blue night-cap almost
imperceptibly trembled over his knees. They gazed astonished at his
long, curved back, while the white corner of one eye gleamed blindly
at them. He was afraid to turn his head, he shrank within himself; and
there was an aspect astounding and animal-like in the perfection of his
expectant immobility.
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