A thing of instinct--the unthinking stillness of a
scared brute. "What are you doing here?" asked Mr. Baker, sharply.--"My
duty," said the cook, with ardour.--"Your... what?" began the mate.
Captain Allistoun touched his arm lightly.--"I know his caper," he said,
in a low voice. "Come out of that, Podmore," he ordered, aloud.
The cook wrung his hands, shook his fists above his head, and his
arms dropped as if too heavy. For a moment he stood distracted and
speechless.--"Never," he stammered, "I... he I."--
"What--do--you--say?" pronounced Captain Allistoun. "Come out at
once--or..."--"I am going," said the cook, with a hasty and sombre
resignation. He strode over the doorstep firmly--hesitated--made a few
steps. They looked at him in silence.--"I make you responsible!" he
cried, desperately, turning half round. "That man is dying. I make you..
"--"You there yet?" called the master in a threatening tone.--"No, sir,"
he exclaimed, hurriedly, in a startled voice. The boatswain led him
away by the arm; some one laughed; Jimmy lifted his head for a stealthy
glance, and in one unexpected leap sprang out of his bunk; Mr. Baker
made a clever catch and felt him very limp in his arms; the group at the
door grunted with surprise.
Pages:
166
167
168
169
170
171
172
173
174
175
176
177
178
179
180
181
182
183
184
185
186
187
188
189
190