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.--"He lies," gasped Wait, "he talked about
black devils--he is a devil--a white devil--I am all right." He stiffened
himself, and Mr. Baker, experimentally, let him go. He staggered a pace
or two; Captain Allistoun watched him with a quiet and penetrating gaze;
Belfast ran to his support. He did not appear to be aware of any one
near him; he stood silent for a moment, battling single-handed with a
legion of nameless terrors, amidst the eager looks of excited men who
watched him far off, utterly alone in the impenetrable solitude of his
fear. The sea gurgled through the scuppers as the ship heeled over to a
short puff of wind.

"Keep him away from me," said James Wait at last in his fine baritone
voice, and leaning with all his weight on Belfast's neck. "I've been
better this last week:... I am well... I was going back to duty...
to-morrow--now if you like--Captain." Belfast hitched his shoulders to
keep him upright.

"No," said the master, looking at him, fixedly. Under Jimmy's armpit
Belfast's red face moved uneasily. A row of eyes gleaming stared on the
edge of light. They pushed one another with elbows, turned their heads,
whispered. Wait let his chin fall on his breast and, with lowered
eyelids, looked round in a suspicious manner.

"Why not?" cried a voice from the shadows, "the man's all right, sir."

"I am all right," said Wait, with eagerness. "Been sick... better...
turn-to now." He sighed.--"Howly Mot