d; others dived head first
inside lower bunks--swift, and turning round instantly upon themselves,
like animals going into lairs. The grating of a knife scraping burnt
clay was heard. Knowles grinned no more. Davis said, in a tone of ardent
conviction: "Then our skipper's looney." Archie muttered: "My faith!
we haven't heard the last of it yet!" Four bells were struck.--"Half our
watch below gone!" cried Knowles in alarm, then reflected. "Well, two
hours' sleep is something towards a rest," he observed, consolingly.
Some already pretended to slumber; and Charley, sound asleep, suddenly
said a few slurred words in an arbitrary, blank voice.--"This blamed
boy has worrums!" commented Knowles from under a blanket, in a learned
manner. Belfast got up and approached Archie's berth.--"We pulled
him out," he whispered, sadly.--"What?" said the other, with sleepy
discontent.--"And now we will have to chuck him overboard," went on
Belfast, whose lower lip trembled.--"Chuck what?" asked Archie.--"Poor
Jimmy," breathed out Belfast.--"He be blowed!" said Archie with
untruthful brutality, and sat up in his bunk; "It's all through him.
If it hadn't been for me, there would have been murder on board this
ship!"--"'Tain't his fault, is it?" argued Belfast, in a murmur; "I've
put him to bed... an' he ain't no heavier than an empty beef-cask,"
he added, with tears in his eyes. Archie looked at him steadily, then
turned his nose to the ship's side with determination. Belfast wandered
about as though he had lost his way in the dim forecastle, and nearly
fell over Donkin. He contemplated him from on high for a while. "Ain't
ye going to turn in?" he asked. Donkin looked up hopelessly.--"That
black'earted Scotch son of a thief kicked me!" he whispered from the
floor, in a tone of utter desolation.--"And a good job, too!" said
Belfast, still very depressed; "You were as near hanging as damn-it
to-night, sonny. Don't you play any of your murthering games around my
Jimmy! You haven't pulled him out. You just mind! 'Cos if I start to
kick you"--he brightened up a bit--"if I start to kick you, it will be
Yankee fashion--to break something!" He tapped lightly with his knuckles
the top of the bowed head. "You moind that, my bhoy!" he concluded,
cheerily. Donkin let it pass.--"Will they split on me?" he asked, with
pained anxiety.--"Who--split?" hissed Belfast, coming back a step. "I
would split your nose this minyt if I hadn't Jimmy to look after! Who