CHAPTER III
THE BLACK SPOT
About noon I stopped at the captain's door with some cooling drinks and medicines. He was lying very much as we had left him, only a little higher, and he seemed both weak and excited.
"Jim," he said, "you're the only one here that's worth anything; and you know I've always been good to you. Never a month but I've given you a silver fourpenny for yourself. And now you see, mate, I'm pretty low, and deserted by all; and Jim, you'll bring me one noggin1 of rum, now won't you, matey?"'
"The doctor—" I began.
But he broke in cursing the doctor, in a feeble voice, but heartily. "Doctors is all swabs," he said; "and that doctor there, why, what do he know about seafaring men? I been in places hot as pitch, and mates dropping round with yellow jack,2 and the blessed land a-heaving like the sea with earthquakes—what do the doctor know of lands like that?—and I lived on rum, I tell you. It's been meat and drink, and man and wife, to me; and if Iam not to have my rum now I'm a poor old hulk3 on a lee 4 shore. My blood 'll be on you, Jim, and that doctor swab," and he ran on again for awhile with curses. "Look, Jim, how my fingers fidges,5 he
47
