"I wonder what that is," said I, in a mystified tone, thinking to humour him still more.
"I'll tell you," said he. "Just shunt a bit further along the yard."
"I shall be over in a minute," I cried, as he forced me and followed me with the naked carver.
"I know you will," he replied, "but not till I've done with you. To come to that second bone. You had a concert to-night, and you didn't ask me to do anything!"
My teeth chattered. We had never thought of him. I protested, and truly, that the fault was not mine alone; but he cut me short.
"How many concerts have you had without asking me to perform--me, the only man of you worth listening to--me, the star o' the ship? Tell me that, Brother John!"
"Then take that--and that--and that--and that!" And he pricked me in seven places with his infernal knife, holding it to my throat between the stabs in case I should sing out.
"Now," he said, "I'm going to give you a concert all to yourself. You're going to hear the star of the _Grasmere_ free of charge. But get you along to the point of the spar first; then you'll be all ready. What, you won't? Ah, I thought that'd make you!"
I had obeyed him. He had followed me. And now the knife was back in his mouth--the blood had caked upon his beard--and the melodeon was between his hands. He played me the "Dead March." I should not have known it, for I was past listening, but the horrid grin in his mad eyes showed me that he was doing something clever, and then I discovered what. I was now past everything but holding on and watching my man, which, as I have since thought, was better than looking down. He was wearing his beloved jersey, and he had it the right way on. Upon his legs were a pair of thick worsted drawers; but his feet were naked, and his head was bare. It was his head I watched. His hair had been cropped very close. And the stars swam round and round it as we rose and fell.
I heard four bells struck away aft in the abyss, heard their echo from the forecastle head. It was two o'clock in the morning. As we dipped to port, Clunie suddenly lifted his melodeon in both hands, and heaved it clean over my head.
"Hear the splash?" he hissed. "Well, there'll be a bigger one in a minute, and you'll hear that. You're going to make it, Brother John!"
