midnight
The closing allusion to Jackson in the chapter preceding , reminds me of a circumstance -- which , perhaps , should have been mentioned before -- that after we had been at sea about ten days , he pronounced himself too unwell to do duty , and accordingly went below to his bunk . And here , with the exception of a few brief intervals of sunning himself in fine weather , he remained on his back , or seated cross-legged , during the remainder of the homeward-bound passage . Brooding there , in his infernal gloom , though nothing but a castaway sailor in canvas trowsers , this man was still a picture , worthy to be painted by the dark , moody hand of Salvator . In any of that master 's lowering sea-pieces , representing the desolate crags of Calabria , with a midnight shipwreck in the distance , this Jackson 's would have been the face to paint for the doomed vessel 's figurehead , seamed and blasted by lightning . Though the more sneaking and cowardly of my shipmates whispered among themselves , that Jackson , sure of his wages , whether on duty or off , was only feigning indisposition , nevertheless it was plain that , from his excesses in Liverpool , the malady which had long fastened its fangs in his flesh , was now gnawing into his vitals . His cheek became thinner and yellower , and the bones projected like those of a skull . His snaky eyes rolled in red sockets ; nor could he lift his hand without a violent tremor ; while his racking cough many a time startled us from sleep .