º£ÀÇ£¨The SEA-WOLF£©
VOLUME ¢ò
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE.
¡¡¡¡THE CHAGRIN WOLF LARSEN felt from being ignored by Maud Brewster and
me in the conversation at table had to express itself in some fashion,
and it fell to Thomas Mugridge to be the victim. He had not mended his
ways or his shirt, though the latter he contended he had changed.
The garment itself did not bear out the assertion, nor did the
accumulations of grease on stove and pot and pan attest a general
cleanliness.
¡¡¡¡'I've given you warning, Cooky,' Wolf Larsen said, 'and now you've
got to take your medicine.'
¡¡¡¡Mugridge's face turned white under its sooty veneer, and when Wolf
Larsen called for a rope and a couple of men, the miserable Cockney
fled wildly out of the galley and dodged and ducked about the deck,
with the grinning crew in pursuit. Few things could have been more
to their liking than to give him a tow over the side, for to the
forecastle he had sent messages and concoctions of the vilest order.
Conditions favored the undertaking. The Ghost was slipping through the
water at no more than three miles an hour, and the sea was fairly
calm. But Mugridge had little stomach for a dip in it. Possibly he had
seen men towed before. Besides, the water was frightfully cold, and
his was anything but a rugged constitution.
¡¡¡¡As usual, the watches below and the hunters turned out for what
promised sport. Mugridge seemed to be in rabid fear of the water,
and he exhibited a nimbleness and speed we did not dream he possessed.
Cornered in the right angle of the poop and galley, he sprang like a
cat to the top of the cabin and ran aft. But his pursuers forestalling
him, he doubled back across the cabin, passed over the galley, and
gained the deck by means of the steerage scuttle. Straight forward
he raced, the boat-puller Harrison at his heels and gaining on him.
But Mugridge, leaping suddenly, caught the jib-boom-lift. It
happened in an instant. Holding his weight by his arms and in
mid-air doubling his body at the hips, he let fly with both feet.
The oncoming Harrison caught the kick squarely in the pit of the
stomach, groaned involuntarily, and doubled up and backward to the
deck.
¡¡¡¡Hand-clapping and roars of laughter from the hunters greeted the
exploit while Mugridge, eluding half of his pursuers at the
foremast, ran aft and through the remainder like a runner on the
football field. Straight aft he held to the poop, and along the poop
to the stern. So great was his speed that as he curved past the corner
of the cabin he slipped and fell. Nilson was standing at the wheel,
and the Cockney's hurling body struck his legs. Both went down
together, but Mugridge alone arose. By some freak of pressures, his
frail body had snapped the strong man's leg like a pipe-stem.
¡¡¡¡Parsons took the wheel, and the pursuit continued. Round and round
the decks they went, Mugridge sick with fear, the sailors hallooing
and shouting directions to one another, and the hunters bellowing
encouragement and laughter. Mugridge went down on the fore-hatch,
under three men; but he emerged from the mass like an eel, bleeding at
the mouth, the offending shirt ripped into tatters, and sprang for the
main-rigging. Up he went, clear up, beyond the ratlines, to the very
masthead.
¡¡¡¡Half a dozen sailors swarmed to the crosstrees after him, where they
clustered and waited while two of their number, Oofty-Oofty and
Black (who was Latimer's boat-steerer), continued up the thin steel
stays, lifting their bodies higher and higher by means of their arms.
¡¡¡¡It was a perilous undertaking, for, at a height of over a hundred
feet from the deck, holding on by their hands, they were not in the
best of positions to protect themselves from Mugridge's feet. And
Mugridge kicked savagely, till the Kanaka, hanging on with one hand,
seized the Cockney's foot with the other. Black duplicated the
performance a moment later with the other foot. Then the three writhed
together in a swaying tangle, struggling, sliding, and falling into
the arms of their mates on the crosstrees.
¡¡¡¡The aerial battle was over, and Thomas Mugridge, whining and
gibbering, was brought down to the deck. Wolf Larsen rove a bowline in
a piece of rope and slipped it under his shoulders. Then he was
carried aft and flung into the sea. Forty- fifty- sixty feet of line
ran out, when Wolf Larsen cried, 'Belay!' Oofty-Oofty took a turn on a
bitt, the rope tautened, and the Ghost, lunging onward, jerked the
cook to the surface.
¡¡¡¡It was a pitiful spectacle. Though he could not drown, and was
nine-lived in addition, he was suffering all the agonies of
half-drowning. The Ghost was going very slowly, and when her stern
lifted on a wave and she slipped forward, she pulled the wretch to the
surface and gave him a moment in which to breathe; but after each lift
the stern fell, and while the bow lazily climbed the next wave the
line slackened and he sank beneath.
¡¡¡¡I had forgotten the existence of Maud Brewster, and I remembered her
with a start as she stepped lightly beside me. It was her first time
on deck since she had come aboard. A dead silence greeted her
appearance.
¡¡¡¡'What is the cause of the merriment?' she asked.
¡¡¡¡'Ask Captain Larsen,' I answered composedly and coldly, though
inwardly my blood was boiling at the thought that she should be
witness to such brutality.
¡¡¡¡She took my advice and was turning to put it into execution when her
eyes lighted on Oofty-Oofty, immediately before her, his body instinct
with alertness and grace as he held the turn of the rope.
¡¡¡¡'Are you fishing?' she asked him.
¡¡¡¡He made no reply. His eyes, fixed intently on the sea astern,
suddenly flashed.
¡¡¡¡'Shark, ho, sir!' he cried.
¡¡¡¡'Heave in! Lively! All hands tail on!' Wolf Larsen shouted,
springing himself to the rope in advance of the quickest.
¡¡¡¡Mugridge had heard the Kanaka's warning cry and was screaming madly.
I could see a black fin cutting the water and making for him with
greater swiftness than he was being pulled aboard. It was an even toss
whether the shark or we would get him, and it was a matter of moments.
When Mugridge was directly beneath us, the stern descended the slope
of a passing wave, thus giving the advantage to the shark. The fin
disappeared. The belly flashed white in a swift upward rush. Almost
equally swift, but not quite, was Wolf Larsen. He threw his strength
into one tremendous jerk. The Cockney's body left the water, so did
part of the shark's. He drew up his legs, and the man-eater seemed
no more than barely to touch one foot, sinking back into the water
with a splash. But at the moment of contact Thomas Mugridge cried out.
Then he came in like a fresh-caught fish on a line, clearing the
rail generously and striking the deck in a heap, on hands and knees,
and rolling over. The right foot was missing, amputated neatly at
the ankle!
¡¡¡¡I looked instantly at Maud Brewster. Her face was white, her eyes
dilated with horror. She was gazing, not at Thomas Mugridge, but at
Wolf Larsen. And he was aware of it, for he said, with one of his
short laughs:
¡¡¡¡'Man-play, Miss Brewster. Somewhat rougher, I warrant, than that you
have been used to, but still man-play. The shark was not in the
reckoning. It-'
¡¡¡¡But at this juncture, Mugridge, who had lifted his head and
ascertained the extent of his loss, floundered over on the deck and
buried his teeth in Wolf Larsen's leg. Wolf Larsen stooped, coolly, to
the Cockney, and pressed with thumb and finger at the rear of the jaws
and below the ears. The jaws opened with reluctance, and Wolf Larsen
stepped free.
¡¡¡¡'As I was saying,' went on, as though nothing unwonted had happened,
'the shark was not in the reckoning. It was- ahem- shall we say
Providence?'
¡¡¡¡She gave no sign that she had heard, though the expression of her
eyes changed to one of inexpressible loathing as she started to turn
away. She no more than started, for she swayed and tottered, and
reached her hand weakly out to mine. I caught her in time to save
her from falling, and helped her to a seat on the cabin. I thought she
must faint outright, but she controlled herself.
¡¡¡¡'Will you get a tourniquet, Mr. Van Weyden?' Wolf Larsen called to
me.
¡¡¡¡I hesitated. Her lips moved, and though they formed no words, she
commanded me with her eyes, plainly as speech, to go to the help of
the unfortunate man. 'Please,' she managed to whisper, and I could but
obey.
¡¡¡¡By now I had developed such skill at surgery that Wolf Larsen,
beyond several words of advice, left me to my task with a couple of
sailors for assistants. For his task he elected a vengeance on the
shark.
¡¡¡¡A heavy swivel-hook, baited with fat salt pork, was dropped
overside; and by the time I had compressed the severed veins and
arteries the sailors were singing and heaving in the offending
monster. I did not see it myself, but my assistants, first one and
then the other, deserted me for a few moments to run amidships and
look at what was going on. The shark, a sixteen-footer, was hoisted up
against the main-rigging. Its jaws were pried apart to their
greatest extension, and a stout stake, sharpened at both ends, was
so inserted that when the pries were removed the spread jaws were
fixed upon it. This accomplished, the hook was cut out. The shark
dropped back into the sea, helpless, yet with its full strength,
doomed to lingering starvation- a living death less meet for it than
for the man who devised the punishment.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO.
¡¡¡¡I KNEW WHAT IT WAS AS SHE came toward me. For ten minutes I had
watched her talking earnestly with the engineer, and now, with a
sign for silence, I drew her out of earshot of the helmsman. Her
face was white and set; her large eyes- larger than usual, what of the
purpose in them- looked penetratingly into mine. I felt rather timid
and apprehensive, for she had come to search Humphrey Van Weyden's
soul, and Humphrey Van Weyden had nothing of which to be
particularly proud since his advent on the Ghost.
¡¡¡¡We walked to the break of the poop, where she turned and faced me. I
glanced around to see that no one was within hearing distance.
¡¡¡¡'What is it?' I asked gently; but the expression of grim
determination on her face did not relax.
¡¡¡¡'I can readily understand,' she began, 'that this morning's affair
was largely an accident; but I have been talking with Mr. Haskins.
He tells me that the day we were rescued, even while I was in the
cabin, two men were drowned, deliberately drowned- murdered.'
¡¡¡¡There was a query in her voice, and she faced me accusingly, as
though I were guilty of the deed, or at least a party to it.
¡¡¡¡'The information is quite correct,' I answered. 'The two men were
murdered.'
¡¡¡¡'And you permitted it!' she cried.
¡¡¡¡'I was unable to prevent it, is a better way of phrasing it,' I
replied, still gently.
¡¡¡¡'But you tried to prevent it?' There was an emphasis on the 'tried,'
and a pleading little note in her voice. 'Oh, but you didn't!' she
hurried on, divining my answer. 'But why didn't you?'
¡¡¡¡I shrugged my shoulders.
¡¡¡¡'You must remember, Miss Brewster, that you are a new inhabitant
of this little world, and that you do not yet understand the laws
which operate within it. You bring with you certain fine conceptions
of humanity, manhood, conduct, and such things; but here you will find
them misconceptions. I have found it so,' I added, with an involuntary
sigh.
¡¡¡¡She shook her head incredulously.
¡¡¡¡'What would you advise, then?' I asked. 'That I should take a knife,
or a gun, or an ax, and kill this man?'
¡¡¡¡She started back.
¡¡¡¡'No, not that!'
¡¡¡¡'Then what should I do? Kill myself?'
¡¡¡¡'You speak in purely materialistic terms,' she objected. 'There is
such a thing as moral courage, and moral courage is never without
effect.'
¡¡¡¡'Ah,' I smiled, 'you advise me to kill neither him nor myself, but
to let him kill me.' I held up my hand as she was about to speak. 'For
moral courage is a worthless asset on this little floating world.
Leach, one of the men who were murdered, had moral courage to an
unusual degree. So had the other man, Johnson. Not only did it not
stand them in good stead, but it destroyed them. And so with me, if
I should exercise what little moral courage I may possess. You must
understand, Miss Brewster, and understand clearly, that this man is
a monster. He is without conscience. Nothing is sacred to him, nothing
is too terrible for him to do. It was due to his whim that I was
detained aboard in the first place. It is due to his whim that I am
still alive. I do nothing, can do nothing, because I am a slave to
this monster, as you are now a slave to him; because I desire to live,
as you will desire to live; because I cannot fight and overcome him,
just as you will not be able to fight and overcome him.'
¡¡¡¡She waited for me to go on.
¡¡¡¡'What remains? Mine is the role of the weak. I remain silent and
suffer ignominy as you will remain silent and suffer ignominy. And
it is well. It is the best we can do if we wish to live. The battle is
not always to the strong. We have not the strength with which to fight
this man; we must dissimulate, and win, if win we can, by craft. If
you will be advised by me, this is what you will do. I know my
position is perilous, and I may say frankly that yours is even more
perilous. We must stand together, without appearing to do so, in
secret alliance. I shall not be able to side with you openly, and,
no matter what indignities may be put upon me, you are to remain
likewise silent. We must provoke no scenes with this man, or cross his
will. And we must keep smiling faces and be friendly with him, no
matter how repulsive it may be.'
¡¡¡¡She brushed her hand across her forehead in a puzzled way, saying,
'Still, I do not understand.'
¡¡¡¡'You must do as I say,' I interrupted authoritatively, for I saw
Wolf Larsen's gaze wandering toward us from where he paced up and down
with Latimer amidships. 'Do as I say, and before long you will find
I am right.'
¡¡¡¡'What shall I do, then?' she asked, detecting the anxious glance I
had shot at the object of our conversation, and impressed, I flatter
myself with the earnestness of my manner.
¡¡¡¡'Dispense with all the moral courage you can,' I said briskly.
'Don't arouse this man's animosity. Be quite friendly with him, talk
with him, discuss literature and art with him- he is fond of such
things. You will find him an interested listener and no fool. And
for your own sake try to avoid witnessing, as much as you can, the
brutalities of the ship. It will make it easier for you to act your
part.'
¡¡¡¡'I am to lie,' she said in steady, rebellious tones; 'by speech
and action to lie.'
¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen had separated from Latimer and was coming toward us. I
was desperate.
¡¡¡¡'Please, please understand me,' I said hurriedly, lowering my voice.
'All your experience of men and things is worthless here. You must
begin over again. I know- I can see it- you have, among other ways,
been used to managing people with your eyes, letting your moral
courage speak out through them, as it were. You have already managed
me with your eyes, commanded me with them. But don't try it on Wolf
Larsen. You could as easily control a lion, while he would make a mock
of you. He would-'
¡¡¡¡'I have always been proud of the fact that I discovered him,' I
said, turning the conversation as Wolf Larsen stepped on the poop
and joined us. 'The editors were afraid of him, and the publishers
would have none of him. But I knew, and his genius and my judgment
were vindicated when he made that magnificent hit with his "Plowman."
¡¡¡¡'And it was a newspaper poem,' she said glibly.
¡¡¡¡'It did happen to see the light in a newspaper,' I replied, 'but not
because the magazine editors had been denied a glimpse at it.
¡¡¡¡'We were talking of Harris,' I said to Wolf Larsen.
¡¡¡¡'Oh, yes,' he acknowledged. 'I remember "The Ring." Filled with
pretty sentiments and an almighty faith in human illusions. By the
way, Mr. Van Weyden, you'd better look in on Cooky. He's complaining
and restless.'
¡¡¡¡Thus was I bluntly dismissed from the poop, only to find Mugridge
sleeping soundly from the morphine I had given him. I made no haste to
return on deck, and when I did, I was gratified to see Miss Brewster
in animated conversation with Wolf Larsen. As I say, the sight
gratified me. She was following my advice. And yet I was conscious
of a slight shock or hurt in that she was able to do the thing I had
begged her to do, and which she had notably disliked.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE.
¡¡¡¡BRAVE WINDS, BLOWING FAIR, swiftly drove the Ghost northward into
the sealherd. We encountered it well up to the forty-fourth
parallel, in a raw and stormy sea across which the wind harried the
fog-banks in eternal flight. For days at a time we could never see the
sun or take an observation; then the wind would sweep the face of
the ocean clean, the waves would ripple and flash, and we would
learn where we were. A day of clear weather might follow, or three
days or four, and then the fog would settle down upon us seemingly
thicker than ever.
¡¡¡¡The hunting was perilous; yet the boats were lowered day after
day, were swallowed up in the gray obscurity, and were seen no more
till nightfall, and often not till long after, when they would creep
in like sea-wraiths, one by one, out of the gray. Wainwright, the
hunter whom Wolf Larsen had stolen with boat and men, took advantage
of the veiled sea and escaped. He disappeared one morning in the
encircling fog with his two men, and we never saw them again, though
it was not many days before we learned that they had passed from
schooner to schooner until they finally regained their own.
¡¡¡¡This was the thing I had set my mind upon doing, but the opportunity
never offered. It was not in the mate's province to go out in the
boats, and though I maneuvered cunningly for it, Wolf Larsen never
granted me the privilege. Had he done so, I should have managed
somehow to carry Miss Brewster away with me. As it was, the
situation was approaching a stage which I was afraid to consider. I
involuntarily shunned the thought of it, and yet the thought
continually arose in my mind like a haunting specter.
¡¡¡¡I had read sea-romances in my time, wherein figured, as a matter
of course, the lone woman in the midst of a shipload of men; but I
learned now that I had never comprehended the deeper significance of
such a situation- the thing the writers harped upon and exploited so
thoroughly. And here it was now, and I was face to face with it.
That it should be as vital as possible, it required no more than
that the woman should be Maud Brewster, who now charmed me in person
as she had long charmed me through her work.
¡¡¡¡No one more out of environment could be imagined. She was a
delicate, ethereal creature, swaying and willowy, light and graceful
of movement. It never seemed to me that she walked, or, at least,
walked after the ordinary manner of mortals. Hers was an extreme
lithesomeness, and she moved with a certain indefinable airiness,
approaching one as down might float or as bird on noiseless wings.
¡¡¡¡She was like a bit of Dresden china, and I was continually impressed
with what I may call her fragility. As at the time I caught her arm
when helping her below, so at any time I was quite prepared, should
stress or rough handling befall her, to see her crumble away. I have
never seen body and spirit in such perfect accord. Describe her verse,
as the critics have, as sublimated and spiritual, and you have
described her body. It seemed to partake of her soul, to have
analogous attributes, and to link it to life with the slenderest of
chains. Indeed, she trod the earth lightly, and in her constitution
there was little of the robust clay.
¡¡¡¡She was in striking contrast to Wolf Larsen. Each was nothing that
the other was, everything that the other was not. I noted them walking
the deck together one morning, and I likened them to the extreme
ends of the human ladder of evolution- the one the culmination of
all savagery, the other the finished product of the finest
civilization. True, Wolf Larsen possessed intellect to an unusual
degree, but it was directed solely to the exercise of his savage
instincts and made him but the more formidable a savage. He was
splendidly muscled, a heavy man, and though he strode with the
certitude and directness of the physical man, there was nothing
heavy about his stride. The jungle and the wilderness lurked in the
lift and downput of his feet. He was cat-footed, lithe, and strong,
always strong. I likened him to some great tiger, a beast of prowess
and prey. He looked it, and the piercing glitter that arose at times
in his eyes was the same piercing glitter I had observed in the eyes
of caged leopards and other preying creatures of the wild.
¡¡¡¡But this day, as I noted them pacing up and down, I saw that it
was she who terminated the walk. They came up to where I was
standing by the entrance to the companionway. Though she betrayed it
by no outward sign, I felt, somehow, that she was greatly perturbed.
She made some idle remark, looking at me, and laughed lightly
enough, but I saw her eyes return to his, involuntarily, as though
fascinated; then they fell, but not swiftly enough to veil the rush of
terror that filled them.
¡¡¡¡It was in his eyes that I saw the cause of her perturbation.
Ordinarily gray and cold and harsh, they were now warm and soft and
golden, and all adance with tiny lights that dimmed and faded, or
welled up till the full orbs were flooded with a flowing radiance.
Perhaps it was to this that the golden color was due; but golden his
eyes were, enticing and masterful, at the same time luring and
compelling, and speaking a demand and clamor of the blood which no
woman, much less Maud Brewster, could misunderstand.
¡¡¡¡Her own terror rushed upon me, and in that moment of fear, the
most terrible fear a man can experience, I knew that in
inexpressible ways she was dear to me. The knowledge that I loved
her rushed upon me with the terror, and with both emotions gripping at
my heart and causing my blood at the same time to chill and to leap
riotously. I felt myself drawn by a power without me and beyond me,
and found my eyes returning against my will to gaze into the eyes of
Wolf Larsen. But he had recovered himself. The golden color and the
dancing lights were gone. Cold and gray and glittering they were as he
bowed brusquely and turned away.
¡¡¡¡'I am afraid,' she whispered, with a shiver. 'I am so afraid.'
¡¡¡¡I, too, was afraid, and, what of my discovery of how much she
meant to me, my mind was in a turmoil; but I succeeded in answering
quite calmly: 'All will come right, Miss Brewster. Trust me; it will
come right.'
¡¡¡¡She answered with a grateful little smile that sent my heart
pounding, and started to descend the companion-stairs.
¡¡¡¡For a long while I remained standing where she had left me. There
was imperative need to adjust myself, to consider the significance
of the changed aspect of things. It had come at last: love had come
when I least expected it, and under the most forbidding conditions. Of
course my philosophy had always recognized the inevitableness of the
love-call sooner or later; but long years of bookish silence had
made me inattentive and unprepared.
¡¡¡¡And now it had come! Maud Brewster! My memory flashed back to that
first thin little volume on my desk, and I saw before me, as though in
the concrete, the row of thin little volumes on my library shelf.
How I had welcomed each of them! Each year one had come from the
press, and to me each was the advent of the year. They had voiced a
kindred intellect and spirit, and as such I had received them into a
camaraderie of the mind; but now their place was in my heart.
¡¡¡¡My heart? A revulsion of feeling came over me. I seemed to stand
outside myself and to look at myself incredulously. Maud Brewster!
Humphrey Van Weyden, the 'cold-blooded fish,' the 'emotionless
monster,' the 'analytical demon,' of Charley Furuseth's christening,
in love! And then, without rhyme or reason, all skeptical, my mind
flew back to a small note in a biographical directory, and I said to
myself: 'She was born in Cambridge, and she is twenty-seven years
old.' And then I said: 'Twenty-seven years old, and still free and
fancy-free.' But how did I know she was fancy-free? And the pang of
new-born jealousy put all incredulity to flight. There was no doubt
about it. I was jealous; therefore I loved. And the woman I loved
was Maud Brewster.
¡¡¡¡I, Humphrey Van Weyden, was in love! And again the doubt assailed
me. Not that I was afraid of it, however, or reluctant to meet it.
On the contrary, idealist that I was to the most pronounced degree, my
philosophy had always recognized and guerdoned love as the greatest
thing in the world, the aim and the summit of being, the most
exquisite pitch of joy and happiness to which life could thrill, the
thing of all things to be hailed and welcomed and taken into the
heart. But now that it had come I could not believe. I could not be so
fortunate. It was too good, too good to be true. These lines came into
my head:
¡¡¡¡ I wandered all these years among
¡¡¡¡ A world of women, seeking you.
¡¡¡¡And then I had ceased seeking. It was not for me, this greatest
thing in the world, I had decided. Furuseth was right; I was abnormal,
an 'emotionless monster,' a strange bookish creature capable of
pleasuring in sensations only of the mind. And though I had been
surrounded by women all my days, my appreciation of them had been
esthetic and nothing more. I had actually, at times, considered myself
outside the pale, a monkish fellow denied the eternal or the passing
passions I saw and understood so well in others. And now it had
come! Undreamed of and unheralded, it had come. In what would have
been no less than an ecstasy, I left my post at the head of the
companionway and started along the deck, murmuring to myself those
beautiful lines of Mrs. Browning:
¡¡¡¡ I lived with visions for my company
¡¡¡¡ Instead of men and women years ago,
¡¡¡¡ And found them gentle mates, nor thought to know
¡¡¡¡ A sweeter music than they played to me.
¡¡¡¡But the sweeter music was playing in my ears, and I was blind and
oblivious to all about me. The sharp voice of Wolf Larsen aroused me.
¡¡¡¡'What the hell are you up to?' he was demanding.
¡¡¡¡I had strayed forward where the sailors were painting, and I came to
myself to find my advancing foot on the verge of overturning a
paint-pot.
¡¡¡¡'Sleepwalking, sunstroke- what?' he barked.
¡¡¡¡'No; indigestion,' I retorted, and continued my walk as if nothing
untoward had occurred.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR.
¡¡¡¡AMONG THE MOST VIVID memories of my life are those of the events
on the Ghost which occurred during the forty hours succeeding the
discovery of my love for Maud Brewster. I, who had lived my life in
quiet places, only to enter at the age of thirty-five upon a court
of the most irrational adventure I could have imagined, never had more
incident and excitement crammed into any forty hours of my experience.
Nor can I quite close my ears to a small voice of pride which tells me
I did not do so badly, all things considered.
¡¡¡¡To begin with, at the midday dinner Wolf Larsen informed the hunters
that they were to eat thenceforth in the steerage. It was an
unprecedented thing on sealing-schooners, where it is the custom for
the hunters to rank unofficially as officers. He gave no reason, but
his motive was obvious enough. Horner and Smoke had been displaying
a gallantry toward Maud Brewster, ludicrous in itself and
inoffensive to her, but to him evidently distasteful.
¡¡¡¡The announcement was received with black silence, though the other
four hunters glanced significantly at the two who had been the cause
of their banishment. Jock Horner, quiet as was his way, gave no
sign; but the blood surged darkly across Smoke's forehead, and he half
opened his mouth to speak. Wolf Larsen was watching him, waiting for
him, the steely glitter in his eyes; but Smoke closed his mouth
again without having said anything.
¡¡¡¡'Anything to say?' the other demanded aggressively.
¡¡¡¡It was a challenge, but Smoke refused to accept it.
¡¡¡¡'About what?' he asked so innocently that Wolf Larsen was
disconcerted, while the others smiled.
¡¡¡¡'Oh, nothing,' Wolf Larsen said lamely. 'I just thought you might
want to register a kick.'
¡¡¡¡'About what?' asked the imperturbable Smoke.
¡¡¡¡Smoke's mates were now smiling broadly. His captain could have
killed him, and I doubt not that blood would have flowed had not
Maud Brewster been present. For that matter, it was her presence which
enabled Smoke to act as he did. He was too discreet and cautious a man
to incur Wolf Larsen's anger at a time when that anger could be
expressed in terms stronger than words. I was in fear that a
struggle might take place, but a cry from the helmsman made it easy
for the situation to save itself.
¡¡¡¡'Smoke ho!' the cry came down the open companionway.
¡¡¡¡'How's it bear?' Wolf Larsen called up.
¡¡¡¡'Dead astern, sir!'
¡¡¡¡'Maybe it's a Russian,' suggested Latimer.
¡¡¡¡His words brought anxiety into the faces of the other hunters. A
Russian could mean but one thing- a cruiser. The hunters, never more
than roughly aware of the position of the ship, nevertheless knew that
we were close to the boundaries of the forbidden sea, while Wolf
Larsen's record as a poacher was notorious. All eyes centered upon
him.
¡¡¡¡'We're dead safe,' he assured them with a laugh. 'No salt-mines this
time, Smoke. But I'll tell you what- I'll lay odds of five to one it's
the Macedonia.'
¡¡¡¡No one accepted his offer, and he went on: 'In which event I'll
lay ten to one there's trouble breezing up.'
¡¡¡¡'No, thank you,' Latimer spoke up. 'I don't object to losing my
money, but I like to get a run for it, anyway. There never was a
time when there wasn't trouble when you and that brother of yours
got together, and I'll lay twenty to one on that.'
¡¡¡¡A general smile followed, in which Wolf Larsen joined, and the
dinner went on smoothly, thanks to me, for he treated me abominably
the rest of the meal, sneering at me and patronizing me till I was all
a-tremble with suppressed rage. Yet I knew I must control myself for
Maud Brewster's sake, and I received my reward when her eyes caught
mine for a fleeting second, and they said as distinctly as if she
spoke, 'Be brave, be brave!'
¡¡¡¡We left the table to go on deck, for a steamer was a welcome break
in the monotony of the sea on which we floated, while the conviction
that it was 'Death' Larsen and the Macedonia added to the
excitement. The stiff breeze and heavy sea which had sprung up the
previous afternoon had been moderating all the morning, so that it was
now possible to lower the boats for an afternoon's hunt. The hunting
promised to be profitable. We had sailed since daylight across a sea
barren of seals and were now running into the herd.
¡¡¡¡The smoke was still miles astern, but overhauling us rapidly, when
we lowered our boats. They spread out and struck a northerly course
across the ocean. Now and again we saw a sail lower, heard the reports
of the shotguns, and saw the sail go up again. The seals were thick,
the wind dying away; everything favored a big catch. As we ran off
to get our leeward position of the last lee boat, we found the ocean
fairly carpeted with sleeping seals. They were all about us, thicker
than I had ever seen them before, in twos and threes and bunches,
stretched full-length on the surface, and sleeping for all the world
like so many lazy young dogs.
¡¡¡¡Under the approaching smoke the hull and upper works of a steamer
were growing larger and larger. It was the Macedonia. I read her
name through the glasses as she passed by scarcely a mile to
starboard. Wolf Larsen looked savagely at the vessel, while Maud
Brewster was curious.
¡¡¡¡'Where is the trouble you were so sure was breezing up, Captain
Larsen?' she asked gaily.
¡¡¡¡He glanced at her, a moment's amusement softening his features.
¡¡¡¡'What did you expect? That they'd come aboard and cut out throats?'
¡¡¡¡'Something like that,' she confessed. 'You understand,
seal-hunters are so new and strange to me that I am quite ready to
expect anything.'
¡¡¡¡He nodded his head.
¡¡¡¡'Quite right, quite right. Your error is that you failed to expect
the worst.'
¡¡¡¡'Why, what can be worse than cutting our throats?' she asked, with
pretty, naive surprise.
¡¡¡¡'Cutting our purses,' he answered. 'Man is so made these days that
his capacity for living is determined by the money he possesses.'
¡¡¡¡'"Who steals my purse steals trash,"' she quoted.
¡¡¡¡'Who steals my purse steals my right to live,' was the reply, 'old
saws to the contrary. For he steals my bread and meat and bed, and
in so doing imperils my life. There are not enough soup-kitchens and
bread-lines to go around, you know, and when men have nothing in their
purses they usually die, and die miserably- unless they are able to
fill their purses pretty speedily.'
¡¡¡¡'But I fail to see that this steamer has any designs on your purse.'
¡¡¡¡'Wait and you will see,' he answered grimly.
¡¡¡¡We did not have long to wait. Having passed several miles beyond our
line of boats, the Macedonia proceeded to lower her own. We knew she
carried fourteen boats to our five (we were one-short through the
desertion of Wainwright), and she began dropping them far to leeward
of our last boat, continued dropping them athwart our course, and
finished dropping them far to windward of our first weather boat.
The hunting, for us, was spoiled. There were no seals behind us, and
ahead of us the line of fourteen boats, like a huge broom, swept the
herd before it.
¡¡¡¡Our boats hunted across the two or three miles of water between them
and the point where the Macedonia's had been dropped, and then
headed for home. The wind had fallen to a whisper, the ocean was
growing calmer and calmer, and this, coupled with the presence of
the great herd, made a perfect hunting-day- one of the two or three
days to be encountered in the whole of a lucky season. An angry lot of
men, boat-pullers and steerers as well as hunters, swarmed over our
side. Each man felt that he had been robbed, and the boats were
hoisted in amid curses, which, if curses had power, would have settled
Death Larsen for all eternity- 'Dead and damned for a dozen of
eternities,' commented Louis, his eyes twinkling up at me as he rested
from hauling taut the lashings of his boat.
¡¡¡¡'Listen to them, and find if it is hard to discover the most vital
thing in their souls,' said Wolf Larsen. 'Faith, and love, and high
ideals? The good, the beautiful, the true?'
¡¡¡¡'Their innate sense of right has been violated,' Maud Brewster said,
joining the conversation.
¡¡¡¡She was standing a dozen feet away, one hand resting on the
main-shrouds and her body swaying gently to the slight roll of the
ship. She had not raised her voice, and yet I was struck by its
clear and bell-like tone. Ah, it was sweet in my ears! I scarcely
dared look at her just then, for fear of betraying myself. A small
boy's cap was perched on her head, and her hair, light brown and
arranged in a loose and fluffy order that caught the sun, seemed an
aureole about the delicate oval of her face. She was positively
bewitching, and, withal, sweetly spirituelle, if not saintly. All my
oldtime marvel at life returned to me at sight of this splendid
incarnation of it, and Wolf Larsen's cold explanation of life and
its meaning was truly ridiculous and laughable.
¡¡¡¡'A sentimentalist,' he sneered, 'like Mr. Van Weyden. Those men
are cursing because their desires have been outraged. That is all.
What desires? The desires for the good grub and soft beds ashore which
a handsome payday brings them- the women and the drink, the gorging
and the beastliness which so truly express them, the best that is in
them, their highest aspirations, their ideals, if you please. The
exhibition they make of their feelings is not a touching sight, yet it
shows how deeply they have been touched, how deeply their purses
have been touched; for to lay hands on their purses is to lay hands on
their souls.'
¡¡¡¡'You hardly behave as if your purse had been touched,' she said
smilingly.
¡¡¡¡'Then it so happens that I am behaving differently, for my purse and
my soul have both been touched. At the current price of skins in the
London market, and based on a fair estimate of what the afternoon's
catch would have been had not the Macedonia hogged it, the Ghost has
lost about fifteen hundred dollars' worth of skins.'
¡¡¡¡'You speak so calmly- ' she began.
¡¡¡¡'But I do not feel calm; I could kill the man who has robbed me,' he
interrupted. 'Yes, yes, I know, and that man my brother- more
sentiment! Bah!'
¡¡¡¡His face underwent a sudden change. His voice was less harsh and
wholly sincere as he said:
¡¡¡¡'You must be happy, you sentimentalists, really and truly happy at
dreaming and finding things good, and, because you find some of them
good, feeling good yourselves. Now, tell me, you two, do you find me
good?'
¡¡¡¡'You are good to look upon- in a way,' I qualified.
¡¡¡¡'There are in you all powers for good,' was Maud Brewster's answer.
¡¡¡¡'There you are!' he cried at her, half angrily. 'Your words are
empty to me. There is nothing clear and sharp and definite about the
thought you have expressed. You cannot pick it up in your two hands
and look at it. In point of fact, it is not a thought. It is a
feeling, a sentiment, a something based upon illusion, and not a
product of the intellect at all.'
¡¡¡¡As he went on, his voice again grew soft, and a confiding note
came into it. 'Do you know, I sometimes catch myself wishing that I,
too, were blind to the facts of life and knew only its fancies and
illusions. They're wrong, all wrong, of course, and contrary to
reason, but in the face of them my reason tells me, wrong and most
wrong, that to dream and live illusions give greater delight. And,
after all, delight is the wage for living. Without delight, living
is a worthless act. To labor at living and be paid is worse than to be
dead. He who delights the most, lives the most, and your dreams and
unrealities are less disturbing to you and most gratifying than are my
facts to me.'
¡¡¡¡He shook his head slowly, pondering.
¡¡¡¡'I often doubt the worthwhileness of reason. Dreams must be more
substantial and satisfying. Emotional delight is more filling and
lasting than intellectual delight; and, besides, you pay for your
moments of intellectual delight by having the blues. Emotional delight
is followed by no more than jaded senses, which speedily recuperate. I
envy you, I envy you.' He stopped abruptly, and then on his lips
formed one of his strange quizzical smiles, as he added: 'It's from my
brain I envy you, take notice, and not from my heart. My reason
dictates it. The envy is an intellectual product. I am like a sober
man looking upon drunken men, and, greatly weary, wishing he, too,
were drunk.'
¡¡¡¡'Or like a wise man looking upon fools and wishing he, too, were a
fool,' I laughed.
¡¡¡¡'Quite so,' he said. 'You are blessed, bankrupt pair of fools. You
have no facts in your pocketbook.'
¡¡¡¡'Yet we spend as freely as you,' was Maud Brewster's contribution.
¡¡¡¡'More freely, because it costs you nothing.'
¡¡¡¡'And because we draw upon eternity,' she retorted.
¡¡¡¡'Whether you do or think you do, it's the same thing. You spend what
you haven't got, and in return you get greater value from spending
what you haven't got than I get from spending what I have got and what
I have sweated to get.'
¡¡¡¡'Why don't you change the basis of your coinage, then?' she
queried teasingly.
¡¡¡¡He looked at her quickly, half hopefully, and then said, all
regretfully: 'Too late. I'd like to, perhaps, but I can't. My
pocketbook is stuffed with the old coinage, and it's a stubborn thing.
I can never bring myself to recognize anything else as valid.'
¡¡¡¡He ceased speaking, and his gaze wandered absently past her and
became lost in the placid sea. The old primal melancholy was strong
upon him. He was quivering to it. He had reasoned himself into a spell
of the blues, and within a few hours one could look for the devil
within him to be up and stirring. I remembered Charley Furuseth, and
knew this man's sadness for the penalty which the materialist ever
pays for his materialism.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.
¡¡¡¡YOU'VE BEEN ON DECK, Mr. Van Weyden,' Wolf Larsen said the following
morning at the breakfast-table. 'How do things look?'
¡¡¡¡'Clear enough,' I answered, glancing at the sunshine which
streamed down the open companionway. 'Fair westerly breeze, with a
promise of stiffening, if Louis predicts correctly.'
¡¡¡¡He nodded his head in a pleased way. 'Any signs of fog?'
¡¡¡¡'Thick banks in the north and northwest.'
¡¡¡¡He nodded his head again, evincing even greater satisfaction than
before.
¡¡¡¡'What of the Macedonia?'
¡¡¡¡'Not sighted,' I answered.
¡¡¡¡I could have sworn his face fell at the intelligence, but why he
should be disappointed I could not conceive.
¡¡¡¡I was soon to learn. 'Smoke ho!' came the hail from on deck, and his
face brightened.
¡¡¡¡'Good!' he exclaimed, and left the table at once to go on deck and
into the steerage, where the hunters were taking the first breakfast
of their exile.
¡¡¡¡Maud Brewster and I scarcely touched the food before us, gazing,
instead, in silent anxiety at each other and listening to Wolf
Larsen's voice, which easily penetrated the cabin through the
intervening bulkhead. He spoke at length, and his conclusion was
greeted with a wild roar of cheers. The bulkhead was too thick for
us to hear what he said; but, whatever it was, it had affected the
hunters strongly, for the cheering was followed by loud exclamations
and shouts of joy.
¡¡¡¡From the sounds on deck I knew that the sailors had been routed
out and were preparing to lower the boats. Maud Brewster accompanied
me on deck, but I left her at the break of the poop, where she might
watch the scene and not be in it. The sailors must have learned
whatever project was on hand, and the vim and snap they put into their
work attested their enthusiasm. The hunters came trooping on deck with
shotguns and ammunition-boxes, and, most unusual, their rifles. The
latter were rarely taken in the boats, for a seal shot at long range
with a rifle invariably sank before a boat could reach it. But each
hunter this day had his rifle and a large supply of cartridges. I
noticed they grinned with satisfaction whenever they looked at the
Macedonia's smoke, which was rising higher and higher as she
approached from the west.
¡¡¡¡The five boats went over the side with a rush, spread out like the
ribs of a fan, and set a northerly course, as on the preceding
afternoon, for us to follow. I watched for some time, curiously, but
there seemed nothing extraordinary about their behavior. They
lowered sails, shot seals, and hoisted sails again and continued on
their way, as I had always seen them do. The Macedonia repeated her
performance of yesterday, 'hogging' the sea by dropping her line of
boats in advance of ours and across our course. Fourteen boats require
a considerable spread of ocean for comfortable hunting, and when she
had completely lapped our line she continued steaming into the
northeast, dropping more boats as she went.
¡¡¡¡'What's up?' I asked Wolf Larsen, unable longer to keep my curiosity
in check.
¡¡¡¡'Never mind what's up,' he answered gruffly. 'You won't be a
thousand years in finding out, and in the meantime just pray for
plenty of wind.
¡¡¡¡'Oh, well, I don't mind telling you,' he said the next moment.
'I'm going to give that brother of mine a taste of his own medicine.
In short, I'm going to play the hog myself, and not for one day, but
for the rest of the season- if we're in luck.'
¡¡¡¡'And if we're not?' I queried.
¡¡¡¡'Not to be considered,' he laughed. 'We simply must be in luck, or
it's all up with us.'
¡¡¡¡He had the wheel at the time, and I went forward to my hospital in
the forecastle, where lay the two cripped men, Nilson and Thomas
Mugridge. Nilson was as cheerful as could be expected, for his
broken leg was knitting nicely; but the Cockney was desperately
melancholy, and I was aware of a great sympathy for the unfortunate
creature. And the marvel of it was that still he lived and clung to
life. The brutal years had reduced his meager body to splintered
wreckage, and yet the spark of light within burned as brightly as
ever.
¡¡¡¡'With an artificial foot,- and they make excellent ones,- you will
be stumping ships' galleys to the end of time,' I assured him,
jovially.
¡¡¡¡But his answer was serious, nay, solemn.
¡¡¡¡'I don't know about wot you s'y, Mr. Van W'yden, but I do know
I'll never rest 'appy till I see that 'ell-'ound dead. 'E cawn't
live as long as me. 'E's got no right to live, an', as the Good Word
puts it, "'E shall shorely die," an' I s'y, "Amen, an' d- soon at
that."'
¡¡¡¡When I returned on deck I found Wolf Larsen steering mainly with one
hand, while with the other hand he held the marine glasses and studied
the situation of the boats, paying particular attention to the
position of the Macedonia. The only change noticeable in our boats was
that they had hauled close on the wind and were heading several points
west of north. Still, I could not see the expediency of the
maneuver, for the free sea was intercepted by the Macedonia's five
weather boats, which, in turn, had hauled close on the wind. Thus they
slowly diverged toward the west, drawing farther and farther away from
the remainder of the boats in their line.
¡¡¡¡Our boats were rowing as well as sailing. Even the hunters were
pulling, and with three pairs of oars in the water they rapidly
overhauled what I may appropriately term the enemy.
¡¡¡¡The smoke of the Macedonia had dwindled to a dim blot on the
northeastern horizon. Of the steamer herself nothing was to be seen.
We had been loafing along till now, our sails shaking half the time
and spilling the wind; and twice, for short periods, we had been
hove to. But there was no more loafing. Sheets were trimmed, and
Wolf Larsen proceeded to put the Ghost through her paces. We ran
past our line of boats and bore down upon the first weather boat of
the other line.
¡¡¡¡'Down that flying jib, Mr. Van Weyden,' Wolf Larsen commanded.
'And stand by to back over the jibs.'
¡¡¡¡I ran forward, and had the downhaul of the flying jib all in and
fast as we slipped by the boat a hundred feet to leeward. The three
men in it gazed at us suspiciously. They had been hogging the sea, and
they knew Wolf Larsen by reputation at any rate. I noted that the
hunter, a huge Scandinavian sitting in the bow, held his rifle,
ready to hand, across his knees. It should have been in its proper
place in the rack. When they came opposite our stern, Wolf Larsen
greeted them with a wave of the hand, and cried:
¡¡¡¡'Come on aboard and have a "gam"?'
¡¡¡¡'To gam,' among the sealing-schooners, is a substitute for the verbs
'to visit,' 'to gossip.' It expresses the garrulity of the sea, and is
a pleasant break in the monotony of the life.
¡¡¡¡The Ghost swung around into the wind, and I finished my work forward
in time to run aft and lend a hand with the main-sheet.
¡¡¡¡'You will please stay on deck, Miss Brewster,' Wolf Larsen said,
as he started forward to meet his guest. 'And you, too, Mr. Van
Weyden.'
¡¡¡¡The boat had lowered its sail and run alongside. The hunter,
golden-bearded like a sea-king, came over the rail and dropped on
deck. But his hugeness could not quite overcome his
apprehensiveness. Doubt and distrust showed strongly in his face. It
was a transparent face, for all of its hairy shield, and advertised
instant relief when he glanced from Wolf Larsen to me, noted that
there was only the pair of us, and then glanced over his own two
men, who had joined him. Surely he had little reason to be afraid.
He towered like a Goliath above Wolf Larsen. He must have measured six
feet eight or nine inches in stature, and I subsequently learned his
weight- two hundred and forty pounds. And there was no fat about
him; it was all bone and muscle.
¡¡¡¡A return of apprehension was apparent, when, at the top of the
companionway. Wolf Larsen invited him below. But he reassured
himself with a glance down at his host, a big man himself, but dwarfed
by the propinquity of the giant. So all hesitancy vanished, and the
pair descended into the cabin. In the meantime his two men, as was the
wont of visiting sailors, had gone forward into the forecastle to do
some visiting themselves.
¡¡¡¡Suddenly from the cabin came a great choking bellow, followed by all
the sounds of a furious struggle. It was the leopard and the lion, and
the lion made all the noise. Wolf Larsen was the leopard.
¡¡¡¡'You see the sacredness of our hospitality,' I said bitterly to Maud
Brewster.
¡¡¡¡She nodded her head that she heard, and I noted in her face the
signs of the same sickness at sight or sound of violent struggle
from which I had suffered so severely during my first weeks on the
Ghost.
¡¡¡¡'Wouldn't it be better if you went forward, say by the steerage
companionway, until it is over?' I suggested.
¡¡¡¡She shook her head and gazed at me pitifully. She was not
frightened, but appalled, rather, at the human animality of it.
¡¡¡¡'You will understand,' I took advantage of the opportunity to say,
'whatever part I take in what is going on and what is to come, that
I am compelled to take it- if you and I are ever to get out of this
scrape with our lives. It is not nice- for me,' I added.
¡¡¡¡'I understand,' she said in a weak, far-away voice, and her eyes
showed me that she did understand.
¡¡¡¡The sounds from below soon died away. Then Wolf Larsen came alone on
deck. There was slight flush under his bronze, but otherwise he bore
no signs of the battle.
¡¡¡¡'Send those two men aft, Mr. Van Weyden,' he said.
¡¡¡¡I obeyed, and a minute or two later they stood before him.
¡¡¡¡'Hoist in your boat,' he said to them. 'Your hunter's decided to
stay aboard awhile and doesn't want it pounding alongside.'
¡¡¡¡'Hoist in your boat, I said,' he repeated, this time in sharper
tones, as they hesitated to do his bidding.
¡¡¡¡'Who knows, you may have to sail with me for a time,' he said
quite softly, with a silken threat that belied the softness, as they
moved slowly to comply, 'and we might as well start with a friendly
understanding. Lively now! Death Larsen makes you jump better than
that, and you know it.'
¡¡¡¡Their movements perceptibly quickened under his coaching, and as the
boat swung inboard I was sent forward to let go the jibs. Wolf Larsen,
at the wheel, directed the Ghost after the Macedonia's second
weather boat.
¡¡¡¡Under way, and with nothing for the time being to do, I turned my
attention to the situation of the boats. The Macedonia's third weather
boat was being attacked by two. of ours, the fourth by our remaining
three; and the fifth, turn about, was taking a hand in the defense
of its nearest mate. The fight had opened at long distance, and the
rifles were cracking steadily. A quick, snappy sea was being kicked up
by the wind, a condition which prevented fine shooting; and now and
again, as we drew closer, we could see the bullets zip-zipping from
wave to wave.
¡¡¡¡The boat we were pursuing had squared away and was running before
the wind to escape us, and, in the course of its flight, to take
part in repulsing our general boat attack.
¡¡¡¡Attending to sheets and tacks now left me little time to see what
was taking place, but I happened to be on the poop when Wolf Larsen
ordered the two strange sailors forward and into the forecastle,
They went sullenly, but they went. He next ordered Miss Brewster
below, and smiled at the instant horror that leapt into her eyes.
¡¡¡¡'You'll find nothing gruesome down there,' he said. 'Only an
unhurt man securely made fast to the ring-bolts. Bullets are liable to
come aboard, and I don't want you killed, you know.'
¡¡¡¡Even as he spoke, a bullet was deflected by a brass-capped spoke
of the wheel between his hands and screeched off through the air to
windward.
¡¡¡¡'You see,' he said to her; and then to me, 'Mr. Van Weyden, will you
take the wheel?'
¡¡¡¡Maud Brewster had stepped inside the companionway, so that only
her head was exposed. Wolf Larsen had procured a rifle and was
throwing a cartridge into the barrel. I begged her with my eyes to
go below, but she smiled and said:
¡¡¡¡'We may be feeble land-creatures without legs, but we can show
Captain Larsen that we are at least as brave as he.'
¡¡¡¡He gave her a quick look of admiration.
¡¡¡¡'I like you a hundred percent better for that,' he said. 'Books, and
brains, and bravery. You are well rounded- a blue-stocking fit to be
the wife of a pirate chief. Ahem! we'll discuss that later,' he
smiled, as a bullet struck solidly into the cabin wall.
¡¡¡¡I saw his eyes flash golden as he spoke, and I saw the terror
mount in her own.
¡¡¡¡'We are braver,' I hastened to say. 'At least, speaking for
myself, I know I am braver than Captain Larsen.'
¡¡¡¡It was I who was now favored by a quick look. He was wondering if
I was making fun of him. I put three or four spokes over to counteract
a sheer toward the wind on the part of the Ghost, and then steadied
her. Wolf Larsen was still waiting an explanation, and I pointed
down to my knees.
¡¡¡¡'You will observe there,' I said, slight trembling. It is because
I am afraid, the flesh is afraid; and I am afraid in my mind because I
do not wish to die. But my spirit masters the trembling flesh and
the qualms of the mind. I am more than brave: I am courageous. Your
flesh is not afraid. You are not afraid. On the one hand, it costs you
nothing to encounter danger; on the other, it even gives you
delight. You enjoy it. You may be unafraid, Mr. Larsen, but you must
grant that the bravery is mine.'
¡¡¡¡'You're right,' he acknowledged at once. 'I never thought of it in
that way before. But is the opposite true? If you are braver than I,
am I more cowardly than you?'
¡¡¡¡We both laughed at the absurdity, and he dropped down to the deck
and rested his rifle across the rail. The bullets we had received
had traveled nearly a mile, but by now we had cut that distance in
half. He fired three careful shots. The first struck fifty feet to
windward of the boat, the second alongside; and at the third the
boat-steerer let loose his steering-oar and crumpled up in the
bottom of the boat.
¡¡¡¡'I guess that'll fix them,' Wolf Larsen said, rising to his feet. 'I
couldn't afford to let the hunter have it, and there is a chance the
boat-puller doesn't know how to steer. In which case, the hunter
cannot steer and shoot at the same time.'
¡¡¡¡His reasoning was justified, for the boat rushed at once into the
wind, and the hunter sprang aft to take the boat-steerer's place.
There was no more shooting, though the rifles were still cracking
merrily from the other boats.
¡¡¡¡The hunter had managed to get the boat before the wind again, but we
ran down upon it, going at least two feet to its one. A hundred
yards away I saw the boat-puller pass a rifle to the hunter. Wolf
Larsen went amidships and took the coil of the throat-halyards from
its pin. Then he peered over the rail with leveled rifle. Twice I
saw the hunter let go the steering-oar with one hand, reach for his
rifle, and hesitate. We were now alongside and foaming past.
¡¡¡¡'Here, you!' Wolf Larsen cried suddenly to the boat-puller. 'Take
a turn!'
¡¡¡¡At the same time he flung the coil of rope. It struck fairly, nearly
knocking the man over, but he did not obey. Instead, he looked to
his hunter for orders. The hunter, in turn, was in a quandary. His
rifle was between his knees, but if he let go the steering-oar in
order to shoot, the boat would sweep around and collide with the
schooner. Also, he saw Wolf Larsen's rifle bearing upon him and knew
he would be shot before he could get his rifle into play.
¡¡¡¡'Take a turn,' he said quietly to the man.
¡¡¡¡The boat-puller obeyed, taking a turn around the little forward
thwart and paying out the line as it jerked taut. The boat sheered out
with a rush, and the hunter steadied it to a parallel course some
twenty feet from the side of the Ghost.
¡¡¡¡'Now get that sail down and come alongside!' Wolf Larsen ordered.
¡¡¡¡He never let go his rifle, even passing down the tackles with one
hand. When they were fast, bow and stern, and the two uninjured men
prepared to come aboard, the hunter picked up his rifle as if to place
it in a secure position.
¡¡¡¡'Drop it!' Wolf Larsen cried, and the hunter dropped it as though it
were hot and had burned him.
¡¡¡¡Once aboard, the two prisoners hoisted in the boat, and under Wolf
Larsen's direction carried the wounded boat-steerer down into the
forecastle.
¡¡¡¡'If our five boats do as well as you and I have done, we'll have a
pretty full crew,' Wolf Larsen said to me.
¡¡¡¡'The man you shot- he is- I hope?' Maud Brewster quavered.
¡¡¡¡'In the shoulder,' he answered. 'Nothing serious. Mr. Van Weyden
will pull him around as good as ever in three or four weeks'.
¡¡¡¡'But he won't pull those chaps around, from the look of it,' he
added, pointing at the Macedonia's third boat, for which I had been
steering and which was now nearly abreast of us. 'That's Horner's
and Smoke's work. I told them we wanted live men, not carcasses. But
the joy of shooting to hit is a most compelling thing, when once
you've learned how to shoot. Have you ever experienced it, Mr. Van
Weyden?'
¡¡¡¡I shook my head and regarded their work. It had indeed been
bloody, for they had drawn off and joined our other three boats in the
attack on the remaining two of the enemy. The deserted boat was in the
trough of the sea, rolling drunkenly across each comber, its loose
spritsail out at right angles to it and fluttering and flapping in the
wind. The hunter and boat-puller were both lying awkwardly in the
bottom, but the boat-steerer lay across the gunwale, half in and
half out, his arms trailing in the water and his head rolling from
side to side.
¡¡¡¡'Don't look, Miss Brewster, please don't look!' I had begged of her,
and I was glad that she had minded me and been spared the sight.
¡¡¡¡'Head right into the bunch, Mr. Van Weyden,' was Wolf Larsen's
command.
¡¡¡¡As we drew nearer, the firing ceased, and we saw that the fight
was over. The remaining two boats had been captured by our five, and
the seven were grouped together, waiting to be picked up.
¡¡¡¡'Look at that!' I cried involuntarily, pointing to the northeast.
¡¡¡¡The blot of smoke which indicated the Macedonia's position had
reappeared.
¡¡¡¡'Yes, I've been watching it,' was Wolf Larsen's calm reply. He
measured the distance away to the fog-bank, and for an instant
paused to feel the weight of the wind on his cheek. 'We'll make it,
I think; but you can depend upon it that blessed brother of mine has
twigged our little game and is just a-humping for us. Ah, look at
that!'
¡¡¡¡The blot of smoke had suddenly grown larger, and it was very black.
¡¡¡¡'I'll beat you out, though, brother mine,' he chuckled. 'I'll beat
you out, and I hope you no worse than that you rack your old engines
into scrap.'
¡¡¡¡When we hove to, a hasty though orderly confusion reigned. The boats
came aboard from every side at once. As fast as the prisoners came
over the rail they were marshaled forward into the forecastle by our
hunters, while our sailors hoisted in the boats, dropping them
anywhere upon the deck and not stopping to lash them. We were
already under way, all sails set and drawing, and the sheets being
slacked off for a wind abeam, as the last boat lifted clear of the
water and swung in the tackles.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX.
¡¡¡¡THERE WAS NEED FOR HASTE. The Macedonia, belching the blackest of
smoke from her funnel, was charging down upon us from out of the
northeast. Neglecting the boats that remained to her, she had
altered her course so as to anticipate ours. She was not running
straight for us, but ahead of us. Our courses were converging like the
sides of an angle, the vertex of which was at the edge of the
fog-bank. It was there, or not at all, that the Macedonia could hope
to catch us. The hope for the Ghost lay in that she should pass that
point before the Macedonia arrived at it.
¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen was steering, his eyes glistening and snapping as they
dwelt upon and leapt from detail to detail of the chase. Now he
studied the sea to windward for signs of the wind slackening or
freshening, now the Macedonia; and, again, his eyes roved over every
sail, and he gave commands to slack a sheet here a trifle, to come
in on one there a trifle, till he was drawing out of the Ghost the
last bit of speed she possessed. All feuds and grudges were forgotten,
and I was surprised at the alacrity with which the men who had so long
endured his brutality sprang to execute his orders. Strange to say,
the unfortunate Johnson came into my mind as we lifted and surged
and heeled along, and I was aware of a regret that he was not alive
and present; he had so loved the Ghost and delighted in her sailing
powers.
¡¡¡¡'Better get your rifles, you fellows,' Wolf Larsen called to our
hunters; and the five men lined the lee rail, guns in hand, and
waited.
¡¡¡¡The Macedonia was now but a mile away, the black smoke pouring
from her funnel at a right angle, so madly she raced, pounding through
the sea at a seventeen-knot gait- '"sky-hooting through the brine,"'
as Wolf Larsen quoted while gazing at her. We were not making more
than nine knots, but the fog-bank was very near.
¡¡¡¡A puff of smoke broke from the Macedonia's deck, we heard a heavy
report, and a round hole took form in the stretched canvas of our
mainsail. They were shooting at us with one of the small cannon
which rumor had said they carried on board. Our men, clustering
amidships, waved their hats and raised a derisive cheer. Again there
was a puff of smoke and a loud report, this time the cannonball
striking not more than twenty feet astern and glancing twice from
sea to sea to windward before it sank.
¡¡¡¡But there was no rifle-firing, for the reason that all their hunters
were out in the boats or our prisoners. When the two vessels were half
a mile apart, a third shot made another hole in our mainsail. Then
we entered the fog. It was about us, veiling and hiding us in its
dense wet gauze.
¡¡¡¡The sudden transition was startling. The moment before we had been
leaping through the sunshine, the clear sky above us, the sea breaking
and rolling wide to the horizon, and a ship, vomiting smoke and fire
and iron missiles, rushing madly upon us. And at once, as in an
instant's leap, the sun was blotted out, there was no sky, even our
mastheads were lost to view, and our horizon was such as
tear-blinded eyes may see. The gray mist drove by us like a rain.
Every woolen filament of our garments, every hair of our heads and
faces, was jeweled with a crystal globule. The shrouds were wet with
moisture; it dripped from our rigging overhead; and on the under
side of our booms, drops of water took shape in long swaying lines,
which were detached and flung to the deck in mimic showers at each
surge of the schooner. I was aware of a pent, stifled feeling. As
the sounds of the ship thrusting herself through the waves were hurled
back upon us by the fog, so were one's thoughts. The mind recoiled
from contemplation of a world beyond this wet veil which wrapped us
around. This was the world, the universe itself, its bounds so near
that one felt impelled to reach out both arms and push them back. It
was impossible that the rest could be beyond these walls of gray.
The rest was a dream, no more than the memory of a dream.
¡¡¡¡It was weird, strangely weird. I looked at Maud Brewster and knew
that she was similarly affected. Then I looked at Wolf Larsen, but
there was nothing subjective about his state of consciousness. His
whole concern was with the immediate, objective present. He still held
the wheel, and I felt that he was timing Time, reckoning the passage
of the minutes with each forward lunge and leeward roll of the Ghost.
¡¡¡¡'Go for'ard and hard alee without any noise,' he said to me in a low
voice. 'Clew up the topsails first. Set men at all the sheets. Let
there be no rattling of blocks, no sound of voices. No noise,
understand, no noise.'
¡¡¡¡When all was ready, the word, 'Hard alee,' was passed forward to
me from man to man; and the Ghost heeled about on the port tack with
virtually no noise at all. And what little there was- the slapping
of a few reef-points and the creaking of a sheave in a block or two-
was ghostly under the hollow echoing pall in which we were swathed.
¡¡¡¡We had scarcely filled away, it seemed, when the fog thinned
abruptly and we were again in the sunshine, the wide-stretching sea
breaking before us to the skyline. But the ocean was bare. No wrathful
Macedonia broke its surface or blackened the sky with her smoke.
¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen at once squared away and ran down along the rim of the
fog-bank. His trick was obvious. He had entered the fog to windward of
the steamer, and while the steamer had blindly driven on into the
fog in the chance of catching him, he had come about and out of his
shelter and was now running down to reenter to leeward. Successful
in this, the old simile of the needle in the haystack would be mild
indeed compared with his brother's chance of finding him.
¡¡¡¡He did not run long. Jibing the fore-and mainsails and setting the
topsails again, we headed back into the bank. As we entered I could
have sworn I saw a vague bulk emerging to windward. I looked quickly
at Wolf Larsen. Already we were ourselves buried in the fog, but he
nodded his head. He, too, had seen it- the Macedonia, guessing his
maneuver and failing for a moment in anticipating it. There was no
doubt that we had escaped unseen.
¡¡¡¡'He can't keep this up,' Wolf Larsen said. 'He'll have to go back
for the rest of his boats. Send a man to the wheel, Mr. Van Weyden,
keep this course for the present, and you might as well set the
watches, for we won't do any lingering tonight.
¡¡¡¡'I'd give five hundred dollars, though,' he added, 'just to be
aboard the Macedonia for five minutes, listening to my brother curse.
¡¡¡¡'And now, Mr. Van Weyden,' he said to me when he had been relieved
from the wheel, 'we must make these newcomers welcome. Serve out
plenty of whisky to the hunters and see that a few bottles slip
for'ard. I'll wager every man Jack of them is over the side
tomorrow, hunting for Wolf Larsen as contentedly as ever they hunted
for Death Larsen.'
¡¡¡¡'But won't they escape as Wainwright did?' I asked.
¡¡¡¡He laughed shrewdly. 'Not as long as our old hunters have anything
to say about it. I'm dividing amongst them a dollar a skin for all the
skins shot by our new hunters. At least half of their enthusiasm today
was due to that, Oh, no, there won't be any escaping if they have
anything to say about it. And now you'd better get for'ard to your
hospital duties. There must be a full ward waiting for you.'
¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen took the distribution of the whisky off my hands, and
the bottles began to make their appearance while I worked over the
fresh batch of wounded men in the forecastle. I had seen whisky drunk,
such as whisky and soda by the men of the clubs, but never as these
men drank it, from pannikins and mugs, and from the bottles- great
brimming drinks, each one of which was in itself a debauch. But they
did not stop at one or two. They drank and drank, and ever the bottles
slipped forward and they drank more.
¡¡¡¡Everybody drank; the wounded drank; Oofty-Oofty, who helped me,
drank. Only Louis refrained, no more than cautiously wetting his
lips with the liquor, though he joined in the revels with an abandon
equal to that of most of them. It was a Saturnalia. In loud voices
they shouted over the day's fighting, wrangled about details, or waxed
affectionate and made friends with the men whom they had fought.
Prisoners and captors hiccoughed on one another's shoulders, and swore
mighty oaths of respect and esteem. They wept over the miseries of the
past, and over the miseries yet to come under the iron rule of Wolf
Larsen. And all cursed him and told terrible tales of his brutality.
¡¡¡¡It was a strange and frightful spectacle- the small, bunk-lined
space, the floor and walls leaping and lurching, the dim light, the
swaying shadows lengthening and foreshortening monstrously, the
thick air heavy with smoke and the smell of bodies and iodoform, and
the inflamed faces of the men- half-men, I should call them. I noted
Oofty-Oofty, holding the end of a bandage and looking upon the
scene, his velvety and luminous eyes glistening in the light like
those of a deer; and yet I knew the barbaric devil that lurked in
his breast and belied all the softness and tenderness, almost womanly,
of his face and form. And I noticed the boyish face of Harrison,- a
good face once, but now a demon's,- convulsed with passion as he
told the newcomers of the hell-ship they were in and shrieked curses
upon the head of Wolf Larsen.
¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen it was, always Wolf Larsen, enslaver and tormentor of
men, a male Circe and these his swine, suffering brutes that
groveled before him and revolted only in drunkenness and in secrecy.
And was I, too, one of his swine? I thought. And Maud Brewster? No!
I ground my teeth in my anger and determination till the man I was
attending winced under my hand and Oofty-Oofty looked at me with
curiosity. I felt endowed with a sudden strength. What with my
new-found love, I was a giant. I feared nothing. I would work my
will through it all, in spite of Wolf Larsen and of my own thirty-five
bookish years. All would be well. I would make it well. And so,
exalted, upborne by a sense of power, I turned my back on the
howling inferno and climbed to the deck, where the fog drifted ghostly
through the night, and the air was sweet and pure and quiet.
¡¡¡¡The steerage, where were two wounded hunters, was a repetition of
the forecastle, except that Wolf Larsen was not being cursed; and it
was with a great relief that I again emerged on deck and went aft to
the cabin. Supper was ready, and Wolf Larsen and Maud were waiting for
me.
¡¡¡¡While all his ship was getting drunk as fast as it could, Larsen
remained sober. Not a drop of liquor passed his lips. He did not
dare it under the circumstances, for he had only Louis and me to
depend upon, and Louis was even now at the wheel. We were sailing on
through the fog without a lookout and without lights. That Wolf Larsen
had turned the liquor loose among his men surprised me, but he
evidently knew their psychology and the best method of cementing in
cordiality what had begun in bloodshed.
¡¡¡¡His victory over Death Larsen seemed to have had a remarkable effect
upon him. The previous evening he has reasoned himself into the blues,
and I had been waiting momentarily for one of his characteristic
outbursts. Yet nothing had occurred, and he was now in splendid
trim. Possibly his success in capturing so many hunters and boats
had counteracted the customary reaction. At any rate, the blues were
gone, and the blue devils had not put in an appearance. So I thought
at the time; but, ah me! little I knew him or knew that even then,
perhaps, he was meditating an outbreak more terrible than any I had
seen.
¡¡¡¡As I say, he discovered himself in splendid trim when I entered
the cabin. He had had no headaches for weeks, his eyes were as clear
blue as the sky, his bronze skin was beautiful with perfect health;
life swelled through his veins in full and magnificent flood. While
waiting for me he had engaged Maud in animated discussion.
Temptation was the topic they had hit upon, and from the few words I
heard I made out that he was contending that temptation was temptation
only when a man was seduced by it and fell.
¡¡¡¡'For look you,' he was saying, 'as I see it, a man does things
because of desire. He has many desires. He may desire to escape
pain, or to enjoy pleasure. But whatever he does, he does because he
desires to do it.'
¡¡¡¡'But suppose he desires to do two opposite things, neither of
which will permit him to do the other?' Maud interrupted.
¡¡¡¡'The very thing I was coming to,' he said.
¡¡¡¡'And between these two desires is just where the soul of the man
is manifest,' she went on. 'If it is a good soul it will desire and do
the good action, and the contrary if it is a bad soul. It is the
soul that decides.'
¡¡¡¡'Bosh and nonsense!' he exclaimed impatiently. 'It is the desire
that decides. Here is a man who wants to, say, get drunk. Also, he
doesn't want to get drunk. What does he do? How does he do it? He is a
puppet. He is the creature of his desires, and of the two desires he
obeys the stronger one, that is all. His soul hasn't anything to do
with it. How can he be tempted to get drunk and refuse to get drunk?
If the desire to remain sober prevails, it is because it was the
stronger desire. Temptation plays no part, unless-' he paused while
grasping the new thought which had come into his mind- 'unless he is
tempted to remain sober.
¡¡¡¡'Ha! ha!' he laughed. 'What do you think of that, Mr. Van Weyden?'
¡¡¡¡'That both of you are hair-splitting,' I said. 'The man's soul is
his desires. Or, if you will, the sum of his desires is his soul.
Therein you are both wrong. You lay the stress upon the desire apart
from the soul, Miss Brewster lays the stress on the soul apart from
the desire, and in point of fact soul and desire are the same thing.
¡¡¡¡'However,' I continued, 'Miss Brewster is right in contending that
temptation is temptation whether the man yield or overcome. Fire is
fanned by the wind until it leaps up fiercely. So is desire like fire.
It is fanned, as by a wind, by sight of the thing desired, or by a new
and luring description or comprehension of the thing desired. There
lies the temptation. It is the wind that fans the desire until it
leaps up to mastery. That's temptation. It may not fan sufficiently to
make the desire overmastering, but in so far as it fans at all, that
far is it temptation. And, as you say, it may tempt for good as well
as for evil.'
¡¡¡¡I felt proud of myself as we sat down to the table. My words had
been decisive. At least, they had put an end to the discussion.
¡¡¡¡But Wolf Larsen seemed voluble, prone to speech as I had never
seen him before. It was as though he were bursting with pent energy
which must find an outlet somehow. Almost immediately he launched into
a discussion on love. As usual, his was the sheer materialistic
side, and Maud's was the idealistic. For myself, beyond a word or so
of suggestion or correction now and again, I took no part.
¡¡¡¡He was brilliant, but so was Maud; and for some time I lost the
thread of the conversation through studying her face as she talked. It
was a face that rarely displayed color, but tonight it was flushed and
vivacious. Her wit was playing keenly, and she was enjoying the tilt
as much as Wolf Larsen, and he was enjoying it hugely. For some
reason, though I knew not why in the argument, so utterly had I lost
it in the contemplation of one stray brown lock of Maud's hair, he
quoted from 'Iseult at Tintagel,' where she says:
¡¡¡¡ Blessed am I beyond women even herein,
¡¡¡¡ That beyond all born women is my sin,
¡¡¡¡ And perfect my transgression.
¡¡¡¡As he had read pessimism into Omar, so, now, he read triumph,
stinging triumph and exultation, into Swinburne's lines. And he read
rightly, and he read well. He had hardly ceased quoting when Louis put
his head into the companionway and whispered down:
¡¡¡¡'Be easy, will ye? The fog's lifted, an' 't is the port light iv a
steamer that's crossin' our bow this blessed minute.'
¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen sprang on deck, and so swiftly that by the time we
followed him he had pulled the steerage-slide over the drunken
clamor and was on his way forward to close the forecastle scuttle. The
fog, though it remained, had lifted high, where it obscured the
stars and made the night quite black. Directly ahead of us I could see
a bright red light and a white light, and I could hear the pulsing
of a steamer's engines. Beyond a doubt it was the Macedonia.
¡¡¡¡Wolf Larsen had returned to the poop, and we stood in a silent
group, watching the lights rapidly cross our bow.
¡¡¡¡'Lucky for me he doesn't carry a search-light,' Wolf Larsen said.
¡¡¡¡'What if I should cry out loudly?' I queried in a whisper.
¡¡¡¡'It would be all up,' he answered.
¡¡¡¡'But have you thought upon what would immediately happen?'
¡¡¡¡Before I had time to express any desire to know, he had me by the
throat with his gorilla-grip, and by a faint quiver of the muscles-
a hint, as it were- he suggested to me the twist that would surely
have broken my neck. The next moment he had released me, and we were
gazing at the Macedonia's lights.
¡¡¡¡'What if I should cry out?' Maud asked.
¡¡¡¡'I like you too well to hurt you,' he said softly- nay, there was
a tenderness and a caress in his voice that made me wince. 'But
don't do it just the same, for I'd promptly break Mr. Van Weyden's
neck.'
¡¡¡¡'Then she has my permission to cry out,' I said defiantly.
¡¡¡¡'I hardly think you'll care to sacrifice the Dean of American
Letters the Second,' he sneered.
¡¡¡¡We spoke no more, though we had become too used to each other for
the silence to be awkward; and when the red light and the white had
disappeared we returned to the cabin to finish the interrupted supper.
¡¡¡¡Again they fell to quoting, and Maud gave Dowson's 'Impenitentia
Ultima.' She rendered it beautifully, but I watched not her, but
Wolf Larsen. I was fascinated by the fascinated look he bent upon
Maud. He was quite out of himself, and I noticed the unconscious
movement of his lips as he shaped word for word as fast as she uttered
them. He interrupted her when she gave the lines:
¡¡¡¡ And her eyes should be my light while the sun went out behind me,
¡¡¡¡ And the viols in her voice be the last sound in my ear.
¡¡¡¡'There are viols in your voice,' he said bluntly, and his eyes
flashed their golden light.
¡¡¡¡I could have shouted with joy at her control. She finished the
concluding stanza without faltering, and then slowly guided the
conversation into less perilous channels. And all the while I sat in a
half-daze, the drunken riot of the steerage breaking through the
bulkhead, the man I feared and the woman I loved talking on and on.
The table was not cleared. The man who had taken Mugridge's place
had evidently joined his comrades in the forecastle.
¡¡¡¡If ever Wolf Larsen attained the summit of living, he attained it
then. From time to time I forsook my own thoughts to follow him; and I
followed in amaze, mastered for the moment by his remarkable
intellect, under the spell of his passion, for he was preaching the
passion of revolt. It was inevitable that Milton's Lucifer should be
instanced, and the keenness with which Wolf Larsen analyzed and
depicted the character was a revelation of his stifled genius. It
reminded me of Taine, yet I knew the man had never heard of that
brilliant though dangerous thinker.
¡¡¡¡'He led a lost cause, and he was not afraid of God's
thunderbolts,' Wolf Larsen was saying. 'Hurled into hell, he was
unbeaten. A third of God's angels he had led with him, and straightway
he incited man to rebel against God and gained for himself and hell
the major portion of all the generations of man. Why was he beaten out
of heaven? Because he was less brave than God? Less proud? Less
aspiring? No! A thousand times no! God was more powerful, as he
said, whom thunder hath made greater. But Luficer was a free spirit.
To serve was to suffocate. He preferred suffering in freedom to all
the happiness of a comfortable servility. He did not care to serve
God. He cared to serve nothing. He was no figurehead. He stood on
his own legs. He was an individual.'
¡¡¡¡'The first anarchist,' Maud laughed, rising and preparing to
withdraw to her state-room.
¡¡¡¡'Then it is good to be an anarchist,' he cried. He, too, had
risen, and he stood facing her, where she had paused at the door of
her room, as he went on:
¡¡¡¡ Here at least
¡¡¡¡ We shall be free; the Almighty hath not built
¡¡¡¡ Here for his envy; will not drive us hence;
¡¡¡¡ Here we may reign secure; and in my choice
¡¡¡¡ To reign is worth ambition, though in hell;
¡¡¡¡ Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven.
¡¡¡¡It was the defiant cry of a mighty spirit. The cabin still rang with
his voice, as he stood there, swaying, his bronzed face shining, his
head up and dominant, and his eyes, golden and masculine, intensely
masculine and insistently soft, flashing upon Maud at the door.
¡¡¡¡Again that unnamable and unmistakable terror was in her eyes, and
she said, almost in a whisper, 'You are Lucifer.'
¡¡¡¡The door closed, and she was gone. He stood staring after her for
a minute, then returned to himself and to me.
¡¡¡¡'I'll relieve Louis at the wheel,' he said shortly, 'and call upon
you to relieve at midnight. Better turn in now and get some sleep.'
¡¡¡¡He pulled on a pair of mittens, put on his cap, and ascended the
companion-stairs, while I followed his suggestion by going to bed. For
some unknown reason, prompted mysteriously, I did not undress, but lay
down fully clothed. For a time I listened to the clamor in the
steerage and marveled upon the love which had come to me; but my sleep
on the Ghost had become most healthful and natural, and soon the songs
and cries died away, my eyes closed, and my consciousness sank down
into the half-death of slumber.
¡¡¡¡I knew not what had aroused me, but I found myself out of my bunk,
on my feet, wide awake, my soul vibrating to the warning of danger
as it might have thrilled to a trumpet call. I threw open the door.
The cabin light was burning low. I saw Maud, straining and
struggling and crushed in the embrace of Wolf Larsen's arms. Her
face was forcibly upturned. I could see the vain beat and flutter of
her as she strove, by pressing her face against his breast, to
escape his lips. All this I saw on the very instant of seeing and as I
sprang forward.
¡¡¡¡I struck him with my fist, on the face, as he raised his head, but
it was a puny blow. He roared in a ferocious, animal-like way and gave
me a shove with his hand. It was only a shove, a flirt of the wrist,
yet so tremendous was his strength that I was hurled backward as
from a catapult. I struck the door of the state-room that had formerly
been Mugridge's, splintering and smashing the panels with the impact
of my body. I struggled to my feet, with difficulty dragging myself
clear of the wrecked door, unaware of any hurt whatever. I was
conscious only of an overmastering rage. I think I, too, cried
aloud, as I drew the knife at my hip and sprang forward a second time.
¡¡¡¡But something had happened. They were reeling apart. I was close
upon him, my knife uplifted, but I withheld the blow. I was puzzled by
the strangeness of it. Maud was leaning against the wall, one hand out
for support; but he was staggering, his left hand pressed against
his forehead and covering his eyes, and with the right he was
groping about him in a dazed sort of way. It struck against the
wall, and his body seemed to express a muscular and physical relief at
the contact, as though he had found his bearings, his location in
space, as well as something against which to lean.
¡¡¡¡Then I saw red again. All my wrongs and humiliations flashed upon me
with a dazzling brightness, all that I had suffered and others had
suffered at his hands, all the enormity of the man's very existence. I
sprang upon him, blindly, insanely, and drove the knife into his
shoulder. I knew, then, that it was no more than a flesh-wound,- I had
felt the steel grate on his shoulder-blade,- and I raised the knife to
strike at a more vital part.
¡¡¡¡But Maud had seen my first blow, and she cried, 'Don't! Please
don't!'
¡¡¡¡I dropped my arm for a moment, and for a moment only. Again the
knife was raised, and Wolf Larsen would have surely died had she not
stepped between. Her arms were around me, her hair was brushing my
face. My pulse rushed up in an unwonted manner, yet my rage mounted
with it. She looked me bravely in the eyes.
¡¡¡¡'For my sake,' she begged.
¡¡¡¡'I would kill him for your sake!' I cried, trying to free my arm
without hurting her.
¡¡¡¡'Hush!' she said, and laid her fingers lightly on my lips. I could
have kissed them, had I dared, even then in my rage, the touch of them
was so sweet, so very sweet. 'Please, please,' she pleaded, and she
disarmed me by the words, as I was to discover they would ever
disarm me.
¡¡¡¡I stepped back, separating her, and replaced the knife in its
sheath. I looked at Wolf Larsen. He still pressed his left hand
against his forehead. It covered his eyes. His head was bowed. He
seemed to have grown limp. His body was sagging at the hips, his great
shoulders were drooping and shrinking forward.
¡¡¡¡'Van Weyden!' he called hoarsely, and with a note of fright in his
voice. 'Oh, Van Weyden, where are you?'
¡¡¡¡I looked at Maud. She did not speak, but nodded her head.
¡¡¡¡'Here I am,' I answered, stepping to his side. 'What is the matter?'
¡¡¡¡'Help me to a seat,' he said, in the same hoarse, frightened voice.
¡¡¡¡'I am a sick man, a very sick man, Hump,' he said, as he left my
sustaining grip and sank into a chair.
¡¡¡¡His head dropped forward on the table and was buried in his hands.
From time to time it rocked back and forward as with pain. Once,
when he half raised it, I saw the sweat standing in heavy drops on his
forehead about the roots of his hair.
¡¡¡¡'I am a sick man, a very sick man,' he repeated again, and yet
once again.
¡¡¡¡'What is the matter?' I asked, resting my hand on his shoulder.
'What can I do for you?'
¡¡¡¡But he shook my hand off with an irritated movement, and for a
long time I stood by his side in silence. Maud was looking on, her
face awed and frightened. What had happened to him we could not
imagine.
¡¡¡¡'Hump,' he said at last, 'I must get into my bunk. Lend me a hand.
I'll be all right in a little while. It's those d- headaches, I
believe. I was afraid of them. I had a feeling- no, I don't know
what I'm talking about. Help me into my bunk.'
¡¡¡¡But when I got him into his bunk he again buried his face in his
hands, covering his eyes, and as I turned to go I could hear him
murmuring, 'I am a sick man, a very sick man.'
¡¡¡¡Maud looked at me inquiringly as I emerged. I shook my head, saying:
¡¡¡¡'Something has happened to him. What, I don't know. He is
helpless, and frightened, I imagine, for the first time in his life.
It must have happened before he received the knife-thrust, which
made only a superficial wound. You must have seen what happened.'
¡¡¡¡She shook her head. 'I saw nothing. It is just as mysterious to
me. He suddenly released me and staggered away. But what shall we
do? What shall I do?'
¡¡¡¡'Wait until I come back,' I answered.
¡¡¡¡I went on deck. Louis was at the wheel.
¡¡¡¡'You may go for'ard and turn in,' I said, taking it from him.
¡¡¡¡He was quick to obey, and I found myself alone on the deck of the
Ghost. As quietly as was possible, I clewed up the topsails, lowered
the flying jib and staysail, backed the jib over, and flattened the
mainsail. Then I went below to Maud. I placed my finger on my lips for
silence, and entered Wolf Larsen's room. He was in the same position
in which I had left him, and his head was rocking- almost writhing-
from side to side.
¡¡¡¡'Anything I can do for you?' I asked.
¡¡¡¡He made no reply at first, but on my repeating the question he
answered: 'No, no; I'm all right. Leave me alone till morning.'
¡¡¡¡But as I turned to go I noted that his head had resumed its
rocking motion. Maud was waiting patiently for me, and I took
notice, with a thrill of joy, of the queenly poise of her head and her
glorious calm eyes. Calm and sure they were as her spirit itself.
¡¡¡¡'Will you trust yourself to me for a journey of six hundred miles or
so?' I asked.
¡¡¡¡'You mean-?' she asked, and I knew she had guessed aright.
¡¡¡¡'Yes, I mean just that,' I replied. 'Nothing is left for us but
the open boat.'
¡¡¡¡'For me, you mean,' she said. 'You are certainly as safe here as you
have been.'
¡¡¡¡'No, there is nothing left for us but the open boat,' I iterated
stoutly. 'Dress as warmly as you can, at once, and make into a
bundle whatever you wish to bring with you. And make all haste,' I
added, as she turned toward her stateroom.
¡¡¡¡The lazaret was directly beneath the cabin, and, opening the
trap-door in the floor and carrying a candle with me, I dropped down
and began overhauling the ship's stores. I selected mainly from the
canned goods, and by the time I was ready willing hands were
extended from above to receive what I passed up.
¡¡¡¡We worked in silence. I helped myself also to blankets, mittens,
oilskins, caps, and such things, from the slop-chest. It was no
light adventure, this trusting ourselves in a small boat to so raw and
stormy a sea, and it was imperative that we should guard ourselves
against the cold and wet.
¡¡¡¡We worked feverishly at carrying our plunder on deck and
depositing it amidships, so feverishly that Maud, whose strength was
hardly a positive quantity, had to give over, exhausted, and sit on
the steps at the break of the poop. This did not serve to recover her,
and she lay on her back, on the hard deck, arms stretched out and
whole body relaxed. It was a trick I remembered of my sister, and I
knew she would soon be herself again. I reentered Wolf Larsen's
state-room to get his rifle and shotgun. I spoke to him, but he made
no answer, though his head was still rocking from side to side and
he was not asleep.
¡¡¡¡Next to obtain was a stock of ammunition- an easy matter, though I
had to enter the steerage companionway to do it. Here the hunters
stored the ammunition-boxes they carried in the boats, and here, but a
few feet from their noisy revels, I took possession of two boxes.
¡¡¡¡Next, to lower a boat. Not so simple a task for one man. Having cast
off the lashings, I hoisted first on the forward tackle, then on the
aft, till the boat cleared the rail, when I lowered away, one tackle
and then the other, for a couple of feet, till it hung snugly, above
the water, against the schooner's side. I made certain that it
contained the proper equipment of oars, rowlocks, and sail. Water
was a consideration, and I robbed every boat aboard of its breaker. As
there were nine boats all told, it meant that we should have plenty of
water, and ballast as well, though there was the chance that the
boat would be overloaded, with the generous supply of other things I
was taking.
¡¡¡¡While Maud was passing me the provisions and I was storing them in
the boat, a sailor came on deck from the forecastle. He stood by the
weather rail for a time (we were lowering over the lee rail), and then
sauntered slowly amidships, where he again paused and stood facing the
wind, with his back toward us. I could hear my heart beating as I
crouched low in the boat. Maud had sunk down upon the deck and was,
I knew, lying motionless, her body in the shadow of the bulwark. But
the man never turned, and after stretching his arms above his head and
yawning audibly, he retraced his steps to the forecastle scuttle and
disappeared.
¡¡¡¡A few minutes sufficed to finish the loading, and I lowered the boat
into the water. As I helped Maud over the rail, and felt her form
close to mine, it was all I could do to keep from crying out, 'I
love you! I love you!' Truly, Humphrey Van Weyden was at last in love,
I thought, as her fingers clung to mine while I lowered her to the
boat. I held on to the rail with one hand and supported her weight
with the other, and I was proud at the moment of the feat. It was a
strength I had not possessed a few months before, on the day I said
good-by to Charley Furuseth and started for San Francisco on the
ill-fated Martinez.
¡¡¡¡As the boat ascended on a sea, her feet touched and I released her
hands. I cast off the tackles and leapt after her. I had never rowed
in my life, but I put out the oars, and at the expense of much
effort got the boat clear of the Ghost. Then I experimented with the
sail. I had seen the boat-steerers and hunters set their sprit-sails
many times, yet this was my first attempt. What took them possibly two
minutes took me twenty, but in the end I succeeded in setting and
trimming it, and with the steering-oar in my hands hauled on the wind.
¡¡¡¡'There lies Japan,' I remarked, 'straight before us.'
¡¡¡¡'Humphrey Van Weyden,' she said, 'you are a brave man.'
¡¡¡¡'Nay,' I answered; 'it is you who are a brave woman.'
¡¡¡¡We turned our heads, swayed by a common impulse to see the last of
the Ghost. Her low hull lifted and rolled to windward on a sea; her
canvas loomed darkly in the night; her lashed wheel creaked as the
rudder kicked; then sight and sound of her faded away, and we were
alone on the dark sea.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN.
¡¡¡¡DAY BROKE, GRAY AND CHILL. The boat was close-hauled on a fresh
breeze, and the compass indicated that it was making just the course
that would bring it to Japan. Though stoutly mittened, my fingers were
cold, and they pained from the grip on the steering-oar. My feet
were stinging from the bite of the frost, and I hoped fervently that
the sun would shine.
¡¡¡¡Before me, in the bottom of the boat, lay Maud. She, at least, was
warm, for under her and over her were thick blankets. The top one I
had drawn over her face to shelter it from the night, so I could see
nothing but the vague shape of her, and her light-brown hair,
escaped from the covering and jeweled with moisture from the air.
¡¡¡¡Long I looked at her, dwelling upon that one visible bit of her as
only a man would who deemed it the most precious thing in the world.
So insistent was my gaze that at last she stirred under the
blankets, the top fold was thrown back, and she smiled out on me,
her eyes yet heavy with sleep.
¡¡¡¡'Good morning, Mr. Van Weyden,' she said. 'Have you sighted land
yet?'
¡¡¡¡'No,' I answered, 'but we are approaching it at a rate of six
miles an hour.'
¡¡¡¡She made a moue of disappointment.
¡¡¡¡'But that is equivalent to one hundred and forty-four miles in
twenty-four hours,' I added reassuringly.
¡¡¡¡Her face brightened. 'And how far have we to go?'
¡¡¡¡'Siberia lies off there,' I said, pointing to the west. 'But to
the southwest, some six hundred miles, is Japan. If this wind should
hold, we'll make it in five days.'
¡¡¡¡'If it storms? The boat could not live?'
¡¡¡¡She had a way of looking one in the eyes and demanding the truth,
and thus she looked at me as she asked the question.
¡¡¡¡'It would have to storm very hard,' I temporized.
¡¡¡¡'And if it storms very hard?'
¡¡¡¡I nodded my head. 'But we may be picked up any moment by a
sealing-schooner. They are plentifully distributed over this part of
the ocean.'
¡¡¡¡'Why, you are chilled through!' she cried. 'Look! You are shivering.
Don't deny it; you are. And here I have been lying warm as toast.'
¡¡¡¡'I don't see that it would help matters if you, too, sat up and were
chilled,' I laughed.
¡¡¡¡'It will, though, when I learn to steer, which I certainly shall.'
¡¡¡¡She sat up and began making her simple toilet. She shook down her
hair, and it fell about her in a brown cloud, hiding her face and
shoulders. Dear, damp brown hair! I wanted to kiss it, to ripple it
through my fingers, to bury my face in it. I gazed entranced, till the
boat ran into the wind, and the flapping sail warned me I was not
attending to my duties. Idealist and romanticist that I was and always
had been in spite of my analytical nature, yet I had failed till now
in grasping much of the physical characteristics of love. The love
of man and woman, I had always held, was a sublimated something
related to spirit, a spiritual bond that linked and drew their souls
together. The bonds of the flesh had no part in my cosmos of love. But
I was learning the sweet lesson for myself that the soul transmuted
itself, expressed itself, through the flesh; that the sight and
sense and touch of the loved one's hair were as much breath and
voice and essence of the spirit as the light that shone from the
eyes and the thoughts that fell from the lips. After all, pure
spirit was unknowable, a thing to be sensed and divined only; nor
could it express itself in terms of itself, Jehovah was
anthropomorphic because he could address himself to the Jews only in
terms of their understanding; so he was conceived as in their own
image, as a cloud, a pillar of fire, a tangible, physical something
which the mind of the Israelites could grasp.
¡¡¡¡And so I gazed upon Maud's light-brown hair, and loved it, and
learned more of love than all the poets and singers had taught me with
all their songs and sonnets. She flung it back with a sudden adroit
movement, and her face emerged, smiling.
¡¡¡¡'Why don't women wear their hair down always?' I asked. 'It is so
much more beautiful.'
¡¡¡¡'If it didn't tangle so dreadfully,' she laughed. 'There! I've
lost one of my precious hairpins!'
¡¡¡¡I neglected the boat and had the sail spilling the wind again and
again, such was my delight in following her every movement as she
searched through the blankets for the pin. I was surprised, and
joyfully, that she was so much the woman, and the display of each
trait and mannerism that was characteristically feminine gave me
keener joy. For I had been elevating her too highly in my concepts
of her, removing her too far from the plane of the human and too far
from me. I had been making of her a creature goddess-like and
unapproachable. So I hailed with delight the little traits that
proclaimed her only woman after all, such as the toss of the head
which flung back the cloud of hair, and the search for the pin. She
was woman, my kind, on my plane, and the delightful intimacy of
kind, of man and woman, was possible, as well as the reverence and awe
in which I knew I should always hold her.
¡¡¡¡She found the pin with an adorable little cry, and I turned my
attention more fully to my steering. I proceeded to experiment,
lashing and wedging the steering-oar until the boat held on fairly
well by the wind without my assistance. Occasionally it came up too
close, or fell off too freely; but it always recovered itself and in
the main behaved satisfactorily.
¡¡¡¡'And now we shall have breakfast,' I said. 'But first you must be
more warmly clad.'
¡¡¡¡I got out a heavy shirt, new from the slop-chest and made from
blanket goods. I knew the kind, so thick and so close of texture
that it could resist the rain and not be soaked through after hours of
wetting. When she had slipped this on over her head, I exchanged the
boy's cap she wore for a man's cap, large enough to cover her hair,
and, when the flap was turned down, to cover completely her neck and
ears. The effect was charming. Her face was of the sort that cannot
but look well under all circumstances. Nothing could destroy its
exquisite oval, its well-nigh classic lines, its delicately
stenciled brows, and its large brown eyes, clear-seeing and calm,
gloriously calm.
¡¡¡¡Just then a puff, slightly stronger than usual, struck us. The
boat was caught as it obliquely crossed the crest of a wave. It went
over suddenly, burying its gunwale level with the sea and shipping a
bucketful or so of water. I was opening a can of tongue at the moment,
and I sprang to the sheet and cast it off just in time. The sail
flapped and fluttered, and the boat paid off. A few minutes of
regulating sufficed to put it on its course again, when I returned
to the preparation of breakfast.
¡¡¡¡'It does very well, it seems, though I am not versed in things
nautical,' she said, nodding her head with grave approval at my
steering contrivance.
¡¡¡¡'But it will serve only when we are sailing by the wind,' I
explained. 'When running more freely, with the wind astern, abeam,
or on the quarter, it will be necessary for me to steer.'
¡¡¡¡'I must say I don't understand your technicalities,' she said;
'but I do your conclusion, and I don't like it. You cannot steer night
and day and forever. So I shall expect, after breakfast, to receive my
first lesson. And then you shall lie down and sleep. We'll stand
watches just as they do on ships.'
¡¡¡¡'I don't see how I am to teach you,' I made protest. 'I am just
learning for myself. You little thought when you trusted yourself to
me that I had had no experience whatever with small boats. This is the
first time I have ever been in one.'
¡¡¡¡'Then we'll learn together, sir. And since you've had a night's
start you shall teach me what you have learned. And now, breakfast.
My! this air does give one an appetite!'
¡¡¡¡'No coffee,' I said regretfully, passing her buttered sea-biscuits
and a slice of canned tongue. 'And there will be no tea, no soups,
nothing hot till we have made land somewhere, somehow.'
¡¡¡¡After the simple breakfast, capped with a cup of cold water, Maud
took her lesson in steering. In teaching her I learned quite a deal
myself, though I was applying the knowledge already acquired by
sailing the Ghost and by watching the boat-steerers sail the small
boats. She was an apt pupil, and soon learned to keep the course, to
luff in the puffs, and to cast off the sheet in an emergency.
¡¡¡¡Having grown tired, apparently, of the task, she relinquished the
oar to me. I had folded up the blankets, but she now proceeded to
spread them out on the bottom. When all was arranged snugly, she said:
¡¡¡¡'Now, sir, to bed. And you shall sleep until luncheon.'
¡¡¡¡'Till dinnertime,' she corrected, remembering the arrangement on the
Ghost.
¡¡¡¡What could I do? She insisted and said, 'Please, please';
whereupon I turned the oar over to her and obeyed. I experienced a
positive sensuous delight as I crawled into the bed she had made
with her hands. The calm and control which were so much a part of
her seemed to have been communicated to the blankets, so that I was
aware of a soft dreaminess and content, and of an oval face and
brown eyes framed in a fisherman's cap and tossing against a
background now of gray cloud, now of gray sea, and then I was aware
that I had been asleep.
¡¡¡¡I looked at my watch. It was one o'clock. I had slept seven hours.
And she had been steering seven hours! When I took the steering-oar
I had first to unbend her cramped fingers. Her modicum of strength had
been exhausted, and she was unable even to move from her position. I
was compelled to let go the sheet while I helped her to the nest of
blankets and chafed her hands and arms.
¡¡¡¡'I am so tired,' she said, with a quick intake of the breath and a
sigh, drooping her head wearily.
¡¡¡¡But she straightened it the next moment. 'Now, don't scold, don't
you dare scold,' she cried, with mock defiance.
¡¡¡¡'I hope my face does not appear angry,' I answered seriously; 'for I
assure you I am not in the least angry.'
¡¡¡¡'N- no,' she considered. 'It looks only reproachful.'
¡¡¡¡'Then it is an honest face, for it looks what I feel. You were not
fair to yourself, nor to me. How can I ever trust you again?'
¡¡¡¡She looked penitent. 'I'll be good,' she said, as a naughty child
might say 'I promise-'
¡¡¡¡'To obey as a sailor would obey his captain?'
¡¡¡¡Yes,' she answered. 'It was stupid of me, I know.'
¡¡¡¡'Then you must promise something else,' I ventured.
¡¡¡¡'Readily.'
¡¡¡¡'That you will not say, "Please, please," too often; for when you do
you are sure to override my authority.'
¡¡¡¡She laughed with amused appreciation. She, too, had noticed the
power of the repeated 'please.'
¡¡¡¡'It is a good word-' I began.
¡¡¡¡'But I must not overwork it,' she said.
¡¡¡¡Then she laughed weakly, and her head drooped again. I left the
oar long enough to tuck the blankets about her feet and to pull a
single fold across her face. Alas! she was not strong. I looked with
misgiving toward the southwest and thought of the six hundred miles of
hardship before us- aye, if it were no worse than hardship. On this
sea a storm might blow up at any moment and destroy us. And yet I
was unafraid. I was without confidence in the future, extremely
doubtful, and yet I felt no underlying fear. 'It must come right, it
must come right,' I repeated to myself over and over again.
¡¡¡¡The wind freshened in the afternoon, raising a stiffer sea and
trying the boat and me severely. But the supply of food and the nine
breakers of water enabled the boat to stand up to the sea and wind,
and I held on as long as I dared. Then I removed the sprit, tightly
hauling down the peak of the sail, and we raced along under what
sailors call a leg-of-mutton.
¡¡¡¡Late in the afternoon I sighted a steamer's smoke on the horizon
to leeward, and I knew it either for a Russian cruiser, or, more
likely, the Macedonia still seeking the Ghost. The sun had not shone
all day, and it had been bitter cold. As night drew on, the clouds
darkened and the wind freshened, so that when Maud and I ate supper it
was with our mittens on and with me still steering and eating
morsels between puffs.
¡¡¡¡By the time it was dark, wind and sea had become too strong for
the boat, and I reluctantly took in the sail and set about making a
drag or sea-anchor. I had learned of the device from the talk of the
hunters, and it was a simple thing to manufacture. Furling the sail
and lashing it securely about the mast, boom, sprit, and two pairs
of spare oars, I threw it overboard. A line connected it with the bow,
and as it floated low in the water, practically unexposed to the wind,
it drifted less rapidly than the boat. In consequence it held the boat
bow on to the sea and wind- the safest position in which to escape
being swamped when the sea is breaking into whitecaps.
¡¡¡¡'And now?' Maud asked cheerfully, when the task was accomplished and
I pulled on my mittens.
¡¡¡¡'And now we are no longer traveling toward Japan,' I answered.
'Our drift is to the southeast, or south-southeast, at the rate of
at least two miles an hour.'
¡¡¡¡'That will be only twenty-four miles,' she urged, 'if the wind
remains high all night.'
¡¡¡¡'Yes, and only one hundred and forty miles if it continues for three
days and nights.'
¡¡¡¡'But it won't continue,' she said, with easy confidence. 'It will
turn around and blow fair.'
¡¡¡¡'The sea is the great faithless one.'
¡¡¡¡'But the wind!' she retorted. 'I have heard you grow eloquent over
the brave trade-wind.'
¡¡¡¡'I wish I had thought to bring Wolf Larsen's chronometer and
sextant,' I said, still gloomily. 'Sailing one direction, drifting
another direction, to say nothing of the set of the current in some
third direction, makes a resultant which dead-reckoning can never
calculate. Before long we shall not know where we are by five
hundred miles.'
¡¡¡¡Then I begged her pardon and promised I would not be disheartened
any more. At her solicitation, I let her take the watch till midnight-
it was then nine o'clock; but I wrapped her in blankets and put an
oilskin about her before I lay down. I slept only catnaps. The boat
was leaping and pounding as it fell over the crests, I could hear
the seas rushing past, and spray was continually being thrown
aboard. And still, it was not a bad night, I mused- nothing to the
nights I had been through on the Ghost, nothing, perhaps, to the
nights we should go through in this cockle-shell. Its planking was
three quarters of an inch thick. Between us and the bottom of the
sea was less than an inch of wood.
¡¡¡¡And yet, I aver it, and I aver it again, I was unafraid. The death
which Wolf Larsen and even Thomas Mugridge had made me fear, I no
longer feared. The coming of Maud Brewster into my life seemed to have
transformed me. After all, I thought, it is better and finer to love
than to be loved, if it makes something in life so worth while that
one is not loath to die for it. I forgot my own life in the love of
another life; and yet, such is the paradox, I never wanted so much
to live as right then when I placed the least value upon my own
life. I never had so much reason for living, was my concluding
thought; and after that, until I dozed, I contented myself with trying
to pierce the darkness to where I knew Maud crouched low in the
stern-sheets, watchful of the foaming sea and ready to call me on
instant's notice.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT.
¡¡¡¡THERE IS NO NEED OF GOING into an extended recital of our
suffering in the small boat during the many days we were driven and
drifted, here and there, willy-nilly, across the ocean. The high
wind blew from the northwest for twenty-four hours, when it fell calm,
and in the night sprang up from the southwest. This was dead in our
teeth, but I took in the sea-anchor and set sail, hauling a course
on the wind that took us in a south-southeasterly direction. It was an
even choice between this and the west-northwesterly course that the
wind permitted; but the warm airs of the south fanned my desire for
a warmer sea and swayed my decision.
¡¡¡¡In three hours- it was midnight, I well remember, and as dark as I
had ever seen it on the sea- the wind, still blowing out of the
southwest, rose furiously, and once again I was compelled to set the
sea-anchor.
¡¡¡¡Day broke and found me wan-eyed and the ocean lashed white, the boat
pitching, almost on end, to its drag. We were in imminent danger of
being swamped by the whitecaps. As it was, spray and spume came aboard
in such quantities that I baled without cessation. The blankets were
soaking. Everything was wet except Maud, and she, in oilskins,
rubber boots, and souwester, was dry, all but her face and hands and a
stray wisp of hair. She relieved me at the baling-hole from time to
time, and bravely she threw out the water and faced the storm. All
things are relative. It was no more than a stiff blow; but to us,
fighting for life in our frail craft, it was indeed a storm.
¡¡¡¡Cold and cheerless, the wind beating on our faces, the white seas
roaring by, we struggled through the day. Night came, but neither of
us slept. Day came, and still the wind beat on our faces and the white
seas roared past. By the second night Maud was falling asleep from
exhaustion. I covered her with oilskins and a tarpaulin. She was
comparatively dry, but she was numb with the cold. I feared greatly
that she might die in the night; but day broke, cold and cheerless,
with the same clouded sky and beating wind and roaring seas.
¡¡¡¡I had had no sleep for forty-eight hours. I was wet and chilled to
the marrow, till I felt more dead than alive. My body was stiff from
exertion as well as from cold, and my aching muscles gave me the
severest torture whenever I used them- and I used them continually.
And all the time we were being driven off into the northeast, directly
away from Japan and toward bleak Bering Sea.
¡¡¡¡And still we lived, and the boat lived, and the wind blew
unabated. In fact, toward nightfall of the third day it increased a
trifle and something more. The boat's bow plunged under a crest, and
we came through quarter full of water. I baled like a madman. The
liability of shipping another such sea was enormously increased by the
water that weighed the boat down and robbed it of its buoyancy. And
another such sea meant the end. When I had the boat empty again I
was forced to take away the tarpaulin that covered Maud, in order that
I might lash it down across the bow. It was well I did, for it covered
the boat fully a third of the way aft, and three times in the next
several hours it flung off the bulk of the down-rushing water when the
bow shoved under the seas.
¡¡¡¡Maud's condition was pitiable. She sat crouched in the bottom of the
boat, her lips blue, her face gray and plainly showing the pain she
suffered. But ever her eyes looked bravely at me, and ever her lips
uttered brave words.
¡¡¡¡The worst of the storm must have blown that night, though little I
noticed it. I had succumbed and slept where I sat in the stern-sheets.
The morning of the fourth day found the wind diminished to a gentle
whisper, the sea dying down, and the sun shining upon us. Oh, the
blessed sun! How we bathed our poor bodies in its delicious warmth,
reviving like insects and crawling things after a storm! We smiled
again, said amusing things, and waxed optimistic over our situation.
Yet it was, if anything, worse than ever. We were farther away from
Japan than the night we left the Ghost. Nor could I more than
roughly guess our latitude and longitude. At a calculation of a
two-mile drift per hour, during the seventy and odd hours of the storm
we had been driven at least one hundred and fifty miles to the
northeast. But was such calculated drift correct? For all I knew, it
might have been four miles per hour instead of two, in which case we
were another hundred and fifty miles to the bad.
¡¡¡¡Where we were I did not know, though there was quite a likelihood
that we were in the vicinity of the Ghost. There were seals about
us, and I was prepared to sight a sealing-schooner at any time. We did
sight one, in the afternoon, when the northwest breeze had sprung up
freshly once more; but the strange schooner lost itself on the
skyline, and we alone occupied the circle of the sea.
¡¡¡¡Came days of fog, when even Maud's spirit drooped and there were
no merry words upon her lips; days of calm, when we floated on the
lonely immensity of sea, oppressed by its greatness and yet
marveling at the miracle of tiny life, for we still lived and
struggled to live; days of sleet and wind and snow-squalls, when
nothing could keep us warm; or days of drizzling rain, when we
filled our water-breakers from the drip of the wet sail.
¡¡¡¡And ever I loved Maud with an increasing love. She was so
many-sided, so many-mooded- 'Protean-mooded' I called her. But I
called her this, and other and dearer things, in my thoughts only.
Though the declaration of my love urged and trembled on my tongue a
thousand times, I knew that it was no time for such a declaration.
If for no other reason, it was no time, when one was protecting and
trying to save a woman, to ask that woman for her love. Delicate as
was the situation, not alone in this but in other ways, I flattered
myself that I was able to deal delicately with it; and also I
flattered myself that by look or sign I gave no advertisement of the
love I felt for her. We were like good comrades, and we grew better
comrades as the days went by.
¡¡¡¡One thing about her that surprised me was her lack of timidity and
fear. The terrible sea, the frail-boat, the storms, the suffering, the
strangeness and isolation of the situation,- all that should have
frightened a robust woman,- seemed to make no impression upon her
who had known life only in its most sheltered and consummately
artificial aspects, and who was herself all fire and dew and mist,
sublimated spirit- all that was soft and tender and clinging in woman.
And yet I am wrong. She was timid and afraid, but she possessed
courage. The flesh and the qualms of the flesh she was heir to, but
the flesh bore heavily only on the flesh. And she was spirit, first
and always spirit, etherealized essence of life, as calm as her calm
eyes, and sure of permanence in the changing order of the universe.
¡¡¡¡Came days of storm, days and nights of storm, when the ocean menaced
us with its roaring whiteness and the wind smote our struggling boat
with a Titan's buffets. And ever we were flung off farther and farther
to the northeast. It was in such a storm, and the worst that we had
experienced, that I cast a weary glance to leeward, not in quest of
anything, but more from the weariness of facing the elemental strife
and in mute appeal, almost, to the wrathful powers to cease and let us
be. What I saw I could not at first believe; days and nights of
sleeplessness and anxiety had doubtless turned my head. I looked
back at Maud, to identify myself, as it were, in time and space. The
sight of her dear wet cheeks, her flying hair, and her brave brown
eyes convinced me that my vision was still healthy. Again I turned
my face to leeward, and again I saw the jutting promontory, black
and high and naked, the raging surf that broke about its base and beat
its front high up with spouting fountains, the black and forbidding
coastline running toward the southeast and fringed with a tremendous
scarf of white.
¡¡¡¡'Maud,' I said, 'Maud.'
¡¡¡¡She turned her head and beheld the sight.
¡¡¡¡'It cannot be Alaska!' she cried.
¡¡¡¡'No,' I answered; and asked, 'Can you swim?'
¡¡¡¡She shook her head.
¡¡¡¡'Neither can I,' I said. 'So we must get ashore without swimming, in
some opening between the rocks through which we can drive the boat and
clamber out. But we must be quick, very quick- and sure.'
¡¡¡¡I spoke with a confidence she knew I did not feel, for she looked at
me with that unfaltering gaze of hers, and said:
¡¡¡¡'I have not thanked you yet for all you have done for me, but-'
She hesitated, as if in doubt how best to word her gratitude.
¡¡¡¡'Well?' I said brutally, for I was not quite pleased with her
thanking me.
¡¡¡¡'You might help me,' she smiled.
¡¡¡¡'To acknowledge your obligations before you die? Not at all. We
are not going to die. We shall land on that island, and we shall be
snug and sheltered before the day is done.'
¡¡¡¡I spoke stoutly, but I did not believe a word. Nor was I prompted to
lie through fear. I felt no fear, though I was sure of death in that
boiling surge among the rocks which was rapidly growing nearer. It was
impossible to hoist sail and claw off that shore. The wind would
instantly capsize the boat; the seas would swamp it the moment it fell
into the trough; and, besides, the sail, lashed to the spare oars,
dragged in the sea ahead of us.
¡¡¡¡As I say, I was not afraid to meet my own death there, a few hundred
yards to leeward; but I was appalled at the thought that Maud must
die. My cursed imagination saw her beaten and mangled against the
rocks, and it was too terrible. I strove to compel myself to think
we would make the landing safely, and so I spoke not what I
believed, but what I preferred to believe.
¡¡¡¡I recoiled before contemplation of that frightful death, and for a
moment I entertained the wild idea of seizing Maud in my arms and
leaping overboard. Then I resolved to wait, and at the last moment,
when we entered on the final stretch, to take her in my arms and
proclaim my love, and, with her in my embrace, to make the desperate
struggle and die.
¡¡¡¡Instinctively we drew closer together in the bottom of the boat. I
felt her mittened hand come out to mine; and thus, without speech,
we waited the end. We were not far off the line the wind made with the
western edge of the promontory, and I watched in the hope that some
set of the current or send of the sea would drift us past before we
reached the surf.
¡¡¡¡'We shall go clear,' I said, with a confidence that I knew
deceived neither of us. Five minutes later I cried: 'By God! We
shall go clear!'
¡¡¡¡The oath left my lips in my excitement- the first, I do believe,
in my life, unless 'trouble it,' an expletive of my youth, be
accounted an oath.
¡¡¡¡'I beg your pardon,' I said.
¡¡¡¡'You have convinced me for the first time of your sincerity,' she
said, with a faint smile. 'I do know now that we shall go clear.'
¡¡¡¡I had seen a distant headland past the extreme edge of the
promontory, and as we looked we could see grow the intervening
coastline of what was evidently a deep cove. At the same time there
broke upon our ears a continuous and mighty bellowing. It partook of
the magnitude and volume of distant thunder, and it came to us
directly from leeward, rising above the crash of the surf and
traveling directly in the teeth of the storm. As we passed the
point, the whole cove burst upon our view, a half-moon of white
sandy beach upon which broke a huge surf and which was covered with
myriads of seals. It was from them that the great bellowing went up.
¡¡¡¡'A rookery!' I cried. 'Now are we indeed saved. There must be men
and cruisers to protect them from the seal-hunters. Possibly there
is a station ashore.'
¡¡¡¡But as I studied the surf that beat upon the beach, I said: 'Still
bad, but not so bad. And now, if the gods be truly kind, we shall
drift by that next headland and come upon a perfectly sheltered
beach where we may land without wetting our feet.'
¡¡¡¡And the gods were kind. The first and second headlands were directly
in line with the southwest wind; but once around the second,- and we
went perilously close,- we picked up the third headland, still in line
with the wind and with the other two. But the cove that intervened! It
penetrated deep into the land, and the tide, setting in, drifted us
under the shelter of the point. Here the sea was calm, save for a
heavy but smooth ground-swell, and I took in the sea-anchor and
began to row. From the point the shore curved away more and more to
the south and west, until, at last, it disclosed a cove within the
cove, a little landlocked harbor, the water as level as a pond, broken
only by tiny ripples, where vagrant breaths and wisps of the storm
hurtled down from over the frowning wall of rock that backed the beach
a hundred feet inshore.
¡¡¡¡Here were no seals whatever. The boat's stem touched the hard
shingle. I sprang out, extending my hand to Maud. The next moment
she was beside me. As my fingers released hers, she clutched for my
arm hastily. At the same moment I swayed, as if about to fall to the
sand. This was the startling effect of the cessation of motion. We had
been so long upon the moving, rocking sea that the stable land was a
shock to us. We expected the beach to lift up this way and that, and
the rocky walls to swing back and forth like the sides of a ship;
and when we braced ourselves automatically for these various
expected movements, their non-occurrence quite overcame our
equilibrium.
¡¡¡¡'I really must sit down,' Maud said, with a nervous laugh and a
dizzy gesture, and forthwith she sat down on the sand.
¡¡¡¡I attended to making the boat secure and joined her. Thus we
landed on Endeavor Island, as we called it, land-sick from long custom
of the sea.
¡¡¡¡
¡¡¡¡CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE.
¡¡¡¡'FOOL!' I CRIED ALOUD in my vexation.
¡¡¡¡I had unloaded the boat and carried its contents high up on the
beach, where I had set about making a camp. There was driftwood,
though not much, on the beach, and the sight of a coffee-tin I had
taken from the Ghost's larder had given me the idea of a fire.
¡¡¡¡'Blithering idiot!' I was continuing.
¡¡¡¡But Maud said, 'Tut! tut!' in gentle reproval, and then asked why
I was a blithering idiot.
¡¡¡¡'No matches!' I groaned. 'Not a match did I bring! And now we
shall have no hot coffee, soup, tea, nor anything.'
¡¡¡¡'Wasn't it er- Crusoe who rubbed sticks together?' she drawled.
¡¡¡¡'But I have read the personal narratives of a score of shipwrecked
men who tried, and tried in vain,' I answered. 'I remember Winters,
a newspaper fellow with an Alaskan and Siberian reputation. Met him at
the Bibelot once, and he was telling us how he attempted to make a
fire with a couple of sticks. It was most amusing. He told it
inimitably, but it was the story of a failure. I remember his
conclusion, his black eyes flashing as he said: "Gentlemen, the
South Sea Islander may do it, the Malay may do it, but, take my
word, it's beyond the white man."'
¡¡¡¡'Oh, well, we've managed so far without it,' she said cheerfully;
'and there's no reason why we cannot still manage without it.'
¡¡¡¡'But think of the coffee!' I cried. 'It's good coffee, too. I
know; I took it from Larsen's private stores. And look at that good
wood.'
¡¡¡¡I confess that I wanted the coffee badly, and I learned not long
afterward that the berry was likewise a little weakness of Maud's.
Besides, we had been so long on a cold diet that we were numb inside
as well as out. Anything warm would have been most gratifying. But I
complained no more, and set about making a tent of the sail for Maud.
¡¡¡¡I had looked upon it as a simple task, what with the oars, mast,
boom, and sprit, to say nothing of plenty of lines. But as I was
without experience, and as every detail was an experiment and every
successful detail an invention, the day was well gone before her
shelter was an accomplished fact. And then that night it rained, and
Maud was flooded out and driven back into the boat.
¡¡¡¡The next morning I dug a shallow ditch around the tent, and, an hour
later, a