The Sea-Wolf

ea without a breath of wind. Occasional light airs were felt, however, and Wolf Larsen patrolled the poop cons

d the six which the hunters will use. Three, a hunter, a boat-puller, and a boat-steerer, compose a boat's crew. On board the schooner the boat

uch things, speak for themselves. Johnson was telling me about her in a short chat I had with him during yesterday's second dog-watch. He spoke most enthusiastically, with the love for a fine craft such as some men feel for horses. He is greatly

le, while she carries an immense spread of canvas. From the deck to the truck of the maintopmast is something over a hundred feet, while the foremast with its topmast is eight or ten feet shorter. I am giving these details so

nian, talking about it. Two years ago he dismasted the Ghost in a gale in Bering Sea, whereupon the present masts were put in, which are s

the men forward are deep-water sailors, and their excuse is that they did not know anything about her or her captain. And those who do know whisper tha

the cook was below asleep and I was peeling the everlasting potatoes, Louis dropped into the galley for a 'yarn.' His excuse for being aboard was that he was drunk when he signed. He assured me again and again that it was the

this Wolf Larsen is a regular devil, an' the Ghost'll be a hell-ship like she's always be'n since he had hold iv her. Don't I know? Don't I know? Don't I remember him in Hakodate two years gone, when he had a row an' shot four iv his men? Wasn't I a-layin' on the Emma L., not three hundred yards away? An' there was a man the same year he killed with a blow iv his

f- 't is what he is. He's not black-hearted, like some men. 'T is no heart h

at he is,' I queried, 'how is it th

There's them that can't sail with better men, like the hunters, an' them that don't know, like the poor devils of wind-jammers for'ard there. But they'll come to it, they'll come to it, an' be

an' easy-goin'; soft-spoken as a girl, till ye'd think butter wouldn't melt in the mouth iv him. Didn't he kill his boat-steerer last year? 'T was called a sad accident, but I met the boat-puller in Yokohama, an' the straight iv it was given me. An' there's Smoke, the black little devil- didn't the Roosians have him for three years in the salt-mines

!' I cried out, overcom

the sake iv your mother; an' never once have I opened me lips but to say fine things iv them an' him, God curse

his straightforwardness and manliness, which, in turn, were tempered by a modesty which might be mistaken for timidity. But timid he was not. He seemed rather to have the courage of his convicti

n' false signals. He grumbles out when things don't go to suit him, an' there'll be always some telltale carryin' word iv it aft to the Wolf. The Wolf is strong, an' it's the way of a wolf to hate strength, an' strength is is he'll see in Johnson- no knucklin' under, an' a "Yes, sir; thank ye kindly, sir," for a curse or a blow. Oh, she's a-comin'! She's a-comin'! An' God knows where

a captain to be chummy with the cook, but this is certainly what Wolf Larsen is doing. Two or three times he put his head into the galley and chaffed Mugridge good-naturedly, and once, this afternoon, he stood by the break of

n in the cabin for a little chat an' a friendly glass. "Mugridge," says 'e to me, "Mugridge," says 'e, "you've missed yer vocytion." "an' ow's that?" says I. "Yer should' a' been born a gentleman, an'

n my nerves till sometimes I was all in a tremble. Positively he was the most disgusting and loathsome person I have ever met. The filth of his cooking was indescribab

blisters came, in a painful and never-ending procession, and I had a great burn on my forearm, acquired by losing my balance in a roll of the ship and pitching against the galley stove. Nor was my kn

hall be able to appreciate the lives of the working-people hereafter. I did not dream that work was so terrible a thing. From half-past five in the morning till ten o'clock at night I am everybody's slave, with not one moment to myself except such as I can steal near the end of

had a fight. Henderson seems the best of the hunters, a slow-going fellow and hard to rouse; but roused he must have

ame, a clumsy-looking country boy, mastered, I imagine, by the spirit of adventure, and making his first voyage. In the light, baffling airs, the schooner

erstood it, there were two ways of getting it cleared- first, by lowering the foresail, which was comparatively easy and wi

, to trust himself on those thin and jerking ropes. Had there been a steady breeze it would not have been so bad, but the Ghost was rolling emptily in a long se

as probably the first time in his life he had been aloft. Johansen, who had caught the

. 'I'll have you know that I do the swearing on thi

mate acknowledg

him trembling in every limb as with ague. He proceeded very slowly and cautiously, an inch at a time. Outlined aga

But the trouble lay in that the wind was not strong enough or steady enough to keep the sail full. When he was halfway out, the Ghost took a long roll to windward and back again

atted against the canvas like a volley of rifles. Harrison, clinging on, made the giddy rush through the air. This rush ceased abruptly. The halyards became instantly taut. It was the snap of the whip. His clutch was broken. One hand was torn loose from its hold. The other lingered desperately for

d Wolf Larsen's voice, which came to me from arou

time clung to his precarious perch without attempting to move. Johansen,

ing by the main rigging, a few feet away from me. 'The boy is willing enough. He will learn if

ered to him. 'For the love iv

ing on, still cont

oke to Wolf Larsen,- 'that's my boat-

puller when you've got him in the boat, but he's my sailor whe

n- ' Standish began i

'I've told you what's what, and let it stop at that. The ma

the lives of other men, was appalling. I, who had lived out of the whirl of the world, had never dreamed that its work was carried on in such fashion. Life had always seemed a peculiarly sacred thing; but here it counted for nothing, was a cipher in the arithmetic of commerce. I must say, however, that the sailors themsel

of the gaff, where, astride the spar itself, he had a better chance for holding on. He cleared the sheet, and was free to return, slightly downhill now, along

so strongly stamped upon a human face. Johansen called vainly for him to come down. At any moment he was liable to be snapped off the gaff, but he was helpless

y man! Be careful, unless y

lmsman responded, puttin

at what little wind there was should fill the foresail and hold it steady. He had s

t fearful time, to cyclopean dimensions! For the first time in my life I experienced the desire to murder- 'saw red,' as some of our picturesque writers phrase it. Life in general might still be sacred, but life in the particular case of Thomas Mugridge had become very profane in

nded with Johnson flinging off Louis's detaining arm and starting forward. He crossed the deck,

hat are you up

ed. He looked his captain in

g to get th

at rigging, and- lively abo

ce to the masters of ships overpowered him, and h

aff. At six o'clock, when I served supper, going on deck to get the food from the galley, I saw Harrison, still in the same position. The conversation at the table was of other things. Nobody seemed interested in the wantonl

scrap of conversation I had with Wolf Larsen

sh this afternoon,' he beg

ck as Harrison, that he was trying to draw me, and I answ

ickness, I suppose. Some men are s

o,' I o

as the sea is full of motion. And some men are made sick

an life, don't you place any val

e steady and motionless, there seemed a cynical smile in them

' I mad

u? Another man's life, I mean

ad met, and with whom I had something in common to start on, I had nothing in common with him. Perhaps, also, it was the elemental simplicity of his mind that baffled me. He drove so directly to the core of the matter, divesting a question always of all superfluous details, and with such an air of finality, that I see

air; but the life that is demanding to be born is limitless. Nature is a spendthrift. Look at the fish and their millions of eggs. For that matter, look at you and me. In our loins are the possibilities of millions of lives. Could we but find time and opportunity and utilize the last bit and every bit of the unborn life that is in u

understandingly when you conclude that the struggle fo

be parsimonious with this life which is cheap and without value? There are more sailors than there are ships on the sea for them, more workers than there are factories or machines for them. Why, you who live on the land know that you house your poor people in the slums of cities an

es. But I do not accept his estimate. He sadly overrates himself. There is plenty more life demanding to be born. Had he fallen and dripped his brains upon the deck like honey from the comb, there would have been no loss to the world. He was worth nothing to the world. The supply is too large. To himself only was he of value, and to show how fictitious even this value was, being dead

tent,' was all I could say, an