English
WolfLarsenceasedswearingassuddenlyashehadbegun.Herelightedhiscigarandglancedaround.Hiseyeschanceduponthecook.
“Well,Cooky?”hebegan,withasuavenessthatwascoldandofthetemperofsteel.
“Yes,sir,”thecookeagerlyinterpolated,withappeasingandapologeticservility.
“Don’tyouthinkyou’vestretchedthatneckofyoursjustaboutenough?It’sunhealthy,youknow.
Themate’sgone,soIcan’taffordtoloseyoutoo.
Youmustbevery,verycarefulofyourhealth,Cooky.Understand?”
Hislastword,instrikingcontrastwiththesmoothnessofhispreviousutterance,snappedlikethelashofawhip.Thecookquailedunderit.
“Yes,sir,”wasthemeekreply,astheoffendingheaddisappearedintothegalley.
Atthissweepingrebuke,whichthecookhadonlypointed,therestofthecrewbecameuninterestedandfelltoworkatonetaskoranother.
Anumberofmen,however,whowereloungingaboutacompanion-waybetweenthegalleyandhatch,andwhodidnotseemtobesailors,continuedtalkinginlowtoneswithoneanother.
These,Iafterwardlearned,werethehunters,themenwhoshottheseals,andaverysuperiorbreedtocommonsailor-folk.
“Johansen!”WolfLarsencalledout.Asailorsteppedforwardobediently.“Getyourpalmandneedleandsewthebeggarup.You’llfindsomeoldcanvasinthesail-locker.Makeitdo.”
“What’llIputonhisfeet,sir?”themanasked,afterthecustomary“Ay,ay,sir.”
“We’llseetothat,”WolfLarsenanswered,andelevatedhisvoiceinacallof“Cooky!”
ThomasMugridgepoppedoutofhisgalleylikeajack-in-the-box.
“Gobelowandfillasackwithcoal.”
“AnyofyoufellowsgotaBibleorPrayer-book?”wasthecaptain’snextdemand,thistimeofthehuntersloungingaboutthecompanion-way.
Theyshooktheirheads,andsomeonemadeajocularremarkwhichIdidnotcatch,butwhichraisedagenerallaugh.
WolfLarsenmadethesamedemandofthesailors.
BiblesandPrayer-booksseemedscarcearticles,butoneofthemenvolunteeredtopursuethequestamongstthewatchbelow,returninginaminutewiththeinformationthattherewasnone.
Thecaptainshruggedhisshoulders.“Thenwe’lldrophimoverwithoutanypalavering,unlessourclerical-lookingcastawayhastheburialserviceatseabyheart.”
Bythistimehehadswungfullyaroundandwasfacingme.“You’reapreacher,aren’tyou?”heasked.
Thehunters,—thereweresixofthem,—toaman,turnedandregardedme.
Iwaspainfullyawareofmylikenesstoascarecrow.
Alaughwentupatmyappearance,—alaughthatwasnotlessenedorsoftenedbythedeadmanstretchedandgrinningonthedeckbeforeus;alaughthatwasasroughandharshandfrankastheseaitself;thataroseoutofcoarsefeelingsandbluntedsensibilities,fromnaturesthatknewneithercourtesynorgentleness.
WolfLarsendidnotlaugh,thoughhisgreyeyeslightedwithaslightglintofamusement;andinthatmoment,havingsteppedforwardquiteclosetohim,Ireceivedmyfirstimpressionofthemanhimself,ofthemanasapartfromhisbody,andfromthetorrentofblasphemyIhadheardhimspewforth.
Theface,withlargefeaturesandstronglines,ofthesquareorder,yetwellfilledout,wasapparentlymassiveatfirstsight;butagain,aswiththebody,themassivenessseemedtovanish,andaconvictiontogrowofatremendousandexcessivementalorspiritualstrengththatlaybehind,sleepinginthedeepsofhisbeing.
Thejaw,thechin,thebrowrisingtoagoodlyheightandswellingheavilyabovetheeyes,—these,whilestronginthemselves,unusuallystrong,seemedtospeakanimmensevigourorvirilityofspiritthatlaybehindandbeyondandoutofsight.
Therewasnosoundingsuchaspirit,nomeasuring,nodeterminingofmetesandbounds,norneatlyclassifyinginsomepigeon-holewithothersofsimilartype.
Theeyes—anditwasmydestinytoknowthemwell—werelargeandhandsome,wideapartasthetrueartist’sarewide,shelteringunderaheavybrowandarchedoverbythickblackeyebrows.
Theeyesthemselveswereofthatbafflingproteangreywhichisnevertwicethesame;whichrunsthroughmanyshadesandcolouringslikeintershotsilkinsunshine;whichisgrey,darkandlight,andgreenish-grey,andsometimesoftheclearazureofthedeepsea.
Theywereeyesthatmaskedthesoulwithathousandguises,andthatsometimesopened,atraremoments,andallowedittorushupasthoughitwereabouttofareforthnakedlyintotheworldonsomewonderfuladventure,—eyesthatcouldbroodwiththehopelesssombrenessofleadenskies;thatcouldsnapandcracklepointsoffirelikethosewhichsparklefromawhirlingsword;thatcouldgrowchillasanarcticlandscape,andyetagain,thatcouldwarmandsoftenandbealla-dancewithlove-lights,intenseandmasculine,luringandcompelling,whichatthesametimefascinateanddominatewomentilltheysurrenderinagladnessofjoyandofreliefandsacrifice.
Buttoreturn.Itoldhimthat,unhappilyfortheburialservice,Iwasnotapreacher,whenhesharplydemanded:
“Whatdoyoudoforaliving?”
IconfessIhadneverhadsuchaquestionaskedmebefore,norhadIevercanvassedit.Iwasquitetakenaback,andbeforeIcouldfindmyselfhadsillilystammered,“I—Iamagentleman.”
Hislipcurledinaswiftsneer.
“Ihaveworked,Idowork,”Icriedimpetuously,asthoughheweremyjudgeandIrequiredvindication,andatthesametimeverymuchawareofmyarrantidiocyindiscussingthesubjectatall.
“Foryourliving?”
TherewassomethingsoimperativeandmasterfulabouthimthatIwasquitebesidemyself—“rattled,”asFurusethwouldhavetermedit,likeaquakingchildbeforeasternschool-master.
“Whofeedsyou?”washisnextquestion.
“Ihaveanincome,”Iansweredstoutly,andcouldhavebittenmytonguethenextinstant.“Allofwhich,youwillpardonmyobserving,hasnothingwhatsoevertodowithwhatIwishtoseeyouabout.”
Buthedisregardedmyprotest.
“Whoearnedit?Eh?Ithoughtso.Yourfather.Youstandondeadmen’slegs.You’veneverhadanyofyourown.
Youcouldn’twalkalonebetweentwosunrisesandhustlethemeatforyourbellyforthreemeals.Letmeseeyourhand.”
Histremendous,dormantstrengthmusthavestirred,swiftlyandaccurately,orImusthavesleptamoment,forbeforeIknewithehadsteppedtwopacesforward,grippedmyrighthandinhis,andhelditupforinspection.
Itriedtowithdrawit,buthisfingerstightened,withoutvisibleeffort,tillIthoughtminewouldbecrushed.
Itishardtomaintainone’sdignityundersuchcircumstances.
Icouldnotsquirmorstrugglelikeaschoolboy.
NorcouldIattacksuchacreaturewhohadbuttotwistmyarmtobreakit.
Nothingremainedbuttostandstillandaccepttheindignity.
Ihadtimetonoticethatthepocketsofthedeadmanhadbeenemptiedonthedeck,andthathisbodyandhisgrinhadbeenwrappedfromviewincanvas,thefoldsofwhichthesailor,Johansen,wassewingtogetherwithcoarsewhitetwine,shovingtheneedlethroughwithaleathercontrivancefittedonthepalmofhishand.
WolfLarsendroppedmyhandwithaflirtofdisdain.
“Deadmen’shandshavekeptitsoft.Goodforlittleelsethandish-washingandscullionwork.”
“Iwishtobeputashore,”Isaidfirmly,forInowhadmyselfincontrol.“Ishallpayyouwhateveryoujudgeyourdelayandtroubletobeworth.”
Helookedatmecuriously.Mockeryshoneinhiseyes.
“Ihaveacounterpropositiontomake,andforthegoodofyoursoul.
Mymate’sgone,andthere’llbealotofpromotion.
Asailorcomesafttotakemate’splace,cabin-boygoesfor’ardtotakesailor’splace,andyoutakethecabin-boy’splace,signthearticlesforthecruise,twentydollarspermonthandfound.Nowwhatdoyousay?
Andmindyou,it’sforyourownsoul’ssake.Itwillbethemakingofyou.
Youmightlearnintimetostandonyourownlegs,andperhapstotoddlealongabit.”
ButItooknonotice.ThesailsofthevesselIhadseenofftothesouth-westhadgrownlargerandplainer.
Theywereofthesameschooner-rigastheGhost,thoughthehullitself,Icouldsee,wassmaller.
Shewasaprettysight,leapingandflyingtowardus,andevidentlyboundtopassatcloserange.
Thewindhadbeenmomentarilyincreasing,andthesun,afterafewangrygleams,haddisappeared.
Theseahadturnedadullleadengreyandgrownrougher,andwasnowtossingfoamingwhitecapstothesky.
Weweretravellingfaster,andheeledfartherover.
Once,inagust,theraildippedunderthesea,andthedecksonthatsidewereforthemomentawashwithwaterthatmadeacoupleofthehuntershastilylifttheirfeet.
“Thatvesselwillsoonbepassingus,”Isaid,afteramoment’spause.“Assheisgoingintheoppositedirection,sheisveryprobablyboundforSanFrancisco.”
“Veryprobably,”wasWolfLarsen’sanswer,asheturnedpartlyawayfrommeandcriedout,“Cooky!Oh,Cooky!”
TheCockneypoppedoutofthegalley.
“Where’sthatboy?TellhimIwanthim.”
“Yes,sir;”andThomasMugridgefledswiftlyaftanddisappeareddownanothercompanion-waynearthewheel.
Amomentlaterheemerged,aheavy-setyoungfellowofeighteenornineteen,withaglowering,villainouscountenance,trailingathisheels.
“’Ere’eis,sir,”thecooksaid.
ButWolfLarsenignoredthatworthy,turningatoncetothecabin-boy.
“What’syourname,boy?”
“GeorgeLeach,sir,”camethesullenanswer,andtheboy’sbearingshowedclearlythathedivinedthereasonforwhichhehadbeensummoned.
“NotanIrishname,”thecaptainsnappedsharply.“O’TooleorMcCarthywouldsuityourmugadamnsightbetter.Unless,verylikely,there’sanIrishmaninyourmother’swoodpile.”
Isawtheyoungfellow’shandsclenchattheinsult,andthebloodcrawlscarletuphisneck.
“Butletthatgo,”WolfLarsencontinued.
“Youmayhaveverygoodreasonsforforgettingyourname,andI’lllikeyounonetheworseforitaslongasyoutoethemark.
TelegraphHill,ofcourse,isyourportofentry.Itsticksoutalloveryourmug.
Toughastheymakethemandtwiceasnasty.Iknowthekind.
Well,youcanmakeupyourmindtohaveittakenoutofyouonthiscraft.Understand?Whoshippedyou,anyway?”
“McCreadyandSwanson.”
“Sir!”WolfLarsenthundered.
“McCreadyandSwanson,sir,”theboycorrected,hiseyesburningwithabitterlight.
“Whogottheadvancemoney?”
“Theydid,sir.”
“Ithoughtasmuch.Anddamnedgladyouweretoletthemhaveit.Couldn’tmakeyourselfscarcetooquick,withseveralgentlemenyoumayhaveheardoflookingforyou.”
Theboymetamorphosedintoasavageontheinstant.Hisbodybunchedtogetherasthoughforaspring,andhisfacebecameasaninfuriatedbeast’sashesnarled,“It’sa—”
“Awhat?”WolfLarsenasked,apeculiarsoftnessinhisvoice,asthoughhewereoverwhelminglycurioustoheartheunspokenword.
Theboyhesitated,thenmasteredhistemper.“Nothin’,sir.Itakeitback.”
“AndyouhaveshownmeIwasright.”Thiswithagratifiedsmile.“Howoldareyou?”
“Justturnedsixteen,sir,”
“Alie.You’llneverseeeighteenagain.Bigforyourageatthat,withmuscleslikeahorse.Packupyourkitandgofor’ardintothefo’c’sle.You’reaboat-pullernow.You’repromoted;see?”
Withoutwaitingfortheboy’sacceptance,thecaptainturnedtothesailorwhohadjustfinishedthegruesometaskofsewingupthecorpse.“Johansen,doyouknowanythingaboutnavigation?”
“No,sir,”
“Well,nevermind;you’rematejustthesame.Getyourtrapsaftintothemate’sberth.”
“Ay,ay,sir,”wasthecheeryresponse,asJohansenstartedforward.
Inthemeantimetheerstwhilecabin-boyhadnotmoved.“Whatareyouwaitingfor?”WolfLarsendemanded.
“Ididn’tsignforboat-puller,sir,”wasthereply.“Isignedforcabin-boy.An’Idon’twantnoboat-pullin’inmine.”
“Packupandgofor’ard.”
ThistimeWolfLarsen’scommandwasthrillinglyimperative.Theboygloweredsullenly,butrefusedtomove.
ThencameanotherstirringofWolfLarsen’stremendousstrength.
Itwasutterlyunexpected,anditwasoveranddonewithbetweentheticksoftwoseconds.
Hehadsprungfullysixfeetacrossthedeckanddrivenhisfistintotheother’sstomach.
Atthesamemoment,asthoughIhadbeenstruckmyself,Ifeltasickeningshockinthepitofmystomach.
Iinstancethistoshowthesensitivenessofmynervousorganizationatthetime,andhowunusedIwastospectaclesofbrutality.
Thecabin-boy—andheweighedonehundredandsixty-fiveattheveryleast—crumpledup.
Hisbodywrappedlimplyaboutthefistlikeawetragaboutastick.
Heliftedintotheair,describedashortcurve,andstruckthedeckalongsidethecorpseonhisheadandshoulders,wherehelayandwrithedaboutinagony.
“Well?”Larsenaskedofme.“Haveyoumadeupyourmind?”
Ihadglancedoccasionallyattheapproachingschooner,anditwasnowalmostabreastofusandnotmorethanacoupleofhundredyardsaway.
Itwasaverytrimandneatlittlecraft.
Icouldseealarge,blacknumberononeofitssails,andIhadseenpicturesofpilot-boats.
“Whatvesselisthat?”Iasked.
“Thepilot-boatLadyMine,”WolfLarsenansweredgrimly.“GotridofherpilotsandrunningintoSanFrancisco.She’llbethereinfiveorsixhourswiththiswind.”
“Willyoupleasesignalit,then,sothatImaybeputashore.”
“Sorry,butI’velostthesignalbookoverboard,”heremarked,andthegroupofhuntersgrinned.
Idebatedamoment,lookinghimsquarelyintheeyes.
Ihadseenthefrightfultreatmentofthecabin-boy,andknewthatIshouldveryprobablyreceivethesame,ifnotworse.
AsIsay,Idebatedwithmyself,andthenIdidwhatIconsiderthebravestactofmylife.
Irantotheside,wavingmyarmsandshouting:
“LadyMineahoy!Takemeashore!Athousanddollarsifyoutakemeashore!”
Iwaited,watchingtwomenwhostoodbythewheel,oneofthemsteering.
Theotherwasliftingamegaphonetohislips.
Ididnotturnmyhead,thoughIexpectedeverymomentakillingblowfromthehumanbrutebehindme.
Atlast,afterwhatseemedcenturies,unablelongertostandthestrain,Ilookedaround.Hehadnotmoved.
Hewasstandinginthesameposition,swayingeasilytotherolloftheshipandlightingafreshcigar.
“Whatisthematter?Anythingwrong?”
ThiswasthecryfromtheLadyMine.
“Yes!”Ishouted,atthetopofmylungs.“Lifeordeath!Onethousanddollarsifyoutakemeashore!”
“Toomuch’Friscotanglefootforthehealthofmycrew!”WolfLarsenshoutedafter.“Thisone”—indicatingmewithhisthumb—“fanciessea-serpentsandmonkeysjustnow!”
ThemanontheLadyMinelaughedbackthroughthemegaphone.Thepilot-boatplungedpast.
“Givehimhellforme!”cameafinalcry,andthetwomenwavedtheirarmsinfarewell.
Ileaneddespairinglyovertherail,watchingthetrimlittleschoonerswiftlyincreasingthebleaksweepofoceanbetweenus.
AndshewouldprobablybeinSanFranciscoinfiveorsixhours!Myheadseemedbursting.
Therewasanacheinmythroatasthoughmyheartwereupinit.
Acurlingwavestruckthesideandsplashedsaltsprayonmylips.
Thewindpuffedstrongly,andtheGhostheeledfarover,buryingherleerail.
Icouldhearthewaterrushingdownuponthedeck.
WhenIturnedaround,amomentlater,Isawthecabin-boystaggeringtohisfeet.Hisfacewasghastlywhite,twitchingwithsuppressedpain.Helookedverysick.
“Well,Leach,areyougoingfor’ard?”WolfLarsenasked.
“Yes,sir,”cametheanswerofaspiritcowed.
“Andyou?”Iwasasked.
“I’llgiveyouathousand—”Ibegan,butwasinterrupted.
“Stowthat!Areyougoingtotakeupyourdutiesascabin-boy?OrdoIhavetotakeyouinhand?”
WhatwasItodo?Tobebrutallybeaten,tobekilledperhaps,wouldnothelpmycase.
Ilookedsteadilyintothecruelgreyeyes.
Theymighthavebeengraniteforallthelightandwarmthofahumansoultheycontained.
Onemayseethesoulstirinsomemen’seyes,buthiswerebleak,andcold,andgreyastheseaitself.
“Well?”
“Yes,”Isaid.
“Say‘yes,sir.’”
“Yes,sir,”Icorrected.
“Whatisyourname?”
“VanWeyden,sir.”
“Firstname?”
“Humphrey,sir;HumphreyVanWeyden.”
“Age?”
“Thirty-five,sir.”
“That’lldo.Gotothecookandlearnyourduties.”
AndthusitwasthatIpassedintoastateofinvoluntaryservitudetoWolfLarsen.HewasstrongerthanI,thatwasall.Butitwasveryunrealatthetime.
ItisnolessunrealnowthatIlookbackuponit.
Itwillalwaysbetomeamonstrous,inconceivablething,ahorriblenightmare.
“Holdon,don’tgoyet.”
Istoppedobedientlyinmywalktowardthegalley.
“Johansen,callallhands.Nowthatwe’veeverythingcleanedup,we’llhavethefuneralandgetthedecksclearedofuselesslumber.”
WhileJohansenwassummoningthewatchbelow,acoupleofsailors,underthecaptain’sdirection,laidthecanvas-swathedcorpseuponahatch-cover.
Oneithersidethedeck,againsttherailandbottomsup,werelashedanumberofsmallboats.
Severalmenpickedupthehatch-coverwithitsghastlyfreight,carriedittotheleeside,andresteditontheboats,thefeetpointingoverboard.
Tothefeetwasattachedthesackofcoalwhichthecookhadfetched.
Ihadalwaysconceivedaburialatseatobeaverysolemnandawe-inspiringevent,butIwasquicklydisillusioned,bythisburialatanyrate.
Oneofthehunters,alittledark-eyedmanwhomhismatescalled“Smoke,”wastellingstories,liberallyintersprinkledwithoathsandobscenities;andeveryminuteorsothegroupofhuntersgavemouthtoalaughterthatsoundedtomelikeawolf-chorusorthebarkingofhell-hounds.
Thesailorstroopednoisilyaft,someofthewatchbelowrubbingthesleepfromtheireyes,andtalkedinlowtonestogether.
Therewasanominousandworriedexpressionontheirfaces.
Itwasevidentthattheydidnotliketheoutlookofavoyageundersuchacaptainandbegunsoinauspiciously.
FromtimetotimetheystoleglancesatWolfLarsen,andIcouldseethattheywereapprehensiveoftheman.
Hesteppeduptothehatch-cover,andallcapscameoff.
Iranmyeyesoverthem—twentymenalltold;twenty-twoincludingthemanatthewheelandmyself.
Iwaspardonablycuriousinmysurvey,foritappearedmyfatetobepentupwiththemonthisminiaturefloatingworldforIknewnothowmanyweeksormonths.
Thesailors,inthemain,wereEnglishandScandinavian,andtheirfacesseemedoftheheavy,stolidorder.
Thehunters,ontheotherhand,hadstrongerandmorediversifiedfaces,withhardlinesandthemarksofthefreeplayofpassions.
Strangetosay,andInoteditallonce,WolfLarsen’sfeaturesshowednosuchevilstamp.Thereseemednothingviciousinthem.
True,therewerelines,buttheywerethelinesofdecisionandfirmness.
Itseemed,rather,afrankandopencountenance,whichfranknessoropennesswasenhancedbythefactthathewassmooth-shaven.
Icouldhardlybelieve—untilthenextincidentoccurred—thatitwasthefaceofamanwhocouldbehaveashehadbehavedtothecabin-boy.
Atthismoment,asheopenedhismouthtospeak,puffafterpuffstrucktheschoonerandpressedhersideunder.
Thewindshriekedawildsongthroughtherigging.
Someofthehuntersglancedanxiouslyaloft.
Theleerail,wherethedeadmanlay,wasburiedinthesea,andastheschoonerliftedandrightedthewatersweptacrossthedeckwettingusaboveourshoe-tops.
Ashowerofraindrovedownuponus,eachdropstinginglikeahailstone.
Asitpassed,WolfLarsenbegantospeak,thebare-headedmenswayinginunison,totheheaveandlungeofthedeck.
“Ionlyrememberonepartoftheservice,”hesaid,“andthatis,‘Andthebodyshallbecastintothesea.’ Socastitin.”
Heceasedspeaking.Themenholdingthehatch-coverseemedperplexed,puzzlednodoubtbythebriefnessoftheceremony.Heburstupontheminafury.
“Liftupthatendthere,damnyou!Whatthehell’sthematterwithyou?”
Theyelevatedtheendofthehatch-coverwithpitifulhaste,and,likeadogflungoverside,thedeadmanslidfeetfirstintothesea.Thecoalathisfeetdraggedhimdown.Hewasgone.
“Johansen,”WolfLarsensaidbrisklytothenewmate,“keepallhandsondecknowthey’rehere.
Getinthetopsailsandjibsandmakeagoodjobofit.We’reinforasou’-easter.
Betterreefthejibandmainsailtoo,whileyou’reaboutit.”
Inamomentthedeckswereincommotion,Johansenbellowingordersandthemenpullingorlettinggoropesofvarioussorts—allnaturallyconfusingtoalandsmansuchasmyself.
Butitwastheheartlessnessofitthatespeciallystruckme.
Thedeadmanwasanepisodethatwaspast,anincidentthatwasdropped,inacanvascoveringwithasackofcoal,whiletheshipspedalongandherworkwenton.Nobodyhadbeenaffected.
ThehunterswerelaughingatafreshstoryofSmoke’s;themenpullingandhauling,andtwoofthemclimbingaloft;WolfLarsenwasstudyingthecloudingskytowindward;andthedeadman,dyingobscenely,buriedsordidly,andsinkingdown,down—
Thenitwasthatthecrueltyofthesea,itsrelentlessnessandawfulness,rusheduponme.
Lifehadbecomecheapandtawdry,abeastlyandinarticulatething,asoullessstirringoftheoozeandslime.
Iheldontotheweatherrail,closebytheshrouds,andgazedoutacrossthedesolatefoamingwavestothelow-lyingfog-banksthathidSanFranciscoandtheCaliforniacoast.
Rain-squallsweredrivinginbetween,andIcouldscarcelyseethefog.
Andthisstrangevessel,withitsterriblemen,pressedunderbywindandseaandeverleapingupandout,washeadingawayintothesouth-west,intothegreatandlonelyPacificexpanse.
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