Threedaysofrest,threeblesseddaysofrest,arewhatIhadwithWolfLarsen,eatingatthecabintableanddoingnothingbutdiscusslife,literature,andtheuniverse,thewhileThomasMugridgefumedandragedanddidmyworkaswellashisown. “Watchoutforsqualls,isallIcansaytoyou,”wasLouis’swarning,givenduringasparehalf-hourondeckwhileWolfLarsenwasengagedinstraighteningoutarowamongthehunters. “Yecan’ttellwhat’llbehappenin’,”Louiswenton,inresponsetomyqueryformoredefiniteinformation. “Theman’sascontraryasaircurrentsorwatercurrents.Youcanneverguessthewaysivhim.’ Tisjustasyou’rethinkin’youknowhimandaremakin’afavourableslantalonghim,thathewhirlsaround,deadaheadandcomeshowlin’downuponyouanda-rippin’allivyourfine-weathersailstorags.” SoIwasnotaltogethersurprisedwhenthesquallforetoldbyLouissmoteme. Wehadbeenhavingaheateddiscussion,—uponlife,ofcourse,—and,grownover-bold,IwaspassingstiffstricturesuponWolfLarsenandthelifeofWolfLarsen. Infact,Iwasvivisectinghimandturningoverhissoul-stuffaskeenlyandthoroughlyasitwashiscustomtodoittoothers. ItmaybeaweaknessofminethatIhaveanincisivewayofspeech;butIthrewallrestrainttothewindsandcutandslasheduntilthewholemanofhimwassnarling. Thedarksun-bronzeofhisfacewentblackwithwrath,hiseyeswereablaze. Therewasnoclearnessorsanityinthem—nothingbuttheterrificrageofamadman. ItwasthewolfinhimthatIsaw,andamadwolfatthat. Hesprangformewithahalf-roar,grippingmyarm. Ihadsteeledmyselftobrazenitout,thoughIwastremblinginwardly;buttheenormousstrengthofthemanwastoomuchformyfortitude. Hehadgrippedmebythebicepswithhissinglehand,andwhenthatgriptightenedIwiltedandshriekedaloud.Myfeetwentoutfromunderme. Isimplycouldnotstanduprightandenduretheagony.Themusclesrefusedtheirduty.Thepainwastoogreat.Mybicepswasbeingcrushedtoapulp. Heseemedtorecoverhimself,foralucidgleamcameintohiseyes,andherelaxedhisholdwithashortlaughthatwasmorelikeagrowl. Ifelltothefloor,feelingveryfaint,whilehesatdown,lightedacigar,andwatchedmeasacatwatchesamouse. AsIwrithedaboutIcouldseeinhiseyesthatcuriosityIhadsooftennoted,thatwonderandperplexity,thatquesting,thateverlastingqueryofhisastowhatitwasallabout. Ifinallycrawledtomyfeetandascendedthecompanionstairs. Fairweatherwasover,andtherewasnothingleftbuttoreturntothegalley. Myleftarmwasnumb,asthoughparalysed,anddayspassedbeforeIcoulduseit,whileweekswentbybeforethelaststiffnessandpainwentoutofit. Andhehaddonenothingbutputhishanduponmyarmandsqueeze.Therehadbeennowrenchingorjerking. Hehadjustclosedhishandwithasteadypressure. WhathemighthavedoneIdidnotfullyrealizetillnextday,whenheputhisheadintothegalley,and,asasignofrenewedfriendliness,askedmehowmyarmwasgettingon. “Itmighthavebeenworse,”hesmiled. Iwaspeelingpotatoes.Hepickedoneupfromthepan.Itwasfair-sized,firm,andunpeeled. Heclosedhishanduponit,squeezed,andthepotatosquirtedoutbetweenhisfingersinmushystreams. Thepulpyremnanthedroppedbackintothepanandturnedaway,andIhadasharpvisionofhowitmighthavefaredwithmehadthemonsterputhisrealstrengthuponme. Butthethreedays’restwasgoodinspiteofitall,forithadgivenmykneetheverychanceitneeded. Itfeltmuchbetter,theswellinghadmateriallydecreased,andthecapseemeddescendingintoitsproperplace. Also,thethreedays’restbroughtthetroubleIhadforeseen. ItwasplainlyThomasMugridge’sintentiontomakemepayforthosethreedays. Hetreatedmevilely,cursedmecontinually,andheapedhisownworkuponme. Heevenventuredtoraisehisfisttome,butIwasbecominganimal-likemyself,andIsnarledinhisfacesoterriblythatitmusthavefrightenedhimback. ItisnopleasantpictureIcanconjureupofmyself,HumphreyVanWeyden,inthatnoisomeship’sgalley,crouchedinacornerovermytask,myfaceraisedtothefaceofthecreatureabouttostrikeme,mylipsliftedandsnarlinglikeadog’s,myeyesgleamingwithfearandhelplessnessandthecouragethatcomesoffearandhelplessness.Idonotlikethepicture. Itremindsmetoostronglyofaratinatrap. Idonotcaretothinkofit;butitwaselective,forthethreatenedblowdidnotdescend. ThomasMugridgebackedaway,glaringashatefullyandviciouslyasIglared. Apairofbeastsiswhatwewere,pennedtogetherandshowingourteeth. Hewasacoward,afraidtostrikemebecauseIhadnotquailedsufficientlyinadvance;sohechoseanewwaytointimidateme. Therewasonlyonegalleyknifethat,asaknife,amountedtoanything. This,throughmanyyearsofserviceandwear,hadacquiredalong,leanblade. Itwasunusuallycruel-looking,andatfirstIhadshudderedeverytimeIusedit. ThecookborrowedastonefromJohansenandproceededtosharpentheknife. Hediditwithgreatostentation,glancingsignificantlyatmethewhile.Hewhetteditupanddownalldaylong. Everyoddmomenthecouldfindhehadtheknifeandstoneoutandwaswhettingaway.Thesteelacquiredarazoredge. Hetrieditwiththeballofhisthumboracrossthenail. Heshavedhairsfromthebackofhishand,glancedalongtheedgewithmicroscopicacuteness,andfound,orfeignedthathefound,always,aslightinequalityinitsedgesomewhere. Thenhewouldputitonthestoneagainandwhet,whet,whet,tillIcouldhavelaughedaloud,itwassoveryludicrous. Itwasalsoserious,forIlearnedthathewascapableofusingit,thatunderallhiscowardicetherewasacourageofcowardice,likemine,thatwouldimpelhimtodotheverythinghiswholenatureprotestedagainstdoingandwasafraidofdoing. “Cooky’ssharpeninghisknifeforHump,”wasbeingwhisperedaboutamongthesailors,andsomeofthemtwittedhimaboutit. Thishetookingoodpart,andwasreallypleased,noddinghisheadwithdirefulforeknowledgeandmystery,untilGeorgeLeach,theerstwhilecabin-boy,venturedsomeroughpleasantryonthesubject. NowithappenedthatLeachwasoneofthesailorstoldofftodouseMugridgeafterhisgameofcardswiththecaptain. LeachhadevidentlydonehistaskwithathoroughnessthatMugridgehadnotforgiven,forwordsfollowedandevilnamesinvolvingsmirchedancestries. Mugridgemenacedwiththeknifehewassharpeningforme. LeachlaughedandhurledmoreofhisTelegraphHillBillingsgate,andbeforeeitherheorIknewwhathadhappened,hisrightarmhadbeenrippedopenfromelbowtowristbyaquickslashoftheknife. Thecookbackedaway,afiendishexpressiononhisface,theknifeheldbeforehiminapositionofdefence. ButLeachtookitquitecalmly,thoughbloodwasspoutinguponthedeckasgenerouslyaswaterfromafountain. “I’mgoin’togetyou,Cooky,”hesaid,“andI’llgetyouhard.AndIwon’tbeinnohurryaboutit.You’llbewithoutthatknifewhenIcomeforyou.” Sosaying,heturnedandwalkedquietlyforward. Mugridge’sfacewaslividwithfearatwhathehaddoneandatwhathemightexpectsoonerorlaterfromthemanhehadstabbed. Buthisdemeanourtowardmewasmoreferociousthanever. Inspiteofhisfearatthereckoninghemustexpecttopayforwhathehaddone,hecouldseethatithadbeenanobject-lessontome,andhebecamemoredomineeringandexultant. Alsotherewasalustinhim,akintomadness,whichhadcomewithsightofthebloodhehaddrawn. Hewasbeginningtoseeredinwhateverdirectionhelooked. Thepsychologyofitissadlytangled,andyetIcouldreadtheworkingsofhismindasclearlyasthoughitwereaprintedbook. Severaldayswentby,theGhoststillfoamingdownthetrades,andIcouldswearIsawmadnessgrowinginThomasMugridge’seyes. AndIconfessthatIbecameafraid,verymuchafraid.Whet,whet,whet,itwentalldaylong. Thelookinhiseyesashefeltthekeenedgeandglaredatmewaspositivelycarnivorous. Iwasafraidtoturnmyshouldertohim,andwhenIleftthegalleyIwentoutbackwards—totheamusementofthesailorsandhunters,whomadeapointofgatheringingroupstowitnessmyexit.Thestrainwastoogreat. Isometimesthoughtmymindwouldgivewayunderit—ameetthingonthisshipofmadmenandbrutes. Everyhour,everyminuteofmyexistencewasinjeopardy. Iwasahumansoulindistress,andyetnosoul,foreoraft,betrayedsufficientsympathytocometomyaid. AttimesIthoughtofthrowingmyselfonthemercyofWolfLarsen,butthevisionofthemockingdevilinhiseyesthatquestionedlifeandsneeredatitwouldcomestronguponmeandcompelmetorefrain. AtothertimesIseriouslycontemplatedsuicide,andthewholeforceofmyhopefulphilosophywasrequiredtokeepmefromgoingoverthesideinthedarknessofnight. SeveraltimesWolfLarsentriedtoinveiglemeintodiscussion,butIgavehimshortanswersandeludedhim. Finally,hecommandedmetoresumemyseatatthecabintableforatimeandletthecookdomywork. ThenIspokefrankly,tellinghimwhatIwasenduringfromThomasMugridgebecauseofthethreedaysoffavouritismwhichhadbeenshownme. WolfLarsenregardedmewithsmilingeyes. “Soyou’reafraid,eh?”hesneered. “Yes,”Isaiddefiantlyandhonestly,“Iamafraid.” “That’sthewaywithyoufellows,”hecried,halfangrily,“sentimentalizingaboutyourimmortalsoulsandafraidtodie. AtsightofasharpknifeandacowardlyCockneytheclingingoflifetolifeovercomesallyourfondfoolishness. Why,mydearfellow,youwillliveforever. Youareagod,andGodcannotbekilled.Cookycannothurtyou.Youaresureofyourresurrection.What’stheretobeafraidof? “Youhaveeternallifebeforeyou.Youareamillionaireinimmortality,andamillionairewhosefortunecannotbelost,whosefortuneislessperishablethanthestarsandaslastingasspaceortime. Itisimpossibleforyoutodiminishyourprincipal. Immortalityisathingwithoutbeginningorend. Eternityiseternity,andthoughyoudiehereandnowyouwillgoonlivingsomewhereelseandhereafter. Anditisallverybeautiful,thisshakingoffofthefleshandsoaringoftheimprisonedspirit.Cookycannothurtyou. Hecanonlygiveyouaboostonthepathyoueternallymusttread. “Or,ifyoudonotwishtobeboostedjustyet,whynotboostCooky? Accordingtoyourideas,he,too,mustbeanimmortalmillionaire.Youcannotbankrupthim.Hispaperwillalwayscirculateatpar. Youcannotdiminishthelengthofhislivingbykillinghim,forheiswithoutbeginningorend. He’sboundtogoonliving,somewhere,somehow.Thenboosthim. Stickaknifeinhimandlethisspiritfree. Asitis,it’sinanastyprison,andyou’lldohimonlyakindnessbybreakingdownthedoor.Andwhoknows? —itmaybeaverybeautifulspiritthatwillgosoaringupintothebluefromthatuglycarcass. Boosthimalong,andI’llpromoteyoutohisplace,andhe’sgettingforty-fivedollarsamonth.” ItwasplainthatIcouldlookfornohelpormercyfromWolfLarsen. WhateverwastobedoneImustdoformyself;andoutofthecourageoffearIevolvedtheplanoffightingThomasMugridgewithhisownweapons.IborrowedawhetstonefromJohansen. Louis,theboat-steerer,hadalreadybeggedmeforcondensedmilkandsugar. Thelazarette,wheresuchdelicacieswerestored,wassituatedbeneaththecabinfloor. Watchingmychance,Istolefivecansofthemilk,andthatnight,whenitwasLouis’swatchondeck,Itradedthemwithhimforadirkasleanandcruel-lookingasThomasMugridge’svegetableknife. Itwasrustyanddull,butIturnedthegrindstonewhileLouisgaveitanedge. Isleptmoresoundlythanusualthatnight. Nextmorning,afterbreakfast,ThomasMugridgebeganhiswhet,whet,whet. Iglancedwarilyathim,forIwasonmykneestakingtheashesfromthestove. WhenIreturnedfromthrowingthemoverside,hewastalkingtoHarrison,whosehonestyokel’sfacewasfilledwithfascinationandwonder. “Yes,”Mugridgewassaying,“an’wotdoes’isworshipdobutgivemetwoyearsinReading.ButblimeyifIcared.Theothermugwasfixedplenty.Should’aseen’im.Knifejustlikethis. Istuckitin,likeintosoftbutter,an’thew’y’esquealedwasbetter’natu-pennygaff.” HeshotaglanceinmydirectiontoseeifIwastakingitin,andwenton. “‘Ididn’tmeanitTommy,’’ewassnifflin’;‘so’elpmeGawd,Ididn’tmeanit!’ ‘I’llfixyerbloodywellright,’Isez,an’keptrightafter’im. Icut’iminribbons,that’swotIdid,an’’ea-squealin’allthetime. Once’egot’is’andontheknifean’triedto’oldit. ‘Ad’isfingersaroundit,butIpulleditthrough,cuttin’tothebone.O,’ewasasight,Icantellyer.” Acallfromthemateinterruptedthegorynarrative,andHarrisonwentaft. Mugridgesatdownontheraisedthresholdtothegalleyandwentonwithhisknife-sharpening. Iputtheshovelawayandcalmlysatdownonthecoal-boxfacinghim.Hefavouredmewithaviciousstare. Stillcalmly,thoughmyheartwasgoingpitapat,IpulledoutLouis’sdirkandbegantowhetitonthestone. IhadlookedforalmostanysortofexplosionontheCockney’spart,buttomysurprisehedidnotappearawareofwhatIwasdoing.Hewentonwhettinghisknife. SodidI.Andfortwohourswesatthere,facetoface,whet,whet,whet,tillthenewsofitspreadabroadandhalftheship’scompanywascrowdingthegalleydoorstoseethesight. Encouragementandadvicewerefreelytendered,andJockHorner,thequiet,self-spokenhunterwholookedasthoughhewouldnotharmamouse,advisedmetoleavetheribsaloneandtothrustupwardfortheabdomen,atthesametimegivingwhathecalledthe“Spanishtwist”totheblade. Leach,hisbandagedarmprominentlytothefore,beggedmetoleaveafewremnantsofthecookforhim;andWolfLarsenpausedonceortwiceatthebreakofthepooptoglancecuriouslyatwhatmusthavebeentohimastirringandcrawlingoftheyeastythingheknewaslife. AndImakefreetosaythatforthetimebeinglifeassumedthesamesordidvaluestome. Therewasnothingprettyaboutit,nothingdivine—onlytwocowardlymovingthingsthatsatwhettingsteeluponstone,andagroupofothermovingthings,cowardlyandotherwise,thatlookedon. Halfofthem,Iamsure,wereanxioustoseeussheddingeachother’sblood.Itwouldhavebeenentertainment. AndIdonotthinktherewasonewhowouldhaveinterferedhadweclosedinadeath-struggle. Ontheotherhand,thewholethingwaslaughableandchildish. Whet,whet,whet,—HumphreyVanWeydensharpeninghisknifeinaship’sgalleyandtryingitsedgewithhisthumb! Ofallsituationsthiswasthemostinconceivable. Iknowthatmyownkindcouldnothavebelieveditpossible. Ihadnotbeencalled“Sissy”VanWeydenallmydayswithoutreason,andthat“Sissy”VanWeydenshouldbecapableofdoingthisthingwasarevelationtoHumphreyVanWeyden,whoknewnotwhethertobeexultantorashamed. Butnothinghappened.AttheendoftwohoursThomasMugridgeputawayknifeandstoneandheldouthishand. “Wot’sthegoodofmykin’a’olyshowofourselvesforthemmugs?”hedemanded. “Theydon’tloveus,an’bloodywellgladthey’dbea-seein’uscuttin’ourthroats.Yernot’arfbad,’Ump! You’vegotspunk,asyouYankss’y,an’Ilikeyerinaw’y.Socomeonan’shyke.” CowardthatImightbe,Iwaslessacowardthanhe.ItwasadistinctvictoryIhadgained,andIrefusedtoforegoanyofitbyshakinghisdetestablehand. “Allright,”hesaidpridelessly,“tykeitorleaveit,I’lllikeyernonethelessforit.” Andtosavehisfaceheturnedfiercelyupontheonlookers. “Getoutamygalley-doors,youbloomin’swabs!” Thiscommandwasreinforcedbyasteamingkettleofwater,andatsightofitthesailorsscrambledoutoftheway. ThiswasasortofvictoryforThomasMugridge,andenabledhimtoacceptmoregracefullythedefeatIhadgivenhim,though,ofcourse,hewastoodiscreettoattempttodrivethehuntersaway. “IseeCooky’sfinish,”IheardSmokesaytoHorner. “Youbet,”wasthereply.“Humprunsthegalleyfromnowon,andCookypullsinhishorns.” Mugridgeheardandshotaswiftglanceatme,butIgavenosignthattheconversationhadreachedme. Ihadnotthoughtmyvictorywassofar-reachingandcomplete,butIresolvedtoletgonothingIhadgained. Asthedayswentby,Smoke’sprophecywasverified. TheCockneybecamemorehumbleandslavishtomethaneventoWolfLarsen. Imisteredhimandsirredhimnolonger,washednomoregreasypots,andpeelednomorepotatoes. Ididmyownwork,andmyownworkonly,andwhenandinwhatfashionIsawfit. AlsoIcarriedthedirkinasheathatmyhip,sailor-fashion,andmaintainedtowardThomasMugridgeaconstantattitudewhichwascomposedofequalpartsofdomineering,insult,andcontempt. 
