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IthasdawneduponmethatIhaveneverplacedapropervaluationuponwomankind.
Forthatmatter,thoughnotamativetoanyconsiderabledegreesofarasIhavediscovered,Iwasneveroutsidetheatmosphereofwomenuntilnow.
Mymotherandsisterswerealwaysaboutme,andIwasalwaystryingtoescapethem;fortheyworriedmetodistractionwiththeirsolicitudeformyhealthandwiththeirperiodicinroadsonmyden,whenmyorderlyconfusion,uponwhichIpridedmyself,wasturnedintoworseconfusionandlessorder,thoughitlookedneatenoughtotheeye.
Inevercouldfindanythingwhentheyhaddeparted.
Butnow,alas,howwelcomewouldhavebeenthefeeloftheirpresence,thefrou-frouandswish-swishoftheirskirtswhichIhadsocordiallydetested!
Iamsure,ifIevergethome,thatIshallneverbeirritablewiththemagain.
Theymaydosemeanddoctormemorning,noon,andnight,anddustandsweepandputmydentorightseveryminuteoftheday,andIshallonlyleanbackandsurveyitallandbethankfulinthatIampossessedofamotherandsomeseveralsisters.
Allofwhichhassetmewondering.WherearethemothersofthesetwentyandoddmenontheGhost?
Itstrikesmeasunnaturalandunhealthfulthatmenshouldbetotallyseparatedfromwomenandherdthroughtheworldbythemselves.
Coarsenessandsavageryaretheinevitableresults.
Thesemenaboutmeshouldhavewives,andsisters,anddaughters;thenwouldtheybecapableofsoftness,andtenderness,andsympathy.Asitis,notoneofthemismarried.
Inyearsandyearsnotoneofthemhasbeenincontactwithagoodwoman,orwithintheinfluence,orredemption,whichirresistiblyradiatesfromsuchacreature.Thereisnobalanceintheirlives.
Theirmasculinity,whichinitselfisofthebrute,hasbeenover-developed.
Theotherandspiritualsideoftheirnatureshasbeendwarfed—atrophied,infact.
Theyareacompanyofcelibates,grindingharshlyagainstoneanotherandgrowingdailymorecallousedfromthegrinding.
Itseemstomeimpossiblesometimesthattheyeverhadmothers.
Itwouldappearthattheyareahalf-brute,half-humanspecies,araceapart,whereinthereisnosuchthingassex;thattheyarehatchedoutbythesunliketurtleeggs,orreceivelifeinsomesimilarandsordidfashion;andthatalltheirdaystheyfesterinbrutalityandviciousness,andintheenddieasunlovelyastheyhavelived.
Renderedcuriousbythisnewdirectionofideas,ItalkedwithJohansenlastnight—thefirstsuperfluouswordswithwhichhehasfavouredmesincethevoyagebegan.
HeleftSwedenwhenhewaseighteen,isnowthirty-eight,andinalltheinterveningtimehasnotbeenhomeonce.
Hehadmetatownsman,acoupleofyearsbefore,insomesailorboarding-houseinChile,sothatheknewhismothertobestillalive.
“Shemustbeaprettyoldwomannow,”hesaid,staringmeditativelyintothebinnacleandthenjerkingasharpglanceatHarrison,whowassteeringapointoffthecourse.
“Whendidyoulastwritetoher?”
Heperformedhismentalarithmeticaloud.“Eighty-one;no—eighty-two,eh?no—eighty-three?Yes,eighty-three.Tenyearsago.FromsomelittleportinMadagascar.Iwastrading.
“Yousee,”hewenton,asthoughaddressinghisneglectedmotheracrosshalfthegirthoftheearth,“eachyearIwasgoinghome.Sowhatwasthegoodtowrite?Itwasonlyayear.
Andeachyearsomethinghappened,andIdidnotgo.
ButIammate,now,andwhenIpayoffat’Frisco,maybewithfivehundreddollars,IwillshipmyselfonawindjammerroundtheHorntoLiverpool,whichwillgivememoremoney;andthenIwillpaymypassagefromtherehome.Thenshewillnotdoanymorework.”
“Butdoesshework?now?Howoldisshe?”
“Aboutseventy,”heanswered.Andthen,boastingly,“Weworkfromthetimewearebornuntilwedie,inmycountry.That’swhywelivesolong.Iwilllivetoahundred.”
Ishallneverforgetthisconversation.ThewordswerethelastIeverheardhimutter.
Perhapstheywerethelasthedidutter,too.
For,goingdownintothecabintoturnin,Idecidedthatitwastoostuffytosleepbelow.Itwasacalmnight.
WewereoutoftheTrades,andtheGhostwasforgingaheadbarelyaknotanhour.
SoItuckedablanketandpillowundermyarmandwentupondeck.
AsIpassedbetweenHarrisonandthebinnacle,whichwasbuiltintothetopofthecabin,Inoticedthathewasthistimefullythreepointsoff.
Thinkingthathewasasleep,andwishinghimtoescapereprimandorworse,Ispoketohim.Buthewasnotasleep.Hiseyeswerewideandstaring.
Heseemedgreatlyperturbed,unabletoreplytome.
“What’sthematter?”Iasked.“Areyousick?”
Heshookhishead,andwithadeepsignasofawakening,caughthisbreath.
“You’dbettergetonyourcourse,then,”Ichided.
Heputafewspokesover,andIwatchedthecompass-cardswingslowlytoN.N.W.andsteadyitselfwithslightoscillations.
Itookafreshholdonmybedclothesandwaspreparingtostarton,whensomemovementcaughtmyeyeandIlookedasterntotherail.
Asinewyhand,drippingwithwater,wasclutchingtherail.
Asecondhandtookforminthedarknessbesideit.Iwatched,fascinated.
WhatvisitantfromthegloomofthedeepwasItobehold?
Whateveritwas,Iknewthatitwasclimbingaboardbythelog-line.
Isawahead,thehairwetandstraight,shapeitself,andthentheunmistakableeyesandfaceofWolfLarsen.
Hisrightcheekwasredwithblood,whichflowedfromsomewoundinthehead.
Hedrewhimselfinboardwithaquickeffort,andarosetohisfeet,glancingswiftly,ashedidso,atthemanatthewheel,asthoughtoassurehimselfofhisidentityandthattherewasnothingtofearfromhim.Thesea-waterwasstreamingfromhim.
Itmadelittleaudiblegurgleswhichdistractedme.
AshesteppedtowardmeIshrankbackinstinctively,forIsawthatinhiseyeswhichspelleddeath.
“Allright,Hump,”hesaidinalowvoice.“Where’sthemate?”
Ishookmyhead.
“Johansen!”hecalledsoftly.“Johansen!”
“Whereishe?”hedemandedofHarrison.
Theyoungfellowseemedtohaverecoveredhiscomposure,forheansweredsteadilyenough,“Idon’tknow,sir.Isawhimgofor’ardalittlewhileago.”
“SodidIgofor’ard.ButyouwillobservethatIdidn’tcomebackthewayIwent.Canyouexplainit?”
“Youmusthavebeenoverboard,sir.”
“ShallIlookforhiminthesteerage,sir?”Iasked.
WolfLarsenshookhishead.“Youwouldn’tfindhim,Hump.Butyou’lldo.Comeon.Nevermindyourbedding.Leaveitwhereitis.”
Ifollowedathisheels.Therewasnothingstirringamidships.
“Thosecursedhunters,”washiscomment.“Toodamnedfatandlazytostandafour-hourwatch.”
Butontheforecastle-headwefoundthreesailorsasleep.
Heturnedthemoverandlookedattheirfaces.
Theycomposedthewatchondeck,anditwastheship’scustom,ingoodweather,toletthewatchsleepwiththeexceptionoftheofficer,thehelmsman,andthelook-out.
“Who’slook-out?”hedemanded.
“Me,sir,”answeredHolyoak,oneofthedeep-watersailors,aslighttremorinhisvoice.“Iwinkedoffjustthisveryminute,sir.I’msorry,sir.Itwon’thappenagain.”
“Didyouhearorseeanythingondeck?”
“No,sir,I—”
ButWolfLarsenhadturnedawaywithasnortofdisgust,leavingthesailorrubbinghiseyeswithsurpriseathavingbeenletofsoeasily.
“Softly,now,”WolfLarsenwarnedmeinawhisper,ashedoubledhisbodyintotheforecastlescuttleandpreparedtodescend.
Ifollowedwithaquakingheart.WhatwastohappenIknewnomorethandidIknowwhathadhappened.
Butbloodhadbeenshed,anditwasthroughnowhimofWolfLarsenthathehadgoneoverthesidewithhisscalplaidopen.Besides,Johansenwasmissing.
Itwasmyfirstdescentintotheforecastle,andIshallnotsoonforgetmyimpressionofit,caughtasIstoodonmyfeetatthebottomoftheladder.
Builtdirectlyintheeyesoftheschooner,itwasoftheshapeofatriangle,alongthethreesidesofwhichstoodthebunks,indouble-tier,twelveofthem.
ItwasnolargerthanahallbedroominGrubStreet,andyettwelvemenwereherdedintoittoeatandsleepandcarryonallthefunctionsofliving.
Mybedroomathomewasnotlarge,yetitcouldhavecontainedadozensimilarforecastles,andtakingintoconsiderationtheheightoftheceiling,ascoreatleast.
Itsmelledsourandmusty,andbythedimlightoftheswingingsea-lampIsaweverybitofavailablewall-spacehungdeepwithsea-boots,oilskins,andgarments,cleananddirty,ofvarioussorts.
Theseswungbackandforthwitheveryrollofthevessel,givingrisetoabrushingsound,asoftreesagainstarooforwall.
Somewhereabootthumpedloudlyandatirregularintervalsagainstthewall;and,thoughitwasamildnightonthesea,therewasacontinualchorusofthecreakingtimbersandbulkheadsandofabysmalnoisesbeneaththeflooring.
Thesleepersdidnotmind.Therewereeightofthem,—thetwowatchesbelow,—andtheairwasthickwiththewarmthandodouroftheirbreathing,andtheearwasfilledwiththenoiseoftheirsnoringandoftheirsighsandhalf-groans,tokensplainoftherestoftheanimal-man.Butweretheysleeping?allofthem?Orhadtheybeensleeping?
ThiswasevidentlyWolfLarsen’squest—tofindthemenwhoappearedtobeasleepandwhowerenotasleeporwhohadnotbeenasleepveryrecently.
AndhewentaboutitinawaythatremindedmeofastoryoutofBoccaccio.
Hetookthesea-lampfromitsswingingframeandhandedittome.
Hebeganatthefirstbunksforwardonthestar-boardside.
InthetoponelayOofty-Oofty,aKanakaandsplendidseaman,sonamedbyhismates.
Hewasasleeponhisbackandbreathingasplacidlyasawoman.
Onearmwasunderhishead,theotherlayontopoftheblankets.
WolfLarsenputthumbandforefingertothewristandcountedthepulse.InthemidstofittheKanakaroused.Heawokeasgentlyasheslept.
Therewasnomovementofthebodywhatever.Theeyes,only,moved.
Theyflashedwideopen,bigandblack,andstared,unblinking,intoourfaces.
WolfLarsenputhisfingertohislipsasasignforsilence,andtheeyesclosedagain.
InthelowerbunklayLouis,grosslyfatandwarmandsweaty,asleepunfeignedlyandsleepinglaboriously.
WhileWolfLarsenheldhiswristhestirreduneasily,bowinghisbodysothatforamomentitrestedonshouldersandheels.
Hislipsmoved,andhegavevoicetothisenigmaticutterance:
“Ashilling’sworthaquarter;butkeepyourlampsoutforthruppenny-bits,orthepublicans’llshove’emonyouforsixpence.”
Thenherolledoveronhissidewithaheavy,sobbingsigh,saying:
“Asixpenceisatanner,andashillingabob;butwhataponyisIdon’tknow.”
SatisfiedwiththehonestyofhisandtheKanaka’ssleep,WolfLarsenpassedontothenexttwobunksonthestarboardside,occupiedtopandbottom,aswesawinthelightofthesea-lamp,byLeachandJohnson.
AsWolfLarsenbentdowntothelowerbunktotakeJohnson’spulse,I,standingerectandholdingthelamp,sawLeach’sheadrisestealthilyashepeeredoverthesideofhisbunktoseewhatwasgoingon.
HemusthavedivinedWolfLarsen’strickandthesurenessofdetection,forthelightwasatoncedashedfrommyhandandtheforecastlewasleftindarkness.
Hemusthaveleaped,also,atthesameinstant,straightdownonWolfLarsen.
Thefirstsoundswerethoseofaconflictbetweenabullandawolf.
IheardagreatinfuriatedbellowgoupfromWolfLarsen,andfromLeachasnarlingthatwasdesperateandblood-curdling.
Johnsonmusthavejoinedhimimmediately,sothathisabjectandgrovellingconductondeckforthepastfewdayshadbeennomorethanplanneddeception.
Iwassoterror-strickenbythisfightinthedarkthatIleanedagainsttheladder,tremblingandunabletoascend.
Anduponmewasthatoldsicknessatthepitofthestomach,causedalwaysbythespectacleofphysicalviolence.
InthisinstanceIcouldnotsee,butIcouldheartheimpactoftheblows—thesoftcrushingsoundmadebyfleshstrikingforciblyagainstflesh.
Thentherewasthecrashingaboutoftheentwinedbodies,thelabouredbreathing,theshortquickgaspsofsuddenpain.
Theremusthavebeenmoremenintheconspiracytomurderthecaptainandmate,forbythesoundsIknewthatLeachandJohnsonhadbeenquicklyreinforcedbysomeoftheirmates.
“Getaknifesomebody!”Leachwasshouting.
“Poundhimonthehead!Mashhisbrainsout!”wasJohnson’scry.
Butafterhisfirstbellow,WolfLarsenmadenonoise.
Hewasfightinggrimlyandsilentlyforlife.Hewassorebeset.
Downattheveryfirst,hehadbeenunabletogainhisfeet,andforallofhistremendousstrengthIfeltthattherewasnohopeforhim.
Theforcewithwhichtheystruggledwasvividlyimpressedonme;forIwasknockeddownbytheirsurgingbodiesandbadlybruised.
ButintheconfusionImanagedtocrawlintoanemptylowerbunkoutoftheway.
“Allhands!We’vegothim!We’vegothim!”IcouldhearLeachcrying.
“Who?”demandedthosewhohadbeenreallyasleep,andwhohadwakenedtotheyknewnotwhat.
“It’sthebloodymate!”wasLeach’scraftyanswer,strainedfromhiminasmotheredsortofway.
Thiswasgreetedwithwhoopsofjoy,andfromthenonWolfLarsenhadsevenstrongmenontopofhim,Louis,Ibelieve,takingnopartinit.
Theforecastlewaslikeanangryhiveofbeesarousedbysomemarauder.
“Whatho!belowthere!”IheardLatimershoutdownthescuttle,toocautioustodescendintotheinfernoofpassionhecouldhearragingbeneathhiminthedarkness.
“Won’tsomebodygetaknife?Oh,won’tsomebodygetaknife?”Leachpleadedinthefirstintervalofcomparativesilence.
Thenumberoftheassailantswasacauseofconfusion.
Theyblockedtheirownefforts,whileWolfLarsen,withbutasinglepurpose,achievedhis.
Thiswastofighthiswayacrossthefloortotheladder.
Thoughintotaldarkness,Ifollowedhisprogressbyitssound.
Nomanlessthanagiantcouldhavedonewhathedid,oncehehadgainedthefootoftheladder.
Stepbystep,bythemightofhisarms,thewholepackofmenstrivingtodraghimbackanddown,hedrewhisbodyupfromthefloortillhestooderect.
Andthen,stepbystep,handandfoot,heslowlystruggleduptheladder.
Theverylastofall,Isaw.ForLatimer,havingfinallygoneforalantern,helditsothatitslightshonedownthescuttle.
WolfLarsenwasnearlytothetop,thoughIcouldnotseehim.
Allthatwasvisiblewasthemassofmenfasteneduponhim.
Itsquirmedabout,likesomehugemany-leggedspider,andswayedbackandforthtotheregularrollofthevessel.
Andstill,stepbystepwithlongintervalsbetween,themassascended.
Onceittottered,abouttofallback,butthebrokenholdwasregainedanditstillwentup.
“Whoisit?”Latimercried.
IntheraysofthelanternIcouldseehisperplexedfacepeeringdown.
“Larsen,”Iheardamuffledvoicefromwithinthemass.
Latimerreacheddownwithhisfreehand.Isawahandshootuptoclasphis.
Latimerpulled,andthenextcoupleofstepsweremadewitharush.
ThenWolfLarsen’sotherhandreachedupandclutchedtheedgeofthescuttle.
Themassswungclearoftheladder,themenstillclingingtotheirescapingfoe.
Theybegantodropoff,tobebrushedoffagainstthesharpedgeofthescuttle,tobeknockedoffbythelegswhichwerenowkickingpowerfully.
Leachwasthelasttogo,fallingsheerbackfromthetopofthescuttleandstrikingonheadandshouldersuponhissprawlingmatesbeneath.
WolfLarsenandthelanterndisappeared,andwewereleftindarkness.
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