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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.
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