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THE DAY CAME FOR OUR DEPARTURE. There was no longer anything
to detain us on Endeavor Island. The Ghost's stumpy masts were
in place, her crazy sails bent. All my handiwork was strong, none
of it beautiful; but I knew that it would work, and I felt myself
a man of power as I looked at it.
'I did it! I did it! With my own hands I did it!' I wanted
to cry aloud.
But Maud and I had a way of voicing each other's thoughts;
and she said, as we prepared to hoist the mainsail:
'To think, Humphrey, you did it all with your own hands!'
'But there were two other hands,' I answered- 'two small hands.
And don't say that was also a phrase of your father's.'
She shook her head and laughed, and held her hands up for inspection.
'I can never get them clean again,' she wailed, 'nor soften
the weather-beat.'
'Then dirt and weather-beat shall be your guerdon of honor,'
I said, holding them in mine; and, spite of my resolutions, I
would have kissed the two dear hands had she not swiftly withdrawn
them.
Our comradeship was becoming tremulous. I had mastered my love
long and well, but now it was mastering me. Willfully had it disobeyed
and won my eyes to speech, and now it was winning my tongue- aye,
and my lips, for they were mad this moment to kiss the two small
hands which had toiled so faithfully and hard. And I, too, was
mad. There was a cry in my being like bugles calling me to her.
And there was a wind blowing upon me which I could not resist,
swaying the very body of me till I leaned toward her, all unconscious
that I leaned. And she knew it. She could not but know it as she
swiftly drew away her hands, and yet could not forbear one quick
searching look before she turned away her eyes.
By means of deck-tackles I had arranged to carry the halyards
forward to the windlass; and now I hoisted the mainsail, peak
and throat, at the same time. It was a clumsy way, but it did
not take long, and soon the foresail as well was up and fluttering.
'We can never get that anchor up in this narrow place, once
it has left the bottom,' I said. 'We should be on the rocks first.'
'What can you do?' she asked.
'Slip it,' my answer. 'And when I do, you must do your first
work on the windlass. I shall have to run at once to the wheel,
and at the same time you must be hoisting the jib.'
This maneuver of getting under way I had studied and worked
out a score of times; and, with the jib-halyard to the windlass,
I knew Maud was capable of hoisting that most necessary sail.
A brisk wind was blowing into the cover, and, though the water
was calm, rapid work was required to get us safely out.
When I knocked the shackle-bolt loose, the chain roared out
through the hawse-hole and into the sea. I raced aft, putting
the wheel up. The Ghost seemed to start into life as she heeled
to the first fill of her sails. The jib was rising. As it filled,
the Ghost's bow swung off, and I had to put the wheel down a few
spokes and steady her.
I had devised an automatic jib-sheet which passed the jib across
of itself, so there was no need for Maud to attend to that; but
she was still hoisting the jib when I put the wheel hard down.
It was a moment of anxiety, for the Ghost was rushing directly
upon the beach, a stone's throw distant. But she swung obediently
on her heel into the wind. There was a great fluttering and flapping
of canvas and reef-points, most welcome to my ears, then she filled
away on the other tack.
Maud had finished her task and come aft, where she stood beside
me, a small cap perched on her wind-blown hair, her cheeks flushed
from exertion, her eyes wide and bright with the excitement, her
nostrils quivering to the rush and bite of the fresh salt air.
Her brown eyes were like a startled deer's. There was a wild,
keen look in them I had never seen before, and her lips parted
and her breath suspended as the Ghost, charging upon the wall
of rock at the entrance to the inner cove, swept into the wind
and filled away into safe water.
My first mate's berth on the sealing-grounds stood me in good
stead, and I cleared the inner cove and laid a long tack along
the shore of the outer cover. Once again about, and the Ghost
headed out to open sea. She had now caught the bosom-breathing
of the ocean, and was herself abreath with the rhythm of it as
she smoothly mounted and slipped down each broad-backed wave.
The day had been dull and overcast, but the sun now burst through
the clouds, a welcome omen, and shone upon the curving beach where
together we had dared the lords of the harem and slain the holluschickie.
All Endeavor Island brightened under the sun. Even the grim southwestern
promontory showed less grim, and here and there, where the sea-spray
wet its surface, high lights flashed and dazzled in the sun.
'I shall always think of it with pride,' I said to Maud.
She threw her head back in a queenly way, but sad, 'Dear, dear
Endeavor Island! I shall always love it.'
'And I,' I said quickly.
It seemed our eyes must meet in a great understanding, and
yet, loath, they struggled away and did not meet.
There was a silence I might almost call awkward, till I broke
it, saying:
'See those black clouds to windward. You remember, I told you
last night the barometer was falling.'
'And the sun is gone,' she said, her eyes still fixed upon
our island where we had proved our mastery over matter and attained
to the truest comradeship which may fall to man and woman.
'And it's slack off the sheets for Japan!' I cried gaily. 'A
fair wind and a flowing sheet, you know, or however it goes.'
Lashing the wheel, I ran forward, eased the fore- and main-sheets,
took in on the boom-tackles, and trimmed everything for the quartering
breeze which was ours. Unfortunately, when running free it is
impossible to lash the wheel, so I faced an all-night watch. Maud
insisted on relieving me, but proved that she had not the strength
to steer in a heavy sea, even if she could have gained the wisdom
on such short notice. She appeared quite heartbroken over the
discovery, but recovered her spirits by coiling down tackles and
halyards and all stray ropes. Then there were meals to be cooked
in the galley, beds to make, Wolf Larsen to be attended upon,
and she finished the day with a grand house-cleaning attack upon
the cabin and steerage.
All night I steered, without relief, the wind slowly and steadily
increasing and the sea rising. At five in the morning Maud brought
me hot coffee and biscuits she had baked, and at seven a substantial
and piping hot breakfast put new life into me.
Throughout the day, and as slowly and steadily as ever, the
wind increased. And still the Ghost foamed along, racing off the
miles till I was certain she was making at least eleven knots.
It was too good to lose, but by nightfall I was exhausted. Though
in splendid physical trim, a thirty-six-hour trick at the wheel
was the limit of my endurance. Besides, I knew, if the wind and
sea, increased at the same rate during the night, that it would
soon be impossible to heave to. So, as twilight deepened, gladly,
and at the same time reluctantly, I brought the Ghost up on the
wind.
But I had not reckoned upon the colossal task the reefing of
three sails meant for one man. While running away from the wind
I had not appreciated its force, but when we ceased to run, I
learned, to my sorry, and well-nigh to my despair, how fiercely
it was really blowing. The wind balked my every effort, ripping
the canvas out of my hands and in an instant undoing what I had
gained by ten minutes of severest struggle. At eight o'clock I
had succeeded only in putting the second reef into the foresail.
At eleven o'clock I was no further along. Blood dripped from every
finger-end, while the nails were broken to the quick. From pain
and sheer exhaustion, I wept in the darkness, secretly, so that
Maud should not know.
Then, in desperation, I abandoned the attempt to reef the mainsail,
and resolved to try the experiment of heaving to under the close-reefed
foresail. Three hours more were required to gasket the mainsail
and jib, and at two in the morning, nearly dead, the life almost
buffeted and worked out of me, I had barely sufficient consciousness
to know the experiment was a success.
I was famished, but Maud tried vainly to get me to eat. So
sleepily helpless was I that she was compelled to hold me in my
chair to prevent my being flung to the floor by the violent pitching
of the schooner.
Of the passage from the galley to the cabin I knew nothing.
In fact, I was aware of nothing till I awoke in my bunk, with
my boots off. It was dark. I was stiff and lame, and cried out
with pain when the bedclothes touched my poor finger-ends. Morning
had evidently not come, so I closed my eyes and went to sleep
again. I did not know it, but I had slept the clock around and
it was night again.
Once more I awoke, troubled because I could sleep no better.
I struck a match and looked at my watch. It marked midnight. And
I had not left the deck until three! I should have been puzzled
had I not guessed the solution. No wonder I was sleeping brokenly.
I had slept twenty-one hours. I listened for a while to the behavior
of the Ghost, to the pounding of the seas and the muffled roar
of the wind on deck and then turned over on my side and slept
peacefully until morning.
When I arose at seven I saw no sign of Maud, and concluded
she was in the galley preparing breakfast. On deck I found the
Ghost doing splendidly under her patch of canvas. But in the galley,
though a fire was burning and water boiling, I found no Maud.
I discovered her in the steerage, by Wolf Larsen's bunk. I
looked at him- the man who had been hurled down from the topmost
pitch of life to be buried alive and be worse than dead. There
seemed a relaxation of his expressionless face which was new.
Maud looked at me, and I understood.
'His life flickered out in the storm,' I said.
'But he still lives,' she answered, infinite faith in her voice.
'He had too great strength.'
'Yes,' she said; 'but now it no longer shackles him. He is
a free spirit.'
'He is a free spirit surely,' I answered; and, taking her hand,
I led her on deck.
The storm broke that night, which is to say that it diminished
as slowly as it had arisen. After breakfast next morning, when
I had hoisted Wolf Larsen's body on deck ready for burial, it
was still blowing heavily and a large sea was running. The deck
was continually awash with the sea which came inboard over the
rail and through the scuppers. The wind smote the schooner with
a sudden gust, and she heeled over till her lee rail was buried,
the roar in her rigging rising in pitch to a shriek. We stood
in the water to our knees as I bared my head.
'I remember only one part of the service,' I said, 'and that
is, "And the body shall be cast into the sea."'
Maud looked at me, surprised and shocked; but the spirit of
something I had seen before was strong upon me, impelling me to
give service to Wolf Larsen as Wolf Larsen had once given service
to another man. I lifted the end of the hatch-cover, and the canvas-shrouded
body slipped feet first into the sea. The weight of iron dragged
it down. It was gone.
'Good-by, Lucifer, proud spirit!' Maud whispered so low that
it was drowned by the shouting of the wind; but I saw the movement
of her lips, and knew.
As we clung to the lee rail and worked our way aft, I happened
to glance to leeward. The Ghost, at the moment, was uptossed on
a sea, and I caught a clear view of a small steamship two or three
miles away, rolling and pitching head on to the sea as it steamed
toward us. It was painted black, and from the talk of the hunters
of their poaching exploits I recognized it as a United States
revenue cutter. I pointed it out to Maud, and hurriedly led her
aft to the safety of the poop.
I started to rush below to the flag-locker, then remembered
that in rigging the Ghost I had forgotten to make provisions for
a flag-halyard.
'We need no distress signal,' Maud said. 'They have only to
see us.'
'We are saved!' I said soberly and solemnly. And then, in an
exuberance of joy, 'I hardly know whether to be glad or not.'
I looked at her. Our eyes were not loath to meet. We leaned
toward each other, and before I knew it, my arms were about her.
'Need I?' I asked.
And she answered: 'There is no need; though the telling of
it would be sweet, so sweet.'
Her lips met the press of mine, and, by what strange trick
of the imagination I know not, the scene in the cabin of the Ghost
flashed upon me, when she had pressed her fingers lightly on my
lips and said, 'Hush, hush.'
'My woman, my one small woman,' I said, my free hand petting
her shoulder in the way all lovers know though never learn in
school.
'My man,' she said, looking at me for an instant with tremulous
lids which fluttered down and veiled her eyes as she rested her
head against my breast with a happy little sigh.
I looked toward the cutter. It was very close. A boat was being
lowered.
'One kiss, dear love,' I whispered. 'One kiss more before they
come.'
'And rescue us from ourselves,' she completed, with a most
adorable smile, whimsical as I had never seen it, for it was whimsical
with love.
THE END
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