, . , . , . , -, . "" . . , -, -- - . The reaction from my fear, and the knowledge that the terrible deed I had come to do was no longer necessary, made me boyish and eager. I went up the steerage companion-way two steps at a time, with nothing distinct in my mind except joy and the hope that Maud would sleep on until the surprise breakfast was quite ready for her. As I rounded the galley, a new satisfaction was mine at thought of all the splendid cooking utensils inside. I sprang up the break of the poop, and saw - Wolf Larsen. What of my impetus and the stunning surprise, I clattered three or four steps along the deck before I could stop myself. He was standing in the companion-way, only his head and shoulders visible, staring straight at me. His arms were resting on the half-open slide. He made no movement whatever - simply stood there, staring at me. л , , , , , , . , , , , , , . , , . ... ! , , . -, -- , -- . . . I began to tremble. The old stomach sickness clutched me. I put one hand on the edge of the house to steady myself. My lips seemed suddenly dry and I moistened them against the need of speech. Nor did I for an instant take my eyes off him. Neither of us spoke. There was something ominous in his silence, his immobility. All my old fear of him returned and by new fear was increased an hundred- fold. And still we stood, the pair of us, staring at each other. . , , . , . , . , . - . . . I was aware of the demand for action, and, my old helplessness strong upon me, I was waiting for him to take the initiative. Then, as the moments went by, it came to me that the situation was analogous to the one in which I had approached the long-maned bull, my intention of clubbing obscured by fear until it became a desire to make him run. So it was at last impressed upon me that I was there, not to have Wolf Larsen take the initiative, but to take it myself. , , , , . , , , , , , , . , , , . I cocked both barrels and levelled the shot-gun at him. Had he moved, attempted to drop down the companion-way, I know I would have shot him. But he stood motionless and staring as before. And as I faced him, with levelled gun shaking in my hands, I had time to note the worn and haggard appearance of his face. It was as if some strong anxiety had wasted it. The cheeks were sunken, and there was a wearied, puckered expression on the brow. And it seemed to me that his eyes were strange, not only the expression, but the physical seeming, as though the optic nerves and supporting muscles had suffered strain and slightly twisted the eyeballs. . , , , , . . , , . - . , , . , . - . All this I saw, and my brain now working rapidly, I thought a thousand thoughts; and yet I could not pull the triggers. I lowered the gun and stepped to the corner of the cabin, primarily to relieve the tension on my nerves and to make a new start, and incidentally to be closer. Again I raised the gun. He was almost at arm's length. There was no hope for him. I was resolved. There was no possible chance of missing him, no matter how poor my marksmanship. And yet I wrestled with myself and could not pull the triggers. , . , . , -- -- . . - . . . , . . "Well?" he demanded impatiently. -- ? -- . I strove vainly to force my fingers down on the triggers, and vainly I strove to say something. , - . "Why don't you shoot?" he asked. -- ? -- . I cleared my throat of a huskiness which prevented speech. "Hump," he said slowly, "you can't do it. You are not exactly afraid. You are impotent. Your conventional morality is stronger than you. You are the slave to the opinions which have credence among the people you have known and have read about. Their code has been drummed into your head from the time you lisped, and in spite of your philosophy, and of what I have taught you, it won't let you kill an unarmed, unresisting man." , . -- , -- , -- ! , , . . -- , . , , . "I know it," I said hoarsely. -- , -- . "And you know that I would kill an unarmed man as readily as I would smoke a cigar," he went on. "You know me for what I am, - my worth in the world by your standard. You have called me snake, tiger, shark, monster, and Caliban. And yet, you little rag puppet, you little echoing mechanism, you are unable to kill me as you would a snake or a shark, because I have hands, feet, and a body shaped somewhat like yours. Bah! I had hoped better things of you, Hump." -- , -- , -- , , -- . -- , , . , , , , . -- , , , , , . ! , ! He stepped out of the companion-way and came up to me. . "Put down that gun. I want to ask you some questions. I haven't had a chance to look around yet. What place is this? How is the Ghost lying? How did you get wet? Where's Maud? - I beg your pardon, Miss Brewster - or should I say, 'Mrs. Van Weyden'?" -- . . . ? ""? ? ?.. , ... , , -- -? I had backed away from him, almost weeping at my inability to shoot him, but not fool enough to put down the gun. I hoped, desperately, that he might commit some hostile act, attempt to strike me or choke me; for in such way only I knew I could be stirred to shoot. , , , , . , -- , -- . "This is Endeavour Island," I said. -- , -- . "Never heard of it," he broke in. -- . "At least, that's our name for it," I amended. -- . "Our?" he queried. "Who's our?" -- ? -- . -- ? "Miss Brewster and myself. And the Ghost is lying, as you can see for yourself, bow on to the beach." -- . "", , , . "There are seals here," he said. "They woke me up with their barking, or I'd be sleeping yet. I heard them when I drove in last night. They were the first warning that I was on a lee shore. It's a rookery, the kind of a thing I've hunted for years. Thanks to my brother Death, I've lighted on a fortune. It's a mint. What's its bearings?" -- , -- . -- , . , . , . -- , . , . ! ? "Haven't the least idea," I said. "But you ought to know quite closely. What were your last observations?" -- , -- . -- . ? He smiled inscrutably, but did not answer. - . "Well, where's all hands?" I asked. "How does it come that you are alone?" -- ? -- . -- , ? I was prepared for him again to set aside my question, and was surprised at the readiness of his reply. , , , , : "My brother got me inside forty-eight hours, and through no fault of mine. Boarded me in the night with only the watch on deck. Hunters went back on me. He gave them a bigger lay. Heard him offering it. Did it right before me. Of course the crew gave me the go-by. That was to be expected. All hands went over the side, and there I was, marooned on my own vessel. It was Death's turn, and it's all in the family anyway." -- , , . , , . . , "". , -- , . , , . , , . , , -- . "But how did you lose the masts?" I asked. -- ? "Walk over and examine those lanyards," he said, pointing to where the mizzen-rigging should have been. -- , -- , , . "They have been cut with a knife!" I exclaimed. -- ! -- . "Not quite," he laughed. "It was a neater job. Look again." -- , -- . -- - . I looked. The lanyards had been almost severed, with just enough left to hold the shrouds till some severe strain should be put upon them . , . "Cooky did that," he laughed again. "I know, though I didn't spot him at it. Kind of evened up the score a bit." -- ! -- . -- , . . "Good for Mugridge!" I cried. -- ! -- . "Yes, that's what I thought when everything went over the side. Only I said it on the other side of my mouth." -- , , , , , . "But what were you doing while all this was going on?" I asked. -- , ? -- . "My best, you may be sure, which wasn't much under the circumstances." -- , , . -- - ... I turned to re-examine Thomas Mugridge's work. . "I guess I'll sit down and take the sunshine," I heard Wolf Larsen saying. -- , , , , -- . There was a hint, just a slight hint, of physical feebleness in his voice, and it was so strange that I looked quickly at him. His hand was sweeping nervously across his face, as though he were brushing away cobwebs. I was puzzled. The whole thing was so unlike the Wolf Larsen I had known. , , . , . . . "How are your headaches?" I asked. -- ? -- . "They still trouble me," was his answer. "I think I have one coming on now." -- , -- . -- , . He slipped down from his sitting posture till he lay on the deck. Then he rolled over on his side, his head resting on the biceps of the under arm, the forearm shielding his eyes from the sun. I stood regarding him wonderingly. . , , . . "Now's your chance, Hump," he said. -- , ! -- . "I don't understand," I lied, for I thoroughly understood. -- , -- , , . "Oh, nothing," he added softly, as if he were drowsing; "only you've got me where you want me." -- , -- , , . -- , , , . "No, I haven't," I retorted; "for I want you a few thousand miles away from here." -- , -- . -- , , . He chuckled, and thereafter spoke no more. He did not stir as I passed by him and went down into the cabin. I lifted the trap in the floor, but for some moments gazed dubiously into the darkness of the lazarette beneath. I hesitated to descend. What if his lying down were a ruse? Pretty, indeed, to be caught there like a rat. I crept softly up the companion-way and peeped at him. He was lying as I had left him. Again I went below; but before I dropped into the lazarette I took the precaution of casting down the door in advance. At least there would be no lid to the trap. But it was all needless. I regained the cabin with a store of jams, sea-biscuits, canned meats, and such things, - all I could carry, - and replaced the trap-door. . , -. , , . -- ? ? , ! . , . -, , , . . . , , -- , , , -- - . A peep at Wolf Larsen showed me that he had not moved. A bright thought struck me. I stole into his state-room and possessed myself of his revolvers. There were no other weapons, though I thoroughly ransacked the three remaining state-rooms. To make sure, I returned and went through the steerage and forecastle, and in the galley gathered up all the sharp meat and vegetable knives. Then I bethought me of the great yachtsman's knife he always carried, and I came to him and spoke to him, first softly, then loudly. He did not move. I bent over and took it from his pocket. I breathed more freely. He had no arms with which to attack me from a distance; while I, armed, could always forestall him should he attempt to grapple me with his terrible gorilla arms. , , . . . , . . , . -- , . . , . , , , . Filling a coffee-pot and frying-pan with part of my plunder, and taking some chinaware from the cabin pantry, I left Wolf Larsen lying in the sun and went ashore. - - , . Maud was still asleep. I blew up the embers (we had not yet arranged a winter kitchen), and quite feverishly cooked the breakfast. Toward the end, I heard her moving about within the hut, making her toilet. Just as all was ready and the coffee poured, the door opened and she came forth. . , . , , , . , , . "It's not fair of you," was her greeting. "You are usurping one of my prerogatives. You know you I agreed that the cooking should be mine, and - " -- ! -- . -- , ... "But just this once," I pleaded. -- , -- . "If you promise not to do it again," she smiled. "Unless, of course, you have grown tired of my poor efforts." -- , ! -- . -- , . To my delight she never once looked toward the beach, and I maintained the banter with such success all unconsciously she sipped coffee from the china cup, ate fried evaporated potatoes, and spread marmalade on her biscuit. But it could not last. I saw the surprise that came over her. She had discovered the china plate from which she was eating. She looked over the breakfast, noting detail after detail. Then she looked at me, and her face turned slowly toward the beach. . , , , , . . , . , , . , , . . "Humphrey!" she said. -- ! -- . The old unnamable terror mounted into her eyes. , , . "Is - he?" she quavered. -- ... ?.. -- . I nodded my head. . CHAPTER XXXIIII  XXXIIII We waited all day for Wolf Larsen to come ashore. It was an intolerable period of anxiety. Each moment one or the other of us cast expectant glances toward the Ghost. But he did not come. He did not even appear on deck. , . , . "". . . "Perhaps it is his headache," I said. "I left him lying on the poop. He may lie there all night. I think I'll go and see." -- , , -- . -- , . . . Maud looked entreaty at me. . "It is all right," I assured her. "I shall take the revolvers. You know I collected every weapon on board." -- , -- . -- . , , . "But there are his arms, his hands, his terrible, terrible hands!" she objected. And then she cried, "Oh, Humphrey, I am afraid of him! Don't go - please don't go!" -- ! , ! , -- , -- ! , , ! She rested her hand appealingly on mine, and sent my pulse fluttering. My heart was surely in my eyes for a moment. The dear and lovely woman! And she was so much the woman, clinging and appealing, sunshine and dew to my manhood, rooting it deeper and sending through it the sap of a new strength. I was for putting my arm around her, as when in the midst of the seal herd; but I considered, and refrained. , . , . , ߊ - !.. , , . , -- , -- , . "I shall not take any risks," I said. "I'll merely peep over the bow and see." -- , -- . -- , . She pressed my hand earnestly and let me go. But the space on deck where I had left him lying was vacant. He had evidently gone below. That night we stood alternate watches, one of us sleeping at a time; for there was no telling what Wolf Larsen might do. He was certainly capable of anything. . , , . , , . , , . . The next day we waited, and the next, and still he made no sign. , . "These headaches of his, these attacks," Maud said, on the afternoon of the fourth day; "Perhaps he is ill, very ill. He may be dead." -- ... ... -- . -- , , . , . "Or dying," was her afterthought when she had waited some time for me to speak. , , : -- ... "Better so," I answered. -- , -- . "But think, Humphrey, a fellow-creature in his last lonely hour." -- , . . . "Perhaps," I suggested. -- ... -- . "Yes, even perhaps," she acknowledged. "But we do not know. It would be terrible if he were. I could never forgive myself. We must do something." -- , , -- . -- , . , . . - . "Perhaps," I suggested again. I waited, smiling inwardly at the woman of her which compelled a solicitude for Wolf Larsen, of all creatures. Where was her solicitude for me, I thought, - for me whom she had been afraid to have merely peep aboard? -- , , -- . , , : - -- ! , . She was too subtle not to follow the trend of my silence. And she was as direct as she was subtle. -- . . "You must go aboard, Humphrey, and find out," she said. "And if you want to laugh at me, you have my consent and forgiveness." -- , , , , -- . -- , , . . I arose obediently and went down the beach. . "Do be careful," she called after me. -- ! -- . I waved my arm from the forecastle head and dropped down to the deck. Aft I walked to the cabin companion, where I contented myself with hailing below. Wolf Larsen answered, and as he started to ascend the stairs I cocked my revolver. I displayed it openly during our conversation, but he took no notice of it. He appeared the same, physically, as when last I saw him, but he was gloomy and silent. In fact, the few words we spoke could hardly be called a conversation. I did not inquire why he had not been ashore, nor did he ask why I had not come aboard. His head was all right again, he said, and so, without further parley, I left him. . -, . . , , , , , . , . , . , , , . , , , , . Maud received my report with obvious relief, and the sight of smoke which later rose in the galley put her in a more cheerful mood. The next day, and the next, we saw the galley smoke rising, and sometimes we caught glimpses of him on the poop. But that was all. He made no attempt to come ashore. This we knew, for we still maintained our night-watches. We were waiting for him to do something, to show his hand, so to say, and his inaction puzzled and worried us. , , , , . , . . , -- , . , - , , , . . A week of this passed by. We had no other interest than Wolf Larsen, and his presence weighed us down with an apprehension which prevented us from doing any of the little things we had planned. . . . But at the end of the week the smoke ceased rising from the galley, and he no longer showed himself on the poop. I could see Maud's solicitude again growing, though she timidly - and even proudly, I think - forbore a repetition of her request. After all, what censure could be put upon her? She was divinely altruistic, and she was a woman. Besides, I was myself aware of hurt at thought of this man whom I had tried to kill, dying alone with his fellow- creatures so near. He was right. The code of my group was stronger than I. The fact that he had hands, feet, and a body shaped somewhat like mine, constituted a claim which I could not ignore. , . , , , , . , , ? . , - , , , , , , , . . , , . , , , , , . So I did not wait a second time for Maud to send me. I discovered that we stood in need of condensed milk and marmalade, and announced that I was going aboard. I could see that she wavered. She even went so far as to murmur that they were non-essentials and that my trip after them might be inexpedient. And as she had followed the trend of my silence, she now followed the trend of my speech, and she knew that I was going aboard, not because of condensed milk and marmalade, but because of her and of her anxiety, which she knew she had failed to hide. , . " , -- , -- ". , . , . , , , , , , , -- , , . I took off my shoes when I gained the forecastle head, and went noiselessly aft in my stocking feet. Nor did I call this time from the top of the companion-way. Cautiously descending, I found the cabin deserted. The door to his state-room was closed. At first I thought of knocking, then I remembered my ostensible errand and resolved to carry it out. Carefully avoiding noise, I lifted the trap-door in the floor and set it to one side. The slop-chest, as well as the provisions, was stored in the lazarette, and I took advantage of the opportunity to lay in a stock of underclothing. , . . , , - . . , , , . , . , . As I emerged from the lazarette I heard sounds in Wolf Larsen's state-room. I crouched and listened. The door-knob rattled. Furtively, instinctively, I slunk back behind the table and drew and cocked my revolver. The door swung open and he came forth. Never had I seen so profound a despair as that which I saw on his face, - the face of Wolf Larsen the fighter, the strong man, the indomitable one. For all the world like a woman wringing her hands, he raised his clenched fists and groaned. One fist unclosed, and the open palm swept across his eyes as though brushing away cobwebs. , . . . . , . , . , -- , . , , . , . "God! God!" he groaned, and the clenched fists were raised again to the infinite despair with which his throat vibrated. -- , ! -- . It was horrible. I was trembling all over, and I could feel the shivers running up and down my spine and the sweat standing out on my forehead. Surely there can be little in this world more awful than the spectacle of a strong man in the moment when he is utterly weak and broken. . , , . , . But Wolf Larsen regained control of himself by an exertion of his remarkable will. And it was exertion. His whole frame shook with the struggle. He resembled a man on the verge of a fit. His face strove to compose itself, writhing and twisting in the effort till he broke down again. Once more the clenched fists went upward and he groaned. He caught his breath once or twice and sobbed. Then he was successful. I could have thought him the old Wolf Larsen, and yet there was in his movements a vague suggestion of weakness and indecision. He started for the companion-way, and stepped forward quite as I had been accustomed to see him do; and yet again, in his very walk, there seemed that suggestion of weakness and indecision. . . . , - . -- , . . , , , , . . , - . , , , . I was now concerned with fear for myself. The open trap lay directly in his path, and his discovery of it would lead instantly to his discovery of me. I was angry with myself for being caught in so cowardly a position, crouching on the floor. There was yet time. I rose swiftly to my feet, and, I know, quite unconsciously assumed a defiant attitude. He took no notice of me. Nor did he notice the open trap. Before I could grasp the situation, or act, he had walked right into the trap. One foot was descending into the opening, while the other foot was just on the verge of beginning the uplift. But when the descending foot missed the solid flooring and felt vacancy beneath, it was the old Wolf Larsen and the tiger muscles that made the falling body spring across the opening, even as it fell, so that he struck on his chest and stomach, with arms outstretched, on the floor of the opposite side. The next instant he had drawn up his legs and rolled clear. But he rolled into my marmalade and underclothes and against the trap- door. , -- . , -- , -- , , , , . , . , , - , . , , . , . , . , -- -- , , , .