Chapter 18

by Jack London

　　Chapter XVIII

　　The next day, while the storm was blowing itself out, Wolf Larsenand I crammed anatomy and surgery and set Mugridge's ribs. Then,when the storm broke, Wolf Larsen cruised back and forth over thatportion of the ocean where we had encountered it, and somewhat moreto the westward, while the boats were being repaired and new sailsmade and bent. Sealing schooner after sealing schooner we sightedand boarded, most of which were in search of lost boats, and mostof which were carrying boats and crews they had picked up and whichdid not belong to them. For the thick of the fleet had been to thewestward of us, and the boats, scattered far and wide, had headedin mad flight for the nearest refuge.

　　Two of our boats, with men all safe, we took off the Cisco, and, toWolf Larsen's huge delight and my own grief, he culled Smoke, withNilson and Leach, from the San Diego. So that, at the end of fivedays, we found ourselves short but four men - Henderson, Holyoak,Williams, and Kelly, - and were once more hunting on the flanks ofthe herd.

　　As we followed it north we began to encounter the dreaded sea-fogs.Day after day the boats lowered and were swallowed up almost erethey touched the water, while we on board pumped the horn atregular intervals and every fifteen minutes fired the bomb gun.Boats were continually being lost and found, it being the customfor a boat to hunt, on lay, with whatever schooner picked it up,until such time it was recovered by its own schooner. But WolfLarsen, as was to be expected, being a boat short, took possessionof the first stray one and compelled its men to hunt with theGhost, not permitting them to return to their own schooner when wesighted it. I remember how he forced the hunter and his two menbelow, a riffle at their breasts, when their captain passed by atbiscuit-toss and hailed us for information.

　　Thomas Mugridge, so strangely and pertinaciously clinging to life,was soon limping about again and performing his double duties ofcook and cabin-boy. Johnson and Leach were bullied and beaten asmuch as ever, and they looked for their lives to end with the endof the hunting season; while the rest of the crew lived the livesof dogs and were worked like dogs by their pitiless master. As forWolf Larsen and myself, we got along fairly well; though I couldnot quite rid myself of the idea that right conduct, for me, lay inkilling him. He fascinated me immeasurably, and I feared himimmeasurably. And yet, I could not imagine him lying prone indeath. There was an endurance, as of perpetual youth, about him,which rose up and forbade the picture. I could see him only asliving always, and dominating always, fighting and destroying,himself surviving.

　　One diversion of his, when we were in the midst of the herd and thesea was too rough to lower the boats, was to lower with two boat-pullers and a steerer and go out himself. He was a good shot, too,and brought many a skin aboard under what the hunters termedimpossible hunting conditions. It seemed the breath of hisnostrils, this carrying his life in his hands and struggling for itagainst tremendous odds.

　　I was learning more and more seamanship; and one clear day - athing we rarely encountered now - I had the satisfaction of runningand handling the Ghost and picking up the boats myself. WolfLarsen had been smitten with one of his headaches, and I stood atthe wheel from morning until evening, sailing across the oceanafter the last lee boat, and heaving to and picking it and theother five up without command or suggestion from him.

　　Gales we encountered now and again, for it was a raw and stormyregion, and, in the middle of June, a typhoon most memorable to meand most important because of the changes wrought through it uponmy future. We must have been caught nearly at the centre of thiscircular storm, and Wolf Larsen ran out of it and to the southward,first under a double-reefed jib, and finally under bare poles.Never had I imagined so great a sea. The seas previouslyencountered were as ripples compared with these, which ran a half-mile from crest to crest and which upreared, I am confident, aboveour masthead. So great was it that Wolf Larsen himself did notdare heave to, though he was being driven far to the southward andout of the seal herd.

　　We must have been well in the path of the trans-Pacific steamshipswhen the typhoon moderated, and here, to the surprise of thehunters, we found ourselves in the midst of seals - a second herd,or sort of rear-guard, they declared, and a most unusual thing.But it was "Boats over!" the boom-boom of guns, and the pitifulslaughter through the long day.

　　It was at this time that I was approached by Leach. I had justfinished tallying the skins of the last boat aboard, when he cameto my side, in the darkness, and said in a low tone:

　　"Can you tell me, Mr. Van Weyden, how far we are off the coast, andwhat the bearings of Yokohama are?"

　　My heart leaped with gladness, for I knew what he had in mind, andI gave him the bearings - west-north-west, and five hundred milesaway.

　　"Thank you, sir," was all he said as he slipped back into thedarkness.

　　Next morning No. 3 boat and Johnson and Leach were missing. Thewater-breakers and grub-boxes from all the other boats werelikewise missing, as were the beds and sea bags of the two men.Wolf Larsen was furious. He set sail and bore away into the west-north-west, two hunters constantly at the mastheads and sweepingthe sea with glasses, himself pacing the deck like an angry lion.He knew too well my sympathy for the runaways to send me aloft aslook-out.

　　The wind was fair but fitful, and it was like looking for a needlein a haystack to raise that tiny boat out of the blue immensity.But he put the Ghost through her best paces so as to get betweenthe deserters and the land. This accomplished, he cruised back andforth across what he knew must be their course.

　　On the morning of the third day, shortly after eight bells, a crythat the boat was sighted came down from Smoke at the masthead.All hands lined the rail. A snappy breeze was blowing from thewest with the promise of more wind behind it; and there, toleeward, in the troubled silver of the rising sun, appeared anddisappeared a black speck.

　　We squared away and ran for it. My heart was as lead. I feltmyself turning sick in anticipation; and as I looked at the gleamof triumph in Wolf Larsen's eyes, his form swam before me, and Ifelt almost irresistibly impelled to fling myself upon him. Sounnerved was I by the thought of impending violence to Leach andJohnson that my reason must have left me. I know that I slippeddown into the steerage in a daze, and that I was just beginning theascent to the deck, a loaded shot-gun in my hands, when I heard thestartled cry:

　　"There's five men in that boat!"

　　I supported myself in the companion-way, weak and trembling, whilethe observation was being verified by the remarks of the rest ofthe men. Then my knees gave from under me and I sank down, myselfagain, but overcome by shock at knowledge of what I had so nearlydone. Also, I was very thankful as I put the gun away and slippedback on deck.

　　No one had remarked my absence. The boat was near enough for us tomake out that it was larger than any sealing boat and built ondifferent lines. As we drew closer, the sail was taken in and themast unstepped. Oars were shipped, and its occupants waited for usto heave to and take them aboard.

　　Smoke, who had descended to the deck and was now standing by myside, began to chuckle in a significant way. I looked at himinquiringly.

　　"Talk of a mess!" he giggled.

　　"What's wrong?" I demanded.

　　Again he chuckled. "Don't you see there, in the stern-sheets, onthe bottom? May I never shoot a seal again if that ain't a woman!"

　　I looked closely, but was not sure until exclamations broke out onall sides. The boat contained four men, and its fifth occupant wascertainly a woman. We were agog with excitement, all except WolfLarsen, who was too evidently disappointed in that it was not hisown boat with the two victims of his malice.

　　We ran down the flying jib, hauled the jib-sheets to wind-ward andthe main-sheet flat, and came up into the wind. The oars struckthe water, and with a few strokes the boat was alongside. I nowcaught my first fair glimpse of the woman. She was wrapped in along ulster, for the morning was raw; and I could see nothing buther face and a mass of light brown hair escaping from under theseaman's cap on her head. The eyes were large and brown andlustrous, the mouth sweet and sensitive, and the face itself adelicate oval, though sun and exposure to briny wind had burnt theface scarlet.

　　She seemed to me like a being from another world. I was aware of ahungry out-reaching for her, as of a starving man for bread. Butthen, I had not seen a woman for a very long time. I know that Iwas lost in a great wonder, almost a stupor, - this, then, was awoman? - so that I forgot myself and my mate's duties, and took nopart in helping the new-comers aboard. For when one of the sailorslifted her into Wolf Larsen's downstretched arms, she looked upinto our curious faces and smiled amusedly and sweetly, as only awoman can smile, and as I had seen no one smile for so long that Ihad forgotten such smiles existed.

　　"Mr. Van Weyden!"

　　Wolf Larsen's voice brought me sharply back to myself.

　　"Will you take the lady below and see to her comfort? Make up thatspare port cabin. Put Cooky to work on it. And see what you cando for that face. It's burned badly."

　　He turned brusquely away from us and began to question the new men.The boat was cast adrift, though one of them called it a "bloodyshame" with Yokohama so near.

　　I found myself strangely afraid of this woman I was escorting aft.Also I was awkward. It seemed to me that I was realizing for thefirst time what a delicate, fragile creature a woman is; and as Icaught her arm to help her down the companion stairs, I wasstartled by its smallness and softness. Indeed, she was a slender,delicate woman as women go, but to me she was so ethereally slenderand delicate that I was quite prepared for her arm to crumble in mygrasp. All this, in frankness, to show my first impression, afterlong denial of women in general and of Maud Brewster in particular.

　　"No need to go to any great trouble for me," she protested, when Ihad seated her in Wolf Larsen's arm-chair, which I had draggedhastily from his cabin. "The men were looking for land at anymoment this morning, and the vessel should be in by night; don'tyou think so?"

　　Her simple faith in the immediate future took me aback. How couldI explain to her the situation, the strange man who stalked the sealike Destiny, all that it had taken me months to learn? But Ianswered honestly:

　　"If it were any other captain except ours, I should say you wouldbe ashore in Yokohama to-morrow. But our captain is a strange man,and I beg of you to be prepared for anything - understand? - foranything."

　　"I - I confess I hardly do understand," she hesitated, a perturbedbut not frightened expression in her eyes. "Or is it amisconception of mine that shipwrecked people are always shownevery consideration? This is such a little thing, you know. Weare so close to land."

　　"Candidly, I do not know," I strove to reassure her. "I wishedmerely to prepare you for the worst, if the worst is to come. Thisman, this captain, is a brute, a demon, and one can never tell whatwill be his next fantastic act."

　　I was growing excited, but she interrupted me with an "Oh, I see,"and her voice sounded weary. To think was patently an effort. Shewas clearly on the verge of physical collapse.

　　She asked no further questions, and I vouchsafed no remark,devoting myself to Wolf Larsen's command, which was to make hercomfortable. I bustled about in quite housewifely fashion,procuring soothing lotions for her sunburn, raiding Wolf Larsen'sprivate stores for a bottle of port I knew to be there, anddirecting Thomas Mugridge in the preparation of the spare state-room.

　　The wind was freshening rapidly, the Ghost heeling over more andmore, and by the time the state-room was ready she was dashingthrough the water at a lively clip. I had quite forgotten theexistence of Leach and Johnson, when suddenly, like a thunderclap,"Boat ho!" came down the open companion-way. It was Smoke'sunmistakable voice, crying from the masthead. I shot a glance atthe woman, but she was leaning back in the arm-chair, her eyesclosed, unutterably tired. I doubted that she had heard, and Iresolved to prevent her seeing the brutality I knew would followthe capture of the deserters. She was tired. Very good. Sheshould sleep.

　　There were swift commands on deck, a stamping of feet and aslapping of reef-points as the Ghost shot into the wind and abouton the other tack. As she filled away and heeled, the arm-chairbegan to slide across the cabin floor, and I sprang for it just intime to prevent the rescued woman from being spilled out.

　　Her eyes were too heavy to suggest more than a hint of the sleepysurprise that perplexed her as she looked up at me, and she halfstumbled, half tottered, as I led her to her cabin. Mugridgegrinned insinuatingly in my face as I shoved him out and orderedhim back to his galley work; and he won his revenge by spreadingglowing reports among the hunters as to what an excellent "lydy's-myde" I was proving myself to be.

　　She leaned heavily against me, and I do believe that she had fallenasleep again between the arm-chair and the state-room. This Idiscovered when she nearly fell into the bunk during a sudden lurchof the schooner. She aroused, smiled drowsily, and was off tosleep again; and asleep I left her, under a heavy pair of sailor'sblankets, her head resting on a pillow I had appropriated from WolfLarsen's bunk.