Chapter 22

by Jack London

　　Chapter XXII

　　I knew what it was as she came toward me. For ten minutes I hadwatched her talking earnestly with the engineer, and now, with asign for silence, I drew her out of earshot of the helmsman. Herface was white and set; her large eyes, larger than usual what ofthe purpose in them, looked penetratingly into mine. I felt rathertimid and apprehensive, for she had come to search Humphrey VanWeyden's soul, and Humphrey Van Weyden had nothing of which to beparticularly proud since his advent on the Ghost.

　　We walked to the break of the poop, where she turned and faced me.I glanced around to see that no one was within hearing distance.

　　"What is it?" I asked gently; but the expression of determinationon her face did not relax.

　　"I can readily understand," she began, "that this morning's affairwas largely an accident; but I have been talking with Mr. Haskins.He tells me that the day we were rescued, even while I was in thecabin, two men were drowned, deliberately drowned - murdered."

　　There was a query in her voice, and she faced me accusingly, asthough I were guilty of the deed, or at least a party to it.

　　"The information is quite correct," I answered. "The two men weremurdered."

　　"And you permitted it!" she cried.

　　"I was unable to prevent it, is a better way of phrasing it," Ireplied, still gently.

　　"But you tried to prevent it?" There was an emphasis on the"tried," and a pleading little note in her voice.

　　"Oh, but you didn't," she hurried on, divining my answer. "But whydidn't you?"

　　I shrugged my shoulders. "You must remember, Miss Brewster, thatyou are a new inhabitant of this little world, and that you do notyet understand the laws which operate within it. You bring withyou certain fine conceptions of humanity, manhood, conduct, andsuch things; but here you will find them misconceptions. I havefound it so," I added, with an involuntary sigh.

　　She shook her head incredulously.

　　"What would you advise, then?" I asked. "That I should take aknife, or a gun, or an axe, and kill this man?"

　　She half started back.

　　"No, not that!"

　　"Then what should I do? Kill myself?"

　　"You speak in purely materialistic terms," she objected. "There issuch a thing as moral courage, and moral courage is never withouteffect."

　　"Ah," I smiled, "you advise me to kill neither him nor myself, butto let him kill me." I held up my hand as she was about to speak."For moral courage is a worthless asset on this little floatingworld. Leach, one of the men who were murdered, had moral courageto an unusual degree. So had the other man, Johnson. Not only didit not stand them in good stead, but it destroyed them. And sowith me if I should exercise what little moral courage I maypossess.

　　"You must understand, Miss Brewster, and understand clearly, thatthis man is a monster. He is without conscience. Nothing issacred to him, nothing is too terrible for him to do. It was dueto his whim that I was detained aboard in the first place. It isdue to his whim that I am still alive. I do nothing, can donothing, because I am a slave to this monster, as you are now aslave to him; because I desire to live, as you will desire to live;because I cannot fight and overcome him, just as you will not beable to fight and overcome him."

　　She waited for me to go on.

　　"What remains? Mine is the role of the weak. I remain silent andsuffer ignominy, as you will remain silent and suffer ignominy.And it is well. It is the best we can do if we wish to live. Thebattle is not always to the strong. We have not the strength withwhich to fight this man; we must dissimulate, and win, if win wecan, by craft. If you will be advised by me, this is what you willdo. I know my position is perilous, and I may say frankly thatyours is even more perilous. We must stand together, withoutappearing to do so, in secret alliance. I shall not be able toside with you openly, and, no matter what indignities may be putupon me, you are to remain likewise silent. We must provoke noscenes with this man, nor cross his will. And we must keep smilingfaces and be friendly with him no matter how repulsive it may be."

　　She brushed her hand across her forehead in a puzzled way, saying,"Still I do not understand."

　　"You must do as I say," I interrupted authoritatively, for I sawWolf Larsen's gaze wandering toward us from where he paced up anddown with Latimer amidships. "Do as I say, and ere long you willfind I am right."

　　"What shall I do, then?" she asked, detecting the anxious glance Ihad shot at the object of our conversation, and impressed, Iflatter myself, with the earnestness of my manner.

　　"Dispense with all the moral courage you can," I said briskly."Don't arouse this man's animosity. Be quite friendly with him,talk with him, discuss literature and art with him - he is fond ofsuch things. You will find him an interested listener and no fool.And for your own sake try to avoid witnessing, as much as you can,the brutalities of the ship. It will make it easier for you to actyour part."

　　"I am to lie," she said in steady, rebellious tones, "by speech andaction to lie."

　　Wolf Larsen had separated from Latimer and was coming toward us. Iwas desperate.

　　"Please, please understand me," I said hurriedly, lowering myvoice. "All your experience of men and things is worthless here.You must begin over again. I know, - I can see it - you have,among other ways, been used to managing people with your eyes,letting your moral courage speak out through them, as it were. Youhave already managed me with your eyes, commanded me with them.But don't try it on Wolf Larsen. You could as easily control alion, while he would make a mock of you. He would - I have alwaysbeen proud of the fact that I discovered him," I said, turning theconversation as Wolf Larsen stepped on the poop and joined us."The editors were afraid of him and the publishers would have noneof him. But I knew, and his genius and my judgment were vindicatedwhen he made that magnificent hit with his 'Forge.'"

　　"And it was a newspaper poem," she said glibly.

　　"It did happen to see the light in a newspaper," I replied, "butnot because the magazine editors had been denied a glimpse at it."

　　"We were talking of Harris," I said to Wolf Larsen.

　　"Oh, yes," he acknowledged. "I remember the 'Forge.' Filled withpretty sentiments and an almighty faith in human illusions. By theway, Mr. Van Weyden, you'd better look in on Cooky. He'scomplaining and restless."

　　Thus was I bluntly dismissed from the poop, only to find Mugridgesleeping soundly from the morphine I had given him. I made nohaste to return on deck, and when I did I was gratified to see MissBrewster in animated conversation with Wolf Larsen. As I say, thesight gratified me. She was following my advice. And yet I wasconscious of a slight shock or hurt in that she was able to do thething I had begged her to do and which she had notably disliked.