Chapter 25

by Jack London

　　Chapter XXV

　　"You've been on deck, Mr. Van Weyden," Wolf Larsen said, thefollowing morning at the breakfast-table, "How do things look?"

　　"Clear enough," I answered, glancing at the sunshine which streameddown the open companion-way. "Fair westerly breeze, with a promiseof stiffening, if Louis predicts correctly."

　　He nodded his head in a pleased way. "Any signs of fog?"

　　"Thick banks in the north and north-west."

　　He nodded his head again, evincing even greater satisfaction thanbefore.

　　"What of the Macedonia?"

　　"Not sighted," I answered.

　　I could have sworn his face fell at the intelligence, but why heshould be disappointed I could not conceive.

　　I was soon to learn. "Smoke ho!" came the hail from on deck, andhis face brightened.

　　"Good!" he exclaimed, and left the table at once to go on deck andinto the steerage, where the hunters were taking the firstbreakfast of their exile.

　　Maud Brewster and I scarcely touched the food before us, gazing,instead, in silent anxiety at each other, and listening to WolfLarsen's voice, which easily penetrated the cabin through theintervening bulkhead. He spoke at length, and his conclusion wasgreeted with a wild roar of cheers. The bulkhead was too thick forus to hear what he said; but whatever it was it affected thehunters strongly, for the cheering was followed by loudexclamations and shouts of joy.

　　From the sounds on deck I knew that the sailors had been routed outand were preparing to lower the boats. Maud Brewster accompaniedme on deck, but I left her at the break of the poop, where shemight watch the scene and not be in it. The sailors must havelearned whatever project was on hand, and the vim and snap they putinto their work attested their enthusiasm. The hunters cametrooping on deck with shot-guns and ammunition-boxes, and, mostunusual, their rifles. The latter were rarely taken in the boats,for a seal shot at long range with a rifle invariably sank before aboat could reach it. But each hunter this day had his rifle and alarge supply of cartridges. I noticed they grinned withsatisfaction whenever they looked at the Macedonia's smoke, whichwas rising higher and higher as she approached from the west.

　　The five boats went over the side with a rush, spread out like theribs of a fan, and set a northerly course, as on the precedingafternoon, for us to follow. I watched for some time, curiously,but there seemed nothing extraordinary about their behaviour. Theylowered sails, shot seals, and hoisted sails again, and continuedon their way as I had always seen them do. The Macedonia repeatedher performance of yesterday, "hogging" the sea by dropping herline of boats in advance of ours and across our course. Fourteenboats require a considerable spread of ocean for comfortablehunting, and when she had completely lapped our line she continuedsteaming into the north-east, dropping more boats as she went.

　　"What's up?" I asked Wolf Larsen, unable longer to keep mycuriosity in check.

　　"Never mind what's up," he answered gruffly. "You won't be athousand years in finding out, and in the meantime just pray forplenty 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 ownmedicine. In short, I'm going to play the hog myself, and not forone 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, orit's all up with us."

　　He had the wheel at the time, and I went forward to my hospital inthe forecastle, where lay the two crippled men, Nilson and ThomasMugridge. Nilson was as cheerful as could be expected, for hisbroken leg was knitting nicely; but the Cockney was desperatelymelancholy, and I was aware of a great sympathy for the unfortunatecreature. And the marvel of it was that still he lived and clungto life. The brutal years had reduced his meagre body tosplintered wreckage, and yet the spark of life within burnedbrightly as ever.

　　"With an artificial foot - and they make excellent ones - you willbe stumping ships' galleys to the end of time," I assured himjovially.

　　But his answer was serious, nay, solemn. "I don't know about wotyou s'y, Mr. Van W'yden, but I do know I'll never rest 'appy till Isee that 'ell-'ound bloody well dead. 'E cawn't live as long asme. 'E's got no right to live, an' as the Good Word puts it, ''Eshall shorely die,' an' I s'y, 'Amen, an' damn soon at that.'"

　　When I returned on deck I found Wolf Larsen steering mainly withone hand, while with the other hand he held the marine glasses andstudied the situation of the boats, paying particular attention tothe position of the Macedonia. The only change noticeable in ourboats was that they had hauled close on the wind and were headingseveral points west of north. Still, I could not see theexpediency of the manoeuvre, for the free sea was still interceptedby the Macedonia's five weather boats, which, in turn, had hauledclose on the wind. Thus they slowly diverged toward the west,drawing farther away from the remainder of the boats in their line.Our boats were rowing as well as sailing. Even the hunters werepulling, and with three pairs of oars in the water they rapidlyoverhauled what I may appropriately term the enemy.

　　The smoke of the Macedonia had dwindled to a dim blot on the north-eastern horizon. Of the steamer herself nothing was to be seen.We had been loafing along, till now, our sails shaking half thetime and spilling the wind; and twice, for short periods, we hadbeen hove to. But there was no more loafing. Sheets were trimmed,and Wolf Larsen proceeded to put the Ghost through her paces. Weran past our line of boats and bore down upon the first weatherboat 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 andfast as we slipped by the boat a hundred feet to leeward. Thethree men in it gazed at us suspiciously. They had been hoggingthe sea, and they knew Wolf Larsen, by reputation at any rate. Inoted that the hunter, a huge Scandinavian sitting in the bow, heldhis rifle, ready to hand, across his knees. It should have been inits 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 board and have a 'gam'!"

　　"To gam," among the sealing-schooners, is a substitute for theverbs "to visit," "to gossip." It expresses the garrulity of thesea, and is a pleasant break in the monotony of the life.

　　The Ghost swung around into the wind, and I finished my workforward in time to run aft and lend a hand with the mainsheet.

　　"You will please stay on deck, Miss Brewster," Wolf Larsen said, ashe started forward to meet his guest. "And you too, Mr. VanWeyden."

　　The boat had lowered its sail and run alongside. The hunter,golden bearded like a sea-king, came over the rail and dropped ondeck. But his hugeness could not quite overcome hisapprehensiveness. Doubt and distrust showed strongly in his face.It was a transparent face, for all of its hairy shield, andadvertised instant relief when he glanced from Wolf Larsen to me,noted that there was only the pair of us, and then glanced over hisown two men who had joined him. Surely he had little reason to beafraid. He towered like a Goliath above Wolf Larsen. He must havemeasured six feet eight or nine inches in stature, and Isubsequently learned his weight - 240 pounds. And there was no fatabout him. It was all bone and muscle.

　　A return of apprehension was apparent when, at the top of thecompanion-way, Wolf Larsen invited him below. But he reassuredhimself with a glance down at his host - a big man himself butdwarfed by the propinquity of the giant. So all hesitancyvanished, and the pair descended into the cabin. In the meantime,his two men, as was the wont of visiting sailors, had gone forwardinto the forecastle to do some visiting themselves.

　　Suddenly, from the cabin came a great, choking bellow, followed byall the sounds of a furious struggle. It was the leopard and thelion, and the lion made all the noise. Wolf Larsen was theleopard.

　　"You see the sacredness of our hospitality," I said bitterly toMaud Brewster.

　　She nodded her head that she heard, and I noted in her face thesigns of the same sickness at sight or sound of violent strugglefrom which I had suffered so severely during my first weeks on theGhost.

　　"Wouldn't it be better if you went forward, say by the steeragecompanion-way, until it is over?" I suggested.

　　She shook her head and gazed at me pitifully. She was notfrightened, 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, thatI am compelled to take it - if you and I are ever to get out ofthis scrape with our lives."

　　"It is not nice - for me," I added.

　　"I understand," she said, in a weak, far-away voice, and her eyesshowed me that she did understand.

　　The sounds from below soon died away. Then Wolf Larsen came aloneon deck. There was a slight flush under his bronze, but otherwisehe 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. "Hoistin your boat," he said to them. "Your hunter's decided to stayaboard awhile and doesn't want it pounding alongside."

　　"Hoist in your boat, I said," he repeated, this time in sharpertones 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, asthey moved slowly to comply, "and we might as well start with afriendly understanding. Lively now! Death Larsen makes you jumpbetter than that, and you know it!"

　　Their movements perceptibly quickened under his coaching, and asthe boat swung inboard I was sent forward to let go the jibs. WolfLarsen, at the wheel, directed the Ghost after the Macedonia'ssecond weather boat.

　　Under way, and with nothing for the time being to do, I turned myattention to the situation of the boats. The Macedonia's thirdweather boat was being attacked by two of ours, the fourth by ourremaining three; and the fifth, turn about, was taking a hand inthe defence of its nearest mate. The fight had opened at longdistance, and the rifles were cracking steadily. A quick, snappysea was being kicked up by the wind, a condition which preventedfine shooting; and now and again, as we drew closer, we could seethe bullets zip-zipping from wave to wave.

　　The boat we were pursuing had squared away and was running beforethe wind to escape us, and, in the course of its flight, to takepart in repulsing our general boat attack.

　　Attending to sheets and tacks now left me little time to see whatwas taking place, but I happened to be on the poop when Wolf Larsenordered the two strange sailors forward and into the forecastle.They went sullenly, but they went. He next ordered Miss Brewsterbelow, and smiled at the instant horror that leapt into her eyes.

　　"You'll find nothing gruesome down there," he said, "only an unhurtman securely made fast to the ring-bolts. Bullets are liable tocome aboard, and I don't want you killed, you know."

　　Even as he spoke, a bullet was deflected by a brass-capped spoke ofthe wheel between his hands and screeched off through the air towindward.

　　"You see," he said to her; and then to me, "Mr. Van Weyden, willyou take the wheel?"

　　Maud Brewster had stepped inside the companion-way so that only herhead was exposed. Wolf Larsen had procured a rifle and wasthrowing a cartridge into the barrel. I begged her with my eyes togo below, but she smiled and said:

　　"We may be feeble land-creatures without legs, but we can showCaptain Larsen that we are at least as brave as he."

　　He gave her a quick look of admiration.

　　"I like you a hundred per cent. better for that," he said. "Books,and brains, and bravery. You are well-rounded, a blue-stocking fitto 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 mountin her own.

　　"We are braver," I hastened to say. "At least, speaking formyself, I know I am braver than Captain Larsen."

　　It was I who was now favoured by a quick look. He was wondering ifI were making fun of him. I put three or four spokes over tocounteract a sheer toward the wind on the part of the Ghost, andthen steadied her. Wolf Larsen was still waiting an explanation,and I pointed down to my knees.

　　"You will observe there," I said, "a slight trembling. It isbecause I am afraid, the flesh is afraid; and I am afraid in mymind because I do not wish to die. But my spirit masters thetrembling 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 theother hand, it even gives you delight. You enjoy it. You may beunafraid, Mr. Larsen, but you must grant that the bravery is mine."

　　"You're right," he acknowledged at once. "I never thought of it inthat way before. But is the opposite true? If you are braver thanI, am I more cowardly than you?"

　　We both laughed at the absurdity, and he dropped down to the deckand rested his rifle across the rail. The bullets we had receivedhad travelled nearly a mile, but by now we had cut that distance inhalf. He fired three careful shots. The first struck fifty feetto windward of the boat, the second alongside; and at the third theboat-steerer let loose his steering-oar and crumpled up in thebottom 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 chancethe boat-puller doesn't know how to steer. In which case, thehunter cannot steer and shoot at the same time"

　　His reasoning was justified, for the boat rushed at once into thewind and the hunter sprang aft to take the boat-steerer's place.There was no more shooting, though the rifles were still crackingmerrily from the other boats.

　　The hunter had managed to get the boat before the wind again, butwe ran down upon it, going at least two feet to its one. A hundredyards away, I saw the boat-puller pass a rifle to the hunter. WolfLarsen went amidships and took the coil of the throat-halyards fromits pin. Then he peered over the rail with levelled rifle. TwiceI saw the hunter let go the steering-oar with one hand, reach forhis rifle, and hesitate. We were now alongside and foaming past.

　　"Here, you!" Wolf Larsen cried suddenly to the boat-puller. "Takea 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, helooked to his hunter for orders. The hunter, in turn, was in aquandary. His rifle was between his knees, but if he let go thesteering-oar in order to shoot, the boat would sweep around andcollide with the schooner. Also he saw Wolf Larsen's rifle bearingupon him and knew he would be shot ere he could get his rifle intoplay.

　　"Take a turn," he said quietly to the man.

　　The boat-puller obeyed, taking a turn around the little forwardthwart and paying the line as it jerked taut. The boat sheered outwith a rush, and the hunter steadied it to a parallel course sometwenty 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 onehand. When they were fast, bow and stern, and the two uninjuredmen prepared to come aboard, the hunter picked up his rifle as ifto place it in a secure position.

　　"Drop it!" Wolf Larsen cried, and the hunter dropped it as thoughit were hot and had burned him.

　　Once aboard, the two prisoners hoisted in the boat and under WolfLarsen's direction carried the wounded boat-steerer down into theforecastle.

　　"If our five boats do as well as you and I have done, we'll have apretty 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 Weydenwill 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," headded, pointing at the Macedonia's third boat, for which I had beensteering and which was now nearly abreast of us. "That's Horner'sand Smoke's work. I told them we wanted live men, not carcasses.But the joy of shooting to hit is a most compelling thing, whenonce you've learned how to shoot. Ever experienced it, Mr. VanWeyden?"

　　I shook my head and regarded their work. It had indeed beenbloody, for they had drawn off and joined our other three boats inthe attack on the remaining two of the enemy. The deserted boatwas in the trough of the sea, rolling drunkenly across each comber,its loose spritsail out at right angles to it and fluttering andflapping in the wind. The hunter and boat-puller were both lyingawkwardly in the bottom, but the boat-steerer lay across thegunwale, half in and half out, his arms trailing in the water andhis head rolling from side to side.

　　"Don't look, Miss Brewster, please don't look," I had begged ofher, and I was glad that she had minded me and been spared thesight.

　　"Head right into the bunch, Mr. Van Weyden," was Wolf Larsen'scommand.

　　As we drew nearer, the firing ceased, and we saw that the fight wasover. The remaining two boats had been captured by our five, andthe seven were grouped together, waiting to be picked up.

　　"Look at that!" I cried involuntarily, pointing to the north-east.

　　The blot of smoke which indicated the Macedonia's position hadreappeared.

　　"Yes, I've been watching it," was Wolf Larsen's calm reply. Hemeasured the distance away to the fog-bank, and for an instantpaused to feel the weight of the wind on his cheek. "We'll makeit, I think; but you can depend upon it that blessed brother ofmine 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 beatyou out, and I hope you no worse than that you rack your oldengines into scrap."

　　When we hove to, a hasty though orderly confusion reigned. Theboats came aboard from every side at once. As fast as theprisoners came over the rail they were marshalled forward to theforecastle by our hunters, while our sailors hoisted in the boats,pell-mell, dropping them anywhere upon the deck and not stopping tolash them. We were already under way, all sails set and drawing,and the sheets being slacked off for a wind abeam, as the last boatlifted clear of the water and swung in the tackles.

　　There was need for haste. The Macedonia, belching the blackest ofsmoke from her funnel, was charging down upon us from out of thenorth-east. Neglecting the boats that remained to her, she hadaltered her course so as to anticipate ours. She was not runningstraight for us, but ahead of us. Our courses were converging likethe sides of an angle, the vertex of which was at the edge of thefog-bank. It was there, or not at all, that the Macedonia couldhope to catch us. The hope for the Ghost lay in that she shouldpass that point before the Macedonia arrived at it.

　　Wolf Larsen was steering, his eyes glistening and snapping as theydwelt upon and leaped from detail to detail of the chase. Now hestudied the sea to windward for signs of the wind slackening orfreshening, now the Macedonia; and again, his eyes roved over everysail, and he gave commands to slack a sheet here a trifle, to comein on one there a trifle, till he was drawing out of the Ghost thelast bit of speed she possessed. All feuds and grudges wereforgotten, and I was surprised at the alacrity with which the menwho had so long endured his brutality sprang to execute his orders.Strange to say, the unfortunate Johnson came into my mind as welifted and surged and heeled along, and I was aware of a regretthat he was not alive and present; he had so loved the Ghost anddelighted in her sailing powers.

　　"Better get your rifles, you fellows," Wolf Larsen called to ourhunters; and the five men lined the lee rail, guns in hand, andwaited.

　　The Macedonia was now but a mile away, the black smoke pouring fromher funnel at a right angle, so madly she raced, pounding throughthe sea at a seventeen-knot gait - "'Sky-hooting through thebrine," as Wolf Larsen quoted while gazing at her. We were notmaking more than nine knots, but the fog-bank was very near.

　　A puff of smoke broke from the Macedonia's deck, we heard a heavyreport, and a round hole took form in the stretched canvas of ourmainsail. They were shooting at us with one of the small cannonwhich rumour had said they carried on board. Our men, clusteringamidships, waved their hats and raised a derisive cheer. Againthere was a puff of smoke and a loud report, this time the cannon-ball striking not more than twenty feet astern and glancing twicefrom sea to sea to windward ere it sank.

　　But there was no rifle-firing for the reason that all their hunterswere out in the boats or our prisoners. When the two vessels werehalf-a-mile apart, a third shot made another hole in our mainsail.Then we entered the fog. It was about us, veiling and hiding us inits dense wet gauze.

　　The sudden transition was startling. The moment before we had beenleaping through the sunshine, the clear sky above us, the seabreaking and rolling wide to the horizon, and a ship, vomitingsmoke and fire and iron missiles, rushing madly upon us. And atonce, as in an instant's leap, the sun was blotted out, there wasno sky, even our mastheads were lost to view, and our horizon wassuch as tear-blinded eyes may see. The grey mist drove by us likea rain. Every woollen filament of our garments, every hair of ourheads and faces, was jewelled with a crystal globule. The shroudswere wet with moisture; it dripped from our rigging overhead; andon the underside of our booms drops of water took shape in longswaying lines, which were detached and flung to the deck in mimicshowers at each surge of the schooner. I was aware of a pent,stifled feeling. As the sounds of the ship thrusting herselfthrough the waves were hurled back upon us by the fog, so wereone's thoughts. The mind recoiled from contemplation of a worldbeyond this wet veil which wrapped us around. This was the world,the universe itself, its bounds so near one felt impelled to reachout both arms and push them back. It was impossible, that the restcould be beyond these walls of grey. The rest was a dream, no morethan the memory of a dream.

　　It was weird, strangely weird. I looked at Maud Brewster and knewthat she was similarly affected. Then I looked at Wolf Larsen, butthere was nothing subjective about his state of consciousness. Hiswhole concern was with the immediate, objective present. He stillheld the wheel, and I felt that he was timing Time, reckoning thepassage of the minutes with each forward lunge and leeward roll ofthe Ghost.

　　"Go for'ard and hard alee without any noise," he said to me in alow voice. "Clew up the topsails first. Set men at all thesheets. Let there be no rattling of blocks, no sound of voices.No noise, understand, no noise."

　　When all was ready, the word "hard-a-lee" was passed forward to mefrom man to man; and the Ghost heeled about on the port tack withpractically no noise at all. And what little there was, - theslapping of a few reef-points and the creaking of a sheave in ablock or two, - was ghostly under the hollow echoing pall in whichwe were swathed.

　　We had scarcely filled away, it seemed, when the fog thinnedabruptly and we were again in the sunshine, the wide-stretching seabreaking before us to the sky-line. But the ocean was bare. Nowrathful Macedonia broke its surface nor blackened the sky with hersmoke.

　　Wolf Larsen at once squared away and ran down along the rim of thefog-bank. His trick was obvious. He had entered the fog towindward of the steamer, and while the steamer had blindly drivenon into the fog in the chance of catching him, he had come aboutand out of his shelter and was now running down to re-enter toleeward. Successful in this, the old simile of the needle in thehaystack would be mild indeed compared with his brother's chance offinding him. He did not run long. Jibing the fore- and main-sailsand setting the topsails again, we headed back into the bank. Aswe entered I could have sworn I saw a vague bulk emerging towindward. I looked quickly at Wolf Larsen. Already we wereourselves buried in the fog, but he nodded his head. He, too, hadseen it - the Macedonia, guessing his manoeuvre and failing by amoment in anticipating it. There was no doubt that we had escapedunseen.

　　"He can't keep this up," Wolf Larsen said. "He'll have to go backfor the rest of his boats. Send a man to the wheel, Mr. VanWeyden, keep this course for the present, and you might as well setthe watches, for we won't do any lingering to-night."

　　"I'd give five hundred dollars, though," he added, "just to beaboard the Macedonia for five minutes, listening to my brothercurse."

　　"And now, Mr. Van Weyden," he said to me when he had been relievedfrom the wheel, "we must make these new-comers welcome. Serve outplenty of whisky to the hunters and see that a few bottles slipfor'ard. I'll wager every man Jack of them is over the side to-morrow, hunting for Wolf Larsen as contentedly as ever they huntedfor Death Larsen."

　　"But won't they escape as Wainwright did?" I asked.

　　He laughed shrewdly. "Not as long as our old hunters have anythingto say about it. I'm dividing amongst them a dollar a skin for allthe skins shot by our new hunters. At least half of theirenthusiasm to-day was due to that. Oh, no, there won't be anyescaping if they have anything to say about it. And now you'dbetter get for'ard to your hospital duties. There must be a fullward waiting for you."