Chapter 32

by Jack London

　　Chapter XXXII

　　I awoke, oppressed by a mysterious sensation. There seemedsomething missing in my environment. But the mystery andoppressiveness vanished after the first few seconds of waking, whenI identified the missing something as the wind. I had fallenasleep in that state of nerve tension with which one meets thecontinuous shock of sound or movement, and I had awakened, stilltense, bracing myself to meet the pressure of something which nolonger bore upon me.

　　It was the first night I had spent under cover in several months,and I lay luxuriously for some minutes under my blankets (for oncenot wet with fog or spray), analysing, first, the effect producedupon me by the cessation of the wind, and next, the joy which wasmine from resting on the mattress made by Maud's hands. When I haddressed and opened the door, I heard the waves still lapping on thebeach, garrulously attesting the fury of the night. It was a clearday, and the sun was shining. I had slept late, and I steppedoutside with sudden energy, bent upon making up lost time asbefitted a dweller on Endeavour Island.

　　And when outside, I stopped short. I believed my eyes withoutquestion, and yet I was for the moment stunned by what theydisclosed to me. There, on the beach, not fifty feet away, bow on,dismasted, was a black-hulled vessel. Masts and booms, tangledwith shrouds, sheets, and rent canvas, were rubbing gentlyalongside. I could have rubbed my eyes as I looked. There was thehome-made galley we had built, the familiar break of the poop, thelow yacht-cabin scarcely rising above the rail. It was the Ghost.

　　What freak of fortune had brought it here - here of all spots? whatchance of chances? I looked at the bleak, inaccessible wall at myback and know the profundity of despair. Escape was hopeless, outof the question. I thought of Maud, asleep there in the hut we hadreared; I remembered her "Good-night, Humphrey"; "my woman, mymate," went ringing through my brain, but now, alas, it was a knellthat sounded. Then everything went black before my eyes.

　　Possibly it was the fraction of a second, but I had no knowledge ofhow long an interval had lapsed before I was myself again. Therelay the Ghost, bow on to the beach, her splintered bowspritprojecting over the sand, her tangled spars rubbing against herside to the lift of the crooning waves. Something must be done,must be done.

　　It came upon me suddenly, as strange, that nothing moved aboard.Wearied from the night of struggle and wreck, all hands were yetasleep, I thought. My next thought was that Maud and I might yetescape. If we could take to the boat and make round the pointbefore any one awoke? I would call her and start. My hand waslifted at her door to knock, when I recollected the smallness ofthe island. We could never hide ourselves upon it. There wasnothing for us but the wide raw ocean. I thought of our snuglittle huts, our supplies of meat and oil and moss and firewood,and I knew that we could never survive the wintry sea and the greatstorms which were to come.

　　So I stood, with hesitant knuckle, without her door. It wasimpossible, impossible. A wild thought of rushing in and killingher as she slept rose in my mind. And then, in a flash, the bettersolution came to me. All hands were asleep. Why not creep aboardthe Ghost, - well I knew the way to Wolf Larsen's bunk, - and killhim in his sleep? After that - well, we would see. But with himdead there was time and space in which to prepare to do otherthings; and besides, whatever new situation arose, it could notpossibly be worse than the present one.

　　My knife was at my hip. I returned to my hut for the shot-gun,made sure it was loaded, and went down to the Ghost. With somedifficulty, and at the expense of a wetting to the waist, I climbedaboard. The forecastle scuttle was open. I paused to listen forthe breathing of the men, but there was no breathing. I almostgasped as the thought came to me: What if the Ghost is deserted?I listened more closely. There was no sound. I cautiouslydescended the ladder. The place had the empty and musty feel andsmell usual to a dwelling no longer inhabited. Everywhere was athick litter of discarded and ragged garments, old sea-boots, leakyoilskins - all the worthless forecastle dunnage of a long voyage.

　　Abandoned hastily, was my conclusion, as I ascended to the deck.Hope was alive again in my breast, and I looked about me withgreater coolness. I noted that the boats were missing. Thesteerage told the same tale as the forecastle. The hunters hadpacked their belongings with similar haste. The Ghost wasdeserted. It was Maud's and mine. I thought of the ship's storesand the lazarette beneath the cabin, and the idea came to me ofsurprising Maud with something nice for breakfast.

　　The reaction from my fear, and the knowledge that the terrible deedI 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, withnothing distinct in my mind except joy and the hope that Maud wouldsleep on until the surprise breakfast was quite ready for her. AsI rounded the galley, a new satisfaction was mine at thought of allthe splendid cooking utensils inside. I sprang up the break of thepoop, and saw - Wolf Larsen. What of my impetus and the stunningsurprise, I clattered three or four steps along the deck before Icould stop myself. He was standing in the companion-way, only hishead and shoulders visible, staring straight at me. His arms wereresting on the half-open slide. He made no movement whatever -simply stood there, staring at me.

　　I began to tremble. The old stomach sickness clutched me. I putone hand on the edge of the house to steady myself. My lips seemedsuddenly dry and I moistened them against the need of speech. Nordid I for an instant take my eyes off him. Neither of us spoke.There was something ominous in his silence, his immobility. All myold 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 helplessnessstrong upon me, I was waiting for him to take the initiative.Then, as the moments went by, it came to me that the situation wasanalogous to the one in which I had approached the long-maned bull,my intention of clubbing obscured by fear until it became a desireto make him run. So it was at last impressed upon me that I wasthere, not to have Wolf Larsen take the initiative, but to take itmyself.

　　I cocked both barrels and levelled the shot-gun at him. Had hemoved, attempted to drop down the companion-way, I know I wouldhave shot him. But he stood motionless and staring as before. Andas I faced him, with levelled gun shaking in my hands, I had timeto note the worn and haggard appearance of his face. It was as ifsome strong anxiety had wasted it. The cheeks were sunken, andthere was a wearied, puckered expression on the brow. And itseemed to me that his eyes were strange, not only the expression,but the physical seeming, as though the optic nerves and supportingmuscles had suffered strain and slightly twisted the eyeballs.

　　All this I saw, and my brain now working rapidly, I thought athousand thoughts; and yet I could not pull the triggers. Ilowered the gun and stepped to the corner of the cabin, primarilyto relieve the tension on my nerves and to make a new start, andincidentally to be closer. Again I raised the gun. He was almostat arm's length. There was no hope for him. I was resolved.There was no possible chance of missing him, no matter how poor mymarksmanship. And yet I wrestled with myself and could not pullthe triggers.

　　"Well?" he demanded impatiently.

　　I strove vainly to force my fingers down on the triggers, andvainly 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. Youare impotent. Your conventional morality is stronger than you.You are the slave to the opinions which have credence among thepeople you have known and have read about. Their code has beendrummed into your head from the time you lisped, and in spite ofyour philosophy, and of what I have taught you, it won't let youkill an unarmed, unresisting man."

　　"I know it," I said hoarsely.

　　"And you know that I would kill an unarmed man as readily as Iwould smoke a cigar," he went on. "You know me for what I am, - myworth in the world by your standard. You have called me snake,tiger, shark, monster, and Caliban. And yet, you little ragpuppet, you little echoing mechanism, you are unable to kill me asyou would a snake or a shark, because I have hands, feet, and abody shaped somewhat like yours. Bah! I had hoped better things ofyou, 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'thad a chance to look around yet. What place is this? How is theGhost lying? How did you get wet? Where's Maud? - I beg yourpardon, Miss Brewster - or should I say, 'Mrs. Van Weyden'?"

　　I had backed away from him, almost weeping at my inability to shoothim, but not fool enough to put down the gun. I hoped,desperately, that he might commit some hostile act, attempt tostrike me or choke me; for in such way only I knew I could bestirred 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 seefor yourself, bow on to the beach."

　　"There are seals here," he said. "They woke me up with theirbarking, or I'd be sleeping yet. I heard them when I drove in lastnight. 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. Thanksto 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 quiteclosely. 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 arealone?"

　　I was prepared for him again to set aside my question, and wassurprised at the readiness of his reply.

　　"My brother got me inside forty-eight hours, and through no faultof mine. Boarded me in the night with only the watch on deck.Hunters went back on me. He gave them a bigger lay. Heard himoffering it. Did it right before me. Of course the crew gave methe 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 wherethe 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 enoughleft to hold the shrouds till some severe strain should be put uponthem

　　"Cooky did that," he laughed again. "I know, though I didn't spothim 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 thecircumstances."

　　I turned to re-examine Thomas Mugridge's work.

　　"I guess I'll sit down and take the sunshine," I heard Wolf Larsensaying.

　　There was a hint, just a slight hint, of physical feebleness in hisvoice, and it was so strange that I looked quickly at him. Hishand was sweeping nervously across his face, as though he werebrushing away cobwebs. I was puzzled. The whole thing was sounlike the Wolf Larsen I had known.

　　"How are your headaches?" I asked.

　　"They still trouble me," was his answer. "I think I have onecoming 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 ofthe under arm, the forearm shielding his eyes from the sun. Istood 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; "onlyyou've got me where you want me."

　　"No, I haven't," I retorted; "for I want you a few thousand milesaway from here."

　　He chuckled, and thereafter spoke no more. He did not stir as Ipassed by him and went down into the cabin. I lifted the trap inthe floor, but for some moments gazed dubiously into the darknessof the lazarette beneath. I hesitated to descend. What if hislying down were a ruse? Pretty, indeed, to be caught there like arat. I crept softly up the companion-way and peeped at him. Hewas lying as I had left him. Again I went below; but before Idropped into the lazarette I took the precaution of casting downthe 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 ofjams, sea-biscuits, canned meats, and such things, - all I couldcarry, - and replaced the trap-door.

　　A peep at Wolf Larsen showed me that he had not moved. A brightthought struck me. I stole into his state-room and possessedmyself of his revolvers. There were no other weapons, though Ithoroughly ransacked the three remaining state-rooms. To makesure, I returned and went through the steerage and forecastle, andin the galley gathered up all the sharp meat and vegetable knives.Then I bethought me of the great yachtsman's knife he alwayscarried, and I came to him and spoke to him, first softly, thenloudly. 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 mefrom a distance; while I, armed, could always forestall him shouldhe attempt to grapple me with his terrible gorilla arms.

　　Filling a coffee-pot and frying-pan with part of my plunder, andtaking some chinaware from the cabin pantry, I left Wolf Larsenlying in the sun and went ashore.

　　Maud was still asleep. I blew up the embers (we had not yetarranged a winter kitchen), and quite feverishly cooked thebreakfast. Toward the end, I heard her moving about within thehut, making her toilet. Just as all was ready and the coffeepoured, the door opened and she came forth.

　　"It's not fair of you," was her greeting. "You are usurping one ofmy prerogatives. You know you I agreed that the cooking should bemine, and - "

　　"But just this once," I pleaded.

　　"If you promise not to do it again," she smiled. "Unless, ofcourse, you have grown tired of my poor efforts."

　　To my delight she never once looked toward the beach, and Imaintained the banter with such success all unconsciously shesipped coffee from the china cup, ate fried evaporated potatoes,and spread marmalade on her biscuit. But it could not last. I sawthe surprise that came over her. She had discovered the chinaplate from which she was eating. She looked over the breakfast,noting detail after detail. Then she looked at me, and her faceturned slowly toward the beach.

　　"Humphrey!" she said.

　　The old unnamable terror mounted into her eyes.

　　"Is - he?" she quavered.

　　I nodded my head.