Chapter 33

by Jack London

　　Chapter XXXIIII

　　We waited all day for Wolf Larsen to come ashore. It was anintolerable period of anxiety. Each moment one or the other of uscast expectant glances toward the Ghost. But he did not come. Hedid not even appear on deck.

　　"Perhaps it is his headache," I said. "I left him lying on thepoop. 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 ofhim! Don't go - please don't go!"

　　She rested her hand appealingly on mine, and sent my pulsefluttering. My heart was surely in my eyes for a moment. The dearand lovely woman! And she was so much the woman, clinging andappealing, sunshine and dew to my manhood, rooting it deeper andsending through it the sap of a new strength. I was for putting myarm around her, as when in the midst of the seal herd; but Iconsidered, and refrained.

　　"I shall not take any risks," I said. "I'll merely peep over thebow and see."

　　She pressed my hand earnestly and let me go. But the space on deckwhere I had left him lying was vacant. He had evidently gonebelow. That night we stood alternate watches, one of us sleepingat a time; for there was no telling what Wolf Larsen might do. Hewas 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 theafternoon of the fourth day; "Perhaps he is ill, very ill. He maybe dead."

　　"Or dying," was her afterthought when she had waited some time forme 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. Itwould be terrible if he were. I could never forgive myself. Wemust do something."

　　"Perhaps," I suggested again.

　　I waited, smiling inwardly at the woman of her which compelled asolicitude for Wolf Larsen, of all creatures. Where was hersolicitude for me, I thought, - for me whom she had been afraid tohave merely peep aboard?

　　She was too subtle not to follow the trend of my silence. And shewas as direct as she was subtle.

　　"You must go aboard, Humphrey, and find out," she said. "And ifyou 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 thedeck. Aft I walked to the cabin companion, where I contentedmyself with hailing below. Wolf Larsen answered, and as he startedto ascend the stairs I cocked my revolver. I displayed it openlyduring our conversation, but he took no notice of it. He appearedthe same, physically, as when last I saw him, but he was gloomy andsilent. In fact, the few words we spoke could hardly be called aconversation. I did not inquire why he had not been ashore, nordid he ask why I had not come aboard. His head was all rightagain, he said, and so, without further parley, I left him.

　　Maud received my report with obvious relief, and the sight of smokewhich later rose in the galley put her in a more cheerful mood.The next day, and the next, we saw the galley smoke rising, andsometimes we caught glimpses of him on the poop. But that was all.He made no attempt to come ashore. This we knew, for we stillmaintained our night-watches. We were waiting for him to dosomething, to show his hand, so to say, and his inaction puzzledand worried us.

　　A week of this passed by. We had no other interest than WolfLarsen, and his presence weighed us down with an apprehension whichprevented 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'ssolicitude again growing, though she timidly - and even proudly, Ithink - forbore a repetition of her request. After all, whatcensure could be put upon her? She was divinely altruistic, andshe was a woman. Besides, I was myself aware of hurt at thought ofthis man whom I had tried to kill, dying alone with his fellow-creatures so near. He was right. The code of my group wasstronger than I. The fact that he had hands, feet, and a bodyshaped somewhat like mine, constituted a claim which I could notignore.

　　So I did not wait a second time for Maud to send me. I discoveredthat we stood in need of condensed milk and marmalade, andannounced that I was going aboard. I could see that she wavered.She even went so far as to murmur that they were non-essentials andthat my trip after them might be inexpedient. And as she hadfollowed the trend of my silence, she now followed the trend of myspeech, and she knew that I was going aboard, not because ofcondensed milk and marmalade, but because of her and of heranxiety, which she knew she had failed to hide.

　　I took off my shoes when I gained the forecastle head, and wentnoiselessly aft in my stocking feet. Nor did I call this time fromthe top of the companion-way. Cautiously descending, I found thecabin deserted. The door to his state-room was closed. At first Ithought of knocking, then I remembered my ostensible errand andresolved to carry it out. Carefully avoiding noise, I lifted thetrap-door in the floor and set it to one side. The slop-chest, aswell as the provisions, was stored in the lazarette, and I tookadvantage of the opportunity to lay in a stock of underclothing.

　　As I emerged from the lazarette I heard sounds in Wolf Larsen'sstate-room. I crouched and listened. The door-knob rattled.Furtively, instinctively, I slunk back behind the table and drewand 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 hisface, - the face of Wolf Larsen the fighter, the strong man, theindomitable one. For all the world like a woman wringing herhands, he raised his clenched fists and groaned. One fistunclosed, and the open palm swept across his eyes as thoughbrushing away cobwebs.

　　"God! God!" he groaned, and the clenched fists were raised againto the infinite despair with which his throat vibrated.

　　It was horrible. I was trembling all over, and I could feel theshivers running up and down my spine and the sweat standing out onmy forehead. Surely there can be little in this world more awfulthan the spectacle of a strong man in the moment when he is utterlyweak and broken.

　　But Wolf Larsen regained control of himself by an exertion of hisremarkable will. And it was exertion. His whole frame shook withthe struggle. He resembled a man on the verge of a fit. His facestrove to compose itself, writhing and twisting in the effort tillhe broke down again. Once more the clenched fists went upward andhe groaned. He caught his breath once or twice and sobbed. Thenhe was successful. I could have thought him the old Wolf Larsen,and yet there was in his movements a vague suggestion of weaknessand indecision. He started for the companion-way, and steppedforward quite as I had been accustomed to see him do; and yetagain, in his very walk, there seemed that suggestion of weaknessand indecision.

　　I was now concerned with fear for myself. The open trap laydirectly in his path, and his discovery of it would lead instantlyto his discovery of me. I was angry with myself for being caughtin so cowardly a position, crouching on the floor. There was yettime. I rose swiftly to my feet, and, I know, quite unconsciouslyassumed a defiant attitude. He took no notice of me. Nor did henotice the open trap. Before I could grasp the situation, or act,he had walked right into the trap. One foot was descending intothe opening, while the other foot was just on the verge ofbeginning the uplift. But when the descending foot missed thesolid flooring and felt vacancy beneath, it was the old Wolf Larsenand the tiger muscles that made the falling body spring across theopening, even as it fell, so that he struck on his chest andstomach, with arms outstretched, on the floor of the opposite side.The next instant he had drawn up his legs and rolled clear. But herolled into my marmalade and underclothes and against the trap-door.

　　The expression on his face was one of complete comprehension. Butbefore I could guess what he had comprehended, he had dropped thetrap-door into place, closing the lazarette. Then I understood.He thought he had me inside. Also, he was blind, blind as a bat.I watched him, breathing carefully so that he should not hear me.He stepped quickly to his state-room. I saw his hand miss thedoor-knob by an inch, quickly fumble for it, and find it. This wasmy chance. I tiptoed across the cabin and to the top of thestairs. He came back, dragging a heavy sea-chest, which hedeposited on top of the trap. Not content with this he fetched asecond chest and placed it on top of the first. Then he gatheredup the marmalade and underclothes and put them on the table. Whenhe started up the companion-way, I retreated, silently rolling overon top of the cabin.

　　He shoved the slide part way back and rested his arms on it, hisbody still in the companion-way. His attitude was of one lookingforward the length of the schooner, or staring, rather, for hiseyes were fixed and unblinking. I was only five feet away anddirectly in what should have been his line of vision. It wasuncanny. I felt myself a ghost, what of my invisibility. I wavedmy hand back and forth, of course without effect; but when themoving shadow fell across his face I saw at once that he wassusceptible to the impression. His face became more expectant andtense as he tried to analyze and identify the impression. He knewthat he had responded to something from without, that hissensibility had been touched by a changing something in hisenvironment; but what it was he could not discover. I ceasedwaving my hand, so that the shadow remained stationary. He slowlymoved his head back and forth under it and turned from side toside, now in the sunshine, now in the shade, feeling the shadow, asit were, testing it by sensation.

　　I, too, was busy, trying to reason out how he was aware of theexistence of so intangible a thing as a shadow. If it were hiseyeballs only that were affected, or if his optic nerve were notwholly destroyed, the explanation was simple. If otherwise, thenthe only conclusion I could reach was that the sensitive skinrecognized the difference of temperature between shade andsunshine. Or, perhaps, - who can tell? - it was that fabled sixthsense which conveyed to him the loom and feel of an object close athand.

　　Giving over his attempt to determine the shadow, he stepped on deckand started forward, walking with a swiftness and confidence whichsurprised me. And still there was that hint of the feebleness ofthe blind in his walk. I knew it now for what it was.

　　To my amused chagrin, he discovered my shoes on the forecastle headand brought them back with him into the galley. I watched himbuild the fire and set about cooking food for himself; then I stoleinto the cabin for my marmalade and underclothes, slipped back pastthe galley, and climbed down to the beach to deliver my barefootreport.