Chapter 34

by Jack London

　　Chapter XXXIV

　　"It's too bad the Ghost has lost her masts. Why we could sail awayin her. Don't you think we could, Humphrey?"

　　I sprang excitedly to my feet.

　　"I wonder, I wonder," I repeated, pacing up and down.

　　Maud's eyes were shining with anticipation as they followed me.She had such faith in me! And the thought of it was so much addedpower. I remembered Michelet's "To man, woman is as the earth wasto her legendary son; he has but to fall down and kiss her breastand he is strong again." For the first time I knew the wonderfultruth of his words. Why, I was living them. Maud was all this tome, an unfailing, source of strength and courage. I had but tolook at her, or think of her, and be strong again.

　　"It can be done, it can be done," I was thinking and assertingaloud. "What men have done, I can do; and if they have never donethis before, still I can do it."

　　"What? for goodness' sake," Maud demanded. "Do be merciful. Whatis it you can do?"

　　"We can do it," I amended. "Why, nothing else than put the mastsback into the Ghost and sail away."

　　"Humphrey!" she exclaimed.

　　And I felt as proud of my conception as if it were already a factaccomplished.

　　"But how is it possible to be done?" she asked.

　　"I don't know," was my answer. "I know only that I am capable ofdoing anything these days."

　　I smiled proudly at her - too proudly, for she dropped her eyes andwas for the moment silent.

　　"But there is Captain Larsen," she objected.

　　"Blind and helpless," I answered promptly, waving him aside as astraw.

　　"But those terrible hands of his! You know how he leaped acrossthe opening of the lazarette."

　　"And you know also how I crept about and avoided him," I contendedgaily.

　　"And lost your shoes."

　　"You'd hardly expect them to avoid Wolf Larsen without my feetinside of them."

　　We both laughed, and then went seriously to work constructing theplan whereby we were to step the masts of the Ghost and return tothe world. I remembered hazily the physics of my school days,while the last few months had given me practical experience withmechanical purchases. I must say, though, when we walked down tothe Ghost to inspect more closely the task before us, that thesight of the great masts lying in the water almost disheartened me.Where were we to begin? If there had been one mast standing,something high up to which to fasten blocks and tackles! But therewas nothing. It reminded me of the problem of lifting oneself byone's boot-straps. I understood the mechanics of levers; but wherewas I to get a fulcrum?

　　There was the mainmast, fifteen inches in diameter at what was nowthe butt, still sixty-five feet in length, and weighing, I roughlycalculated, at least three thousand pounds. And then came theforemast, larger in diameter, and weighing surely thirty-fivehundred pounds. Where was I to begin? Maud stood silently by myside, while I evolved in my mind the contrivance known amongsailors as "shears." But, though known to sailors, I invented itthere on Endeavour Island. By crossing and lashing the ends of twospars, and then elevating them in the air like an inverted "V," Icould get a point above the deck to which to make fast my hoistingtackle. To this hoisting tackle I could, if necessary, attach asecond hoisting tackle. And then there was the windlass!

　　Maud saw that I had achieved a solution, and her eyes warmedsympathetically.

　　"What are you going to do?" she asked.

　　"Clear that raffle," I answered, pointing to the tangled wreckageoverside.

　　Ah, the decisiveness, the very sound of the words, was good in myears. "Clear that raffle!" Imagine so salty a phrase on the lipsof the Humphrey Van Weyden of a few months gone!

　　There must have been a touch of the melodramatic in my pose andvoice, for Maud smiled. Her appreciation of the ridiculous waskeen, and in all things she unerringly saw and felt, where itexisted, the touch of sham, the overshading, the overtone. It wasthis which had given poise and penetration to her own work and madeher of worth to the world. The serious critic, with the sense ofhumour and the power of expression, must inevitably command theworld's ear. And so it was that she had commanded. Her sense ofhumour was really the artist's instinct for proportion.

　　"I'm sure I've heard it before, somewhere, in books," she murmuredgleefully.

　　I had an instinct for proportion myself, and I collapsed forthwith,descending from the dominant pose of a master of matter to a stateof humble confusion which was, to say the least, very miserable.

　　Her hand leapt out at once to mine.

　　"I'm so sorry," she said.

　　"No need to be," I gulped. "It does me good. There's too much ofthe schoolboy in me. All of which is neither here nor there. Whatwe've got to do is actually and literally to clear that raffle. Ifyou'll come with me in the boat, we'll get to work and straightenthings out."

　　"'When the topmen clear the raffle with their clasp-knives in theirteeth,'" she quoted at me; and for the rest of the afternoon wemade merry over our labour.

　　Her task was to hold the boat in position while I worked at thetangle. And such a tangle - halyards, sheets, guys, down-hauls,shrouds, stays, all washed about and back and forth and through,and twined and knotted by the sea. I cut no more than wasnecessary, and what with passing the long ropes under and aroundthe booms and masts, of unreeving the halyards and sheets, ofcoiling down in the boat and uncoiling in order to pass throughanother knot in the bight, I was soon wet to the skin.

　　The sails did require some cutting, and the canvas, heavy withwater, tried my strength severely; but I succeeded before nightfallin getting it all spread out on the beach to dry. We were bothvery tired when we knocked off for supper, and we had done goodwork, too, though to the eye it appeared insignificant.

　　Next morning, with Maud as able assistant, I went into the hold ofthe Ghost to clear the steps of the mast-butts. We had no morethan begun work when the sound of my knocking and hammering broughtWolf Larsen.

　　"Hello below!" he cried down the open hatch.

　　The sound of his voice made Maud quickly draw close to me, as forprotection, and she rested one hand on my arm while we parleyed.

　　"Hello on deck," I replied. "Good-morning to you."

　　"What are you doing down there?" he demanded. "Trying to scuttlemy ship for me?"

　　"Quite the opposite; I'm repairing her," was my answer.

　　"But what in thunder are you repairing?" There was puzzlement inhis voice.

　　"Why, I'm getting everything ready for re-stepping the masts," Ireplied easily, as though it were the simplest project imaginable.

　　"It seems as though you're standing on your own legs at last,Hump," we heard him say; and then for some time he was silent.

　　"But I say, Hump," he called down. "You can't do it."

　　"Oh, yes, I can," I retorted. "I'm doing it now."

　　"But this is my vessel, my particular property. What if I forbidyou?"

　　"You forget," I replied. "You are no longer the biggest bit of theferment. You were, once, and able to eat me, as you were pleasedto phrase it; but there has been a diminishing, and I am now ableto eat you. The yeast has grown stale."

　　He gave a short, disagreeable laugh. "I see you're working myphilosophy back on me for all it is worth. But don't make themistake of under-estimating me. For your own good I warn you."

　　"Since when have you become a philanthropist?" I queried."Confess, now, in warning me for my own good, that you are veryconsistent."

　　He ignored my sarcasm, saying, "Suppose I clap the hatch on, now?You won't fool me as you did in the lazarette."

　　"Wolf Larsen," I said sternly, for the first time addressing him bythis his most familiar name, "I am unable to shoot a helpless,unresisting man. You have proved that to my satisfaction as wellas yours. But I warn you now, and not so much for your own good asfor mine, that I shall shoot you the moment you attempt a hostileact. I can shoot you now, as I stand here; and if you are sominded, just go ahead and try to clap on the hatch."

　　"Nevertheless, I forbid you, I distinctly forbid your tamperingwith my ship."

　　"But, man!" I expostulated, "you advance the fact that it is yourship as though it were a moral right. You have never consideredmoral rights in your dealings with others. You surely do not dreamthat I'll consider them in dealing with you?"

　　I had stepped underneath the open hatchway so that I could see him.The lack of expression on his face, so different from when I hadwatched him unseen, was enhanced by the unblinking, staring eyes.It was not a pleasant face to look upon.

　　"And none so poor, not even Hump, to do him reverence," he sneered.

　　The sneer was wholly in his voice. His face remainedexpressionless as ever.

　　"How do you do, Miss Brewster," he said suddenly, after a pause.

　　I started. She had made no noise whatever, had not even moved.Could it be that some glimmer of vision remained to him? or thathis vision was coming back?

　　"How do you do, Captain Larsen," she answered. "Pray, how did youknow I was here?"

　　"Heard you breathing, of course. I say, Hump's improving, don'tyou think so?"

　　"I don't know," she answered, smiling at me. "I have never seenhim otherwise."

　　"You should have seen him before, then."

　　"Wolf Larsen, in large doses," I murmured, "before and aftertaking."

　　"I want to tell you again, Hump," he said threateningly, "thatyou'd better leave things alone."

　　"But don't you care to escape as well as we?" I askedincredulously.

　　"No," was his answer. "I intend dying here."

　　"Well, we don't," I concluded defiantly, beginning again myknocking and hammering.