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"Come on board and have a 'gam'!"
"To gam," among the sealing-schooners, is a substitute for the verbs "to
visit," "to gossip." It expresses the garrulity of the sea, and is a pleasant
break in the monotony of the life.
The Ghost swung around into the wind, and I finished my work forward in time
to run aft and lend a hand with the mainsheet.
"You will please stay on deck, Miss Brewster," Wolf Larsen said, as he started
forward to meet his guest. "And you too, Mr. Van
Weyden."
The boat had lowered its sail and run alongside. The hunter, golden bearded
like a sea-king, came over the rail and dropped on deck. But his hugeness
could not quite overcome his apprehensiveness. Doubt and distrust showed
strongly in his face.
It was a transparent face, for all of its hairy shield, and advertised instant
relief when he glanced from Wolf Larsen to me, noted that there was only the
pair of us, and then glanced over his own two men who had joined him. Surely
he had little reason to be afraid. He towered like a Goliath above Wolf
Larsen. He must have measured six feet eight or nine inches in stature, and I
subsequently learned his weight - 240 pounds. And there was no fat about him.
It was all bone and muscle.
A return of apprehension was apparent when, at the top of the companion-way,
Wolf Larsen invited him below. But he reassured himself with a glance down at
his host - a big man himself but
dwarfed by the propinquity of the giant. So all hesitancy vanished, and the
pair descended into the cabin. In the meantime, his two men, as was the wont
of visiting sailors, had gone forward into the forecastle to do some visiting
themselves.
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Suddenly, from the cabin came a great, choking bellow, followed by all the
sounds of a furious struggle. It was the leopard and the lion, and the lion
made all the noise. Wolf Larsen was the leopard.
"You see the sacredness of our hospitality," I said bitterly to
Maud Brewster.
She nodded her head that she heard, and I noted in her face the signs of the
same sickness at sight or sound of violent struggle from which I had suffered
so severely during my first weeks on the
Ghost.
"Wouldn't it be better if you went forward, say by the steerage companion-way,
until it is over?" I suggested.
She shook her head and gazed at me pitifully. She was not frightened, 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, that
I am compelled to take it - if you and I are ever to get out of this scrape
with our lives."
"It is not nice - for me," I added.
"I understand," she said, in a weak, far-away voice, and her eyes showed me
that she did understand.
The sounds from below soon died away. Then Wolf Larsen came alone on deck.
There was a slight flush under his bronze, but otherwise he 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. "Hoist in your
boat," he said to them. "Your hunter's decided to stay
aboard awhile and doesn't want it pounding alongside."
"Hoist in your boat, I said," he repeated, this time in sharper tones 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, as they moved slowly to comply,
"and we might as well start with a friendly understanding. Lively now! Death
Larsen makes you jump better than that, and you know it!"
Their movements perceptibly quickened under his coaching, and as the boat
swung inboard I was sent forward to let go the jibs. Wolf
Larsen, at the wheel, directed the Ghost after the Macedonia's second weather
boat.
Under way, and with nothing for the time being to do, I turned my attention to
the situation of the boats. The Macedonia's third weather boat was being
attacked by two of ours, the fourth by our remaining three; and the fifth,
turn about, was taking a hand in the defence of its nearest mate. The fight
had opened at long distance, and the rifles were cracking steadily. A quick,
snappy sea was being kicked up by the wind, a condition which prevented fine
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shooting; and now and again, as we drew closer, we could see the bullets
zip-zipping from wave to wave.
The boat we were pursuing had squared away and was running before the wind to
escape us, and, in the course of its flight, to take part in repulsing our
general boat attack.
Attending to sheets and tacks now left me little time to see what was taking
place, but I happened to be on the poop when Wolf Larsen ordered the two
strange sailors forward and into the forecastle.
They went sullenly, but they went. He next ordered Miss Brewster below, and
smiled at the instant horror that leapt into her eyes.
"You'll find nothing gruesome down there," he said, "only an unhurt man
securely made fast to the ring-bolts. Bullets are liable to come aboard, and
I don't want you killed, you know."
Even as he spoke, a bullet was deflected by a brass-capped spoke of the wheel
between his hands and screeched off through the air to
windward.
"You see," he said to her; and then to me, "Mr. Van Weyden, will you take the
wheel?"
Maud Brewster had stepped inside the companion-way so that only her head was
exposed. Wolf Larsen had procured a rifle and was throwing a cartridge into
the barrel. I begged her with my eyes to go below, but she smiled and said:
"We may be feeble land-creatures without legs, but we can show
Captain 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 fit to 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 mount in her
own.
"We are braver," I hastened to say. "At least, speaking for myself, I know I
am braver than Captain Larsen."
It was I who was now favoured by a quick look. He was wondering if
I were making fun of him. I put three or four spokes over to counteract a
sheer toward the wind on the part of the Ghost, and then 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 is because I am
afraid, the flesh is afraid; and I am afraid in my mind because I do not wish
to die. But my spirit masters the trembling 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 the other hand,
it even gives you delight. You enjoy it. You may be unafraid, Mr. Larsen,
but you must grant that the bravery is mine."
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"You're right," he acknowledged at once. "I never thought of it in
that way before. But is the opposite true? If you are braver than
I, am I more cowardly than you?"
We both laughed at the absurdity, and he dropped down to the deck and rested
his rifle across the rail. The bullets we had received had travelled nearly a
mile, but by now we had cut that distance in half. He fired three careful
shots. The first struck fifty feet to windward of the boat, the second
alongside; and at the third the boat-steerer let loose his steering-oar and
crumpled up in the bottom of the boat. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]
