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the time I had compressed the severed veins and arteries, the sailors were
singing and heaving in the offending monster. I did not see it myself, but my
assistants, first one and then the other, deserted me for a few moments to run
amidships and look at what was going on. The shark, a sixteen-footer, was
hoisted up against the main-rigging. Its jaws were pried apart to their
greatest extension, and a stout stake, sharpened at both ends, was so inserted
that when the pries were removed the spread jaws were fixed upon it. This
accomplished, the hook was cut out.
The shark dropped back into the sea, helpless, yet with its full
strength, doomed - to lingering starvation - a living death less meet for it
than for the man who devised the punishment.
CHAPTER XXII
I knew what it was as she came toward me. For ten minutes I had watched her
talking earnestly with the engineer, and now, with a sign for silence, I drew
her out of earshot of the helmsman. Her face was white and set; her large
eyes, larger than usual what of the purpose in them, looked penetratingly into
mine. I felt rather timid and apprehensive, for she had come to search
Humphrey Van
Weyden's soul, and Humphrey Van Weyden had nothing of which to be particularly
proud since his advent on the Ghost.
We walked to the break of the poop, where she turned and faced me.
I glanced around to see that no one was within hearing distance.
"What is it?" I asked gently; but the expression of determination on her face
did not relax.
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"I can readily understand," she began, "that this morning's affair was largely
an accident; but I have been talking with Mr. Haskins.
He tells me that the day we were rescued, even while I was in the cabin, two
men were drowned, deliberately drowned - murdered."
There was a query in her voice, and she faced me accusingly, as though I were
guilty of the deed, or at least a party to it.
"The information is quite correct," I answered. "The two men were murdered."
"And you permitted it!" she cried.
"I was unable to prevent it, is a better way of phrasing it," I
replied, still gently.
"But you tried to prevent it?" There was an emphasis on the
"tried," and a pleading little note in her voice.
"Oh, but you didn't," she hurried on, divining my answer. "But why didn't
you?"
I shrugged my shoulders. "You must remember, Miss Brewster, that you are a
new inhabitant of this little world, and that you do not yet understand the
laws which operate within it. You bring with you certain fine conceptions of
humanity, manhood, conduct, and such things; but here you will find them
misconceptions. I have found it so," I added, with an involuntary sigh.
She shook her head incredulously.
"What would you advise, then?" I asked. "That I should take a knife, or a
gun, or an axe, and kill this man?"
She half started back.
"No, not that!"
"Then what should I do? Kill myself?"
"You speak in purely materialistic terms," she objected. "There is such a
thing as moral courage, and moral courage is never without effect."
"Ah," I smiled, "you advise me to kill neither him nor myself, but to let him
kill me." I held up my hand as she was about to speak.
"For moral courage is a worthless asset on this little floating world. Leach,
one of the men who were murdered, had moral courage to an unusual degree. So
had the other man, Johnson. Not only did it not stand them in good stead, but
it destroyed them. And so with me if I should exercise what little moral
courage I may possess.
"You must understand, Miss Brewster, and understand clearly, that this man is
a monster. He is without conscience. Nothing is sacred to him, nothing is
too terrible for him to do. It was due to his whim that I was detained aboard
in the first place. It is due to his whim that I am still alive. I do
nothing, can do nothing, because I am a slave to this monster, as you are now
a slave to him; because I desire to live, as you will desire to live;
because I cannot fight and overcome him, just as you will not be able to fight
and overcome him."
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She waited for me to go on.
"What remains? Mine is the role of the weak. I remain silent and suffer
ignominy, as you will remain silent and suffer ignominy.
And it is well. It is the best we can do if we wish to live. The battle is
not always to the strong. We have not the strength with which to fight this
man; we must dissimulate, and win, if win we can, by craft. If you will be
advised by me, this is what you will do. I know my position is perilous, and
I may say frankly that yours is even more perilous. We must stand together,
without appearing to do so, in secret alliance. I shall not be able to side
with you openly, and, no matter what indignities may be put upon me, you are
to remain likewise silent. We must provoke no scenes with this man, nor cross
his will. And we must keep smiling faces and be friendly with him no matter
how repulsive it may be."
She brushed her hand across her forehead in a puzzled way, saying, "Still I do
not understand."
"You must do as I say," I interrupted authoritatively, for I saw
Wolf Larsen's gaze wandering toward us from where he paced up and down with
Latimer amidships. "Do as I say, and ere long you will find I am right."
"What shall I do, then?" she asked, detecting the anxious glance I
had shot at the object of our conversation, and impressed, I
flatter myself, with the earnestness of my manner.
"Dispense with all the moral courage you can," I said briskly.
"Don't arouse this man's animosity. Be quite friendly with him, talk with
him, discuss literature and art with him - he is fond of such things. You
will find him an interested listener and no fool.
And for your own sake try to avoid witnessing, as much as you can, the
brutalities of the ship. It will make it easier for you to act your part."
"I am to lie," she said in steady, rebellious tones, "by speech and action to
lie."
Wolf Larsen had separated from Latimer and was coming toward us. I
was desperate.
"Please, please understand me," I said hurriedly, lowering my voice. "All
your experience of men and things is worthless here.
You must begin over again. I know, - I can see it - you have, among other
ways, been used to managing people with your eyes, letting your moral courage
speak out through them, as it were. You have already managed me with your
eyes, commanded me with them.
But don't try it on Wolf Larsen. You could as easily control a lion, while he
would make a mock of you. He would - I have always been proud of the fact
that I discovered him," I said, turning the conversation as Wolf Larsen
stepped on the poop and joined us.
"The editors were afraid of him and the publishers would have none of him.
But I knew, and his genius and my judgment were vindicated when he made that
magnificent hit with his 'Forge.'"
"And it was a newspaper poem," she said glibly.
"It did happen to see the light in a newspaper," I replied, "but not because
the magazine editors had been denied a glimpse at it."
"We were talking of Harris," I said to Wolf Larsen.
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"Oh, yes," he acknowledged. "I remember the 'Forge.' Filled with pretty
sentiments and an almighty faith in human illusions. By the way, Mr. Van
Weyden, you'd better look in on Cooky. He's complaining and restless."
Thus was I bluntly dismissed from the poop, only to find Mugridge sleeping
soundly from the morphine I had given him. I made no haste to return on deck,
and when I did I was gratified to see Miss
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