Asoftlightsuffusedhisfaceandhiseyesglistened，asthoughsomewhereinthedeepsofhisbeinghisancestorshadquickenedandstirredwithdimmemoriesoftipsreceivedinformerlives。
"Thankyou，sir，"hesaid，verygratefullyandveryhumblyindeed。
Preciselyinthewaythatthedoorslidback，heslidaside，andIsteppedoutondeck。Iwasstillweakfrommyprolongedimmersion。Apuffofwindcaughtme，andIstaggeredacrossthemovingdecktoacornerofthecabin，towhichIclungforsupport。Theschooner，heeledoverfaroutfromtheperpendicular，wasbowingandplungingintothelongPacificroll。IfshewereheadingsouthwestasJohnsonhadsaid，thewind，then，Icalculated，wasblowingnearlyfromthesouth。Thefogwasgone，andinitsplacethesunsparkledcrisplyonthesurfaceofthewater。Iturnedtotheeast，whereIknewCaliforniamustlie，butcouldseenothingsavelow—lyingfog—banks——thesamefog，doubtless，thathadbroughtaboutthedisastertotheMartinezandplacedmeinmypresentsituation。Tothenorth，andnotfaraway，agroupofnakedrocksthrustabovethesea，ononeofwhichcoulddistinguishalighthouse。Inthesouthwest，andalmostinourcourse，Isawthepyramidalloomofsomevessel’ssails。
Havingcompletedmysurveyofthehorizon，Iturnedtomymoreimmediatesurroundings。MyfirstthoughtwasthatamanwhohadcomethroughacollisionandrubbedshoulderswithdeathmeritedmoreattentionthanIreceived。
Beyondasailoratthewheelwhostaredcuriouslyacrossthetopofthecabin，Iattractednonoticewhatever。
Everybodyseemedinterestedinwhatwasgoingonamidships。There，onahatch，alargemanwaslyingonhisback。Hewasfullyclothed，thoughhisshirtwasrippedopeninfront。Nothingwastobeseenofhischest，however，foritwascoveredwithamassofblackhair，inappearancelikethefurrycoatofadog。Hisfaceandneckwerehiddenbeneathablackbeard，intershotwithgray，whichwouldhavebeenstiffandbushyhaditnotbeenlimpanddraggledanddrippingwithwater。Hiseyeswereclosed，andhewasapparentlyunconscious；buthismouthwaswideopen，hisbreastheavingasthoughfromsuffocationashelaborednoisilyforbreath。A
sailor，fromtimetotimeandquitemethodically，asamatterofroutine，droppedacanvasbucketintotheoceanattheendofarope，hauleditinhandunderhand，andsluiceditscontentsovertheprostrateman。
Pacingbackandforththelengthofthehatchway，andsavagelychewingtheendofacigar，wasthemanwhosecasualglancehadrescuedmefromthesea。Hisheightwasprobablyfivefeetteninches，ortenandahalf；
butmyfirstimpression，orfeeloftheman，wasnotofthis，butofhisstrength。Andyet，whilehewasofmassivebuild，withbroadshouldersanddeepchest，Icouldnotcharacterizehisstrengthasmassive。Itwaswhatmightbetermedasinewy，knottystrength，ofthekindweascribetoleanandwirymen，butwhich，inhim，becauseofhisheavybuild，partookmoreoftheenlargedgorillaorder。Notthatinappearanceheseemedintheleastgorilla—like。WhatIamstrivingtoexpressisthisstrengthitself，moreasathingapartfromhisphysicalsemblance。Itwasastrengthwearewonttoassociatewiththingsprimitive，withwildanimals，andthecreaturesweimagineourtree—dwellingprototypestohavebeen——
astrengthsavage，ferocious，aliveinitself，theessenceoflifeinthatitisthepotencyofmotion，theelementalstuffitselfoutofwhichthemanyformsoflifehavebeenmolded；inshort，thatwhichwrithesinthebodyofasnakewhentheheadiscutoff，andthesnake，asasnake，isdead，orwhichlingersinashapelesslumpofturtle—meatandrecoilsandquiversfromtheprodofafinger。
SuchwastheimpressionofstrengthIgatheredfromthismanwhopacedupanddown。Hewasfirmlyplantedonhislegs；hisfeetstruckthedecksquarelyandwithsurety；everymovementofamuscle，fromtheheaveoftheshoulderstothetighteningofthelipsaboutthecigar，wasdecisive，andseemedtocomeoutofastrengththatwasexcessiveandoverwhelming。
Infact，thoughthisstrengthpervadedeveryactionofhis，itseemedbuttheadvertisementofagreaterstrengththatlurkedwithin，thatlaydormantandnomorethanstirredfromtimetotime，butwhichmightarouse，atanymoment，terribleandcompelling，liketherageofalionorthewrathofastorm。
Thecookstuckhisheadoutofthegalleydoorandgrinnedencouraginglyatme，atthesametimejerkinghisthumbinthedirectionofthemanwhopacedupanddownbythehatchway。ThusIwasgiventounderstandthathewasthecaptain，the"OldMan，"inthecook’svernacular，theindividualwhomImustinterviewandputtothetroubleofsomehowgettingmeashore。
Ihadhalfstartedforward，togetoverwithwhatIwascertainwouldbeastormyfiveminutes，whenamoreviolentsuffocatingparoxysmseizedtheunfortunatepersonwhowaslyingonhisback。Hewrenchedandwrithedaboutconvulsively。Thechin，withthedampblackbeard，pointedhigherintheairasthebackmusclesstiffenedandthechestswelledinanunconsciousandinstinctiveefforttogetmoreair。Underthewhiskers，andallunseen，Iknewthattheskinwastakingonapurplishhue。
Thecaptain，orWolfLarsen，asmencalledhim，ceasedpacingandgazeddownatthedyingman。Sofiercehadthisfinalstrugglebecomethatthesailorpausedintheactofflingingmorewateroverhimandstaredcuriously，thecanvasbucketpartlytiltedanddrippingitscontentstothedeck。
Thedyingmanbeatatattooonthehatchwithhisheels，straightenedouthislegs，andstiffenedinonegreattenseeffort，androlledhisheadfromsidetoside。Thenthemusclesrelaxed，theheadstoppedrolling，andasigh，asofprofoundrelief，floatedupwardfromhislips。Thejawdropped，theupperliplifted，andtworowsoftobacco—discoloredteethappeared。Itseemedasthoughhisfeatureshadfrozenintoadiabolicalgrinattheworldhehadleftandoutwitted。
Thenamostsurprisingthingoccurred。Thecaptainbrokelooseuponthedeadmanlikeathunderclap。Oathsrolledfromhislipsinacontinuousstream。Andtheywerenotnamby—pambyoaths，ormereexpressionsofindecency。
Eachwordwasablasphemy，andthereweremanywords。Theycrispedandcrackledlikeelectricsparks。Ihadneverheardanythinglikeitinmylife，norcouldIhaveconceiveditpossible。Withaturnforliteraryexpressionmyself，andapenchantforforciblefiguresandphrases，Iappreciated，asnootherlistener，daresay，thepeculiarvividnessandstrengthandabsoluteblasphemyofhismetaphors。Thecauseofitall，asnearasI
couldmakeout，wasthattheman，whowasmate，hadgoneonadebauchbeforeleavingSanFrancisco，andthenhadthepoortastetodieatthebeginningofthevoyageandleaveWolfLarsenshort—handed。
Itshouldbeunnecessarytostate，atleasttomyfriends，thatIwasshocked。Oathsandvilelanguageofanysorthadalwaysbeenrepellenttome。Ifeltawiltingsensation，asinkingattheheart，and，Imightjustaswellsay，agiddiness。Tome，deathhadalwaysbeeninvestedwithsolemnityanddignity。Ithadbeenpeacefulinitsoccurrence，sacredinitsceremonial。ButdeathinitsmoresordidandterribleaspectswasathingwithwhichIhadbeenunacquaintedtillnow。AsIsay，whileIappreciatedthepoweroftheterrificdenunciationthatsweptoutofWolfLarsen’smouth，Iwasinexpressiblyshocked。Thescorchingtorrentwasenoughtowitherthefaceofthecorpse。Ishouldnothavebeensurprisedifthewetblackbeardhadfrizzledandcurledandflaredupinsmokeandflame。
Butthedeadmanwasunconcerned。Hecontinuedtogrinwithasardonichumor，withacynicalmockeryanddefiance。Hewasmasterofthesituation。TheSeaWolf：Chapter3CHAPTER3
WolfLarsenceasedswearingassuddenlyashehadbegun。Herelightedhiscigarandglancedaround。Hiseyeschanceduponthecook。
"Well，Cooky？"hebegan，withasuavenessthatwascoldandofthetemperofsteel。
"Yes，sir，"thecookeagerlyinterpolated，withappeasingandapologeticservility。
"Don’tyouthinkyou’vestretchedthatneckofyoursjustaboutenough？
It’sunhealthy，youknow。Themate’sgone，soIcan’taffordtoloseyoutoo。Youmustbevery，verycarefulofyourhealth，Cooky。Understand？"
Hislastword，instrikingcontrastwiththesmoothnessofhispreviousutterance，snappedlikethelashofawhip。Thecookquailedunderit。
"Yes，sir，"wasthemeekreply，astheoffendingheaddisappearedintothegalley。
Atthissweepingrebuke，whichthecookhadonlypointed，therestofthecrewbecameuninterestedandfelltoworkatonetaskoranother。A
numberofmen，however，whowereloungingaboutacompanionwaybetweenthegalleyandthehatch，andwhodidnotseemtobesailors，continuedtalkinginlowtoneswithoneanother。These，afterwardlearned，werethehunters，themenwhoshottheseals，andaverysuperiorbreedtocommonsailor—folk。
"Johansen！"WolfLarsencalledout。Asailorsteppedforwardobediently。
"Getyourpalmandneedleandsewthebeggarup。You’llfindsomeoldcanvasinthesail—locker。Makeitdo。"
"What’llIputonhisfeet，sir？"themanasked，afterthecustomary"Ay，ay，sir。"
"We’llseetothat，"WolfLarsenanswered，andelevatedhisvoiceinacallof"Cooky！"
ThomasMugridgepoppedoutofhisgalleylikeajack—in—the—box。
"Gobelowandfillasackwithcoal。"
"AnyofyoufellowsgotaBibleorprayer—book？"wasthecaptain’snextdemand，thistimeofthehuntersloungingaboutthecompanionway。
Theyshooktheirheads，andsomeonemadeajocularremarkwhichIdidnotcatch，butwhichraisedagenerallaugh。
WolfLarsenmadethesamedemandofthesailors。Biblesandprayer—booksseemedscarcearticles，butoneofthemenvolunteeredtopursuethequestamongstthewatchbelow，returninginaminutewiththeinformationthattherewasnone。
Thecaptainshruggedhisshoulders。"Thenwe’lldrophimoverwithoutanypalavering，unlessourclerical—lookingcast—awayhastheburialserviceatseabyheart。"
Bythistimehehadswungfullyaroundandwasfacingme。
"You’reapreacher，aren’tyou？"heasked。
Thehunters，——thereweresixofthem，——toaman，turnedandregardedme。Iwaspainfullyawareofmylikenesstoascarecrow。Alaughwentupatmyappearance，——alaughthatwasnotlessenedorsoftenedbythedeadmanstretchedandgrinningonthedeckbeforeus；alaughthatwasasroughandharshandfrankastheseaitself；thataroseoutofcoarsefeelingsandbluntedsensibilities，fromnaturesthatknewneithercourtesynorgentleness。
WolfLarsendidnotlaugh，thoughhisgrayeyeslightedwithaslightglintofamusement；andinthatmoment，havingsteppedforwardquiteclosetohim，Ireceivedmyfirstimpressionofthemanhimself，ofthemanasapartfromhisbodyandfromthetorrentofblasphemyhadheardhimspewforth。Theface，withlargefeaturesandstronglines，ofthesquareorder，yetwellfilledout，wasapparentlymassiveatfirstsight；butagain，aswiththebody，themassivenessseemedtovanishandaconvictiontogrowofatremendousandexcessivementalorspiritualstrengththatlaybehind，sleepinginthedeepsofhisbeing。Thejaw，thechin，thebrowrisingtoagoodlyheightandswellingheavilyabovetheeyes，——these，whilestronginthemselves，unusuallystrong，seemedtospeakanimmensevigororvirilityofspiritthatlaybehindandbeyondandoutofsight。
Therewasnosoundingsuchaspirit，nomeasuring，nodeterminingofmetesandbounds，norneatlyclassifyinginsomepigeonholewithothersofsimilartype。
Theeyes——anditwasmydestinytoknowthemwell——werelargeandhandsome，wideapartasthetrueartist’sarewide，shelteringunderaheavybrowandarchedoverbythickblackeyebrows。Theeyesthemselveswereofthatbafflingproteangraywhichisnevertwicethesame；whichrunsthroughmanyshadesandcoloringslikeintershotsilkinsunshine；
whichisgray，darkandlight，andgreenishgray，andsometimesoftheclearazureofthedeepsea。Theywereeyesthatmaskedthesoulwithathousandguises，andthatsometimesopened，atraremoments，andallowedittorushupasthoughitwereabouttofareforthnakedlyintotheworldonsomewonderfuladventure，——eyesthatcouldbroodwiththehopelesssombrenessofleadenskies；thatcouldsnapandcracklepointsoffirelikethosewhichsparklefromawhirlingsword；thatcouldgrowchillasanarcticlandscape，andyetagain，thatcouldwarmandsoftenandbealla—dancewithlove—lights，intenseandmasculine，luringandcompelling，whichatthesametimefascinateanddominatewomentilltheysurrenderinagladnessofjoyandofreliefandsacrifice。
Buttoreturn。Itoldhimthat，unhappilyfortheburialservice，I
wasnotapreacher，whenhesharplydemanded：
"Whatdoyoudoforaliving？"
IconfessIhadneverhadsuchaquestionaskedmebefore，norhadI
evercanvassedit。Iwasquitetakenaback，andbeforeIcouldfindmyselfhadsillilystammered，"Iamagentleman。"
Hislipcurledinaswiftsneer。
"Ihaveworked，Idowork，"Icriedimpetuously，asthoughheweremyjudgeandIrequiredvindication，andatthesametimeverymuchawareofmyarrantidiocyindiscussingthesubjectatall。
"Foryourliving？"
TherewassomethingsoimperativeandmasterfulabouthimthatIwasquitebesidemyself——"rattled，"asFurusethwouldhavetermedit，likeaquakingchildbeforeasternschoolmaster。
"Whofeedsyou？"washisnextquestion。
"Ihaveanincome，"Iansweredstoutly，andcouldhavebittenmytonguethenextinstant。"Allofwhich，youwillpardonmyobserving，hasnothingwhatsoevertodowithwhatIwishtoseeyouabout。"
Buthedisregardedmyprotest。
"Whoearnedit？Eh？Ithoughtso。Yourfather。Youstandondeadmen’slegs。You’veneverhadanyofyourown。Youcouldn’twalkalonebetweentwosunrisesandhustlethemeatforyourbellyforthreemeals。Letmeseeyourhand。"
Histremendous，dormantstrengthmusthavestirred，swiftlyandaccurately，orImusthavesleptamoment，forbeforeIknewithehadsteppedtwopacesforward，grippedmyrighthandinhis，andhelditupforinspection。
Itriedtowithdrawit，buthisfingerstightened，withoutvisibleeffort，tillIthoughtminewouldbecrushed。Itishardtomaintainone’sdignityundersuchcircumstances。Icouldnotsquirmorstrugglelikeaschoolboy。
NorcouldIattacksuchacreaturewhohadbuttotwistmyarmtobreakit。Nothingremainedbuttostandstillandaccepttheindignity。Ihadtimetonoticethatthepocketsofthedeadmanhadbeenemptiedonthedeck，andthathisbodyandhisgrinhadbeenwrappedfromviewincanvas，thefoldsofwhichthesailor，Johansen，wassewingtogetherwithcoarsewhitetwine，shovingtheneedlethroughwithaleathercontrivancefittedonthepalmofhishand。
WolfLarsendroppedmyhandwithaflirtofdisdain。
"Deadmen’shandshavekeptitsoft。Goodforlittleelsethandish—washingandscullionwork。"
"Iwishtobeputashore，"Isaidfirmly，forInowhadmyselfincontrol。
"Ishallpayyouwhateveryoujudgeyourdelayandtroubletobeworth。"
Helookedatmecuriously。Mockeryshoneinhiseyes。
"Ihaveacounterpropositiontomake，andforthegoodofyoursoul。
Mymate’sgone，andthere’llbealotofpromotion。Asailorcomesafttotakemate’splace，cabin—boygoesfor’ardtotakesailor’splace，andyoutakethecabin—boy’splace，signthearticlesforthecruise，twentydollarspermonthandfound。Nowwhatdoyousay？Andmindyou，it’sforyourownsoul’ssake。Itwillbethemakingofyou。Youmightlearnintimetostandonyourownlegsandperhapstotoddlealongabit。"
ButItooknonotice。ThesailsofthevesselIhadseenofftothesouthwesthadgrownlargerandplainer。Theywereofthesameschooner—rigastheGhost，thoughthehullitself，Icouldsee，wassmaller。
Shewasaprettysight，leapingandflyingtowardus，andevidentlyboundtopassatcloserange。Thewindhadbeenmomentarilyincreasing，andthesun，afterafewangrygleams，haddisappeared。Theseahadturnedadullleadengrayandgrownrougher，andwasnowtossingfoamingwhitecapstothesky。Weweretravellingfasterandheeledfartherover。Once，inagust，theraildippedunderthesea，andthedecksonthatsidewereforthemomentawashwithwaterthatmadeacoupleofthehuntershastilylifttheirfeet。
"Thatvesselwillsoonbepassingus，"Isaid，afteramoment’spause。
"Assheisgoingintheoppositedirection，sheisveryprobablyboundforSanFrancisco。"
"Veryprobably，"wasWolfLarsen’sanswer，asheturnedpartlyawayfrommeandcriedout，"Cooky！Oh，Cooky！"
TheCockneypoppedoutofthegalley。
"Where’sthatboy？TellhimIwanthim。"
"Yes，sir；"andThomasMugridgefledswiftlyaftanddisappeareddownanothercompanionwaynearthewheel。Amomentlaterheemerged，aheavy—setyoungfellowofeighteenornineteen，withaglowering，villanouscountenance，trailingathisheels。
"’Ere’eis，sir，"thecooksaid。
ButWolfLarsenignoredthatworthy，turningatoncetothecabin—boy。
"What’syourname，boy？"
"GeorgeLeach，sir，"camethesullenanswer，andtheboy’sbearingshowedclearlythathedivinedthereasonforwhichhehadbeensummoned。
"NotanIrishname，"thecaptainsnappedsharply。"O’TooleorMcCarthywouldsuityourmugadamnsightbetter。Unless，verylikely，there’sanIrishmaninyourmother’swoodpile。"
Isawtheyoungfellow’shandsclenchattheinsult，andthebloodcrawlscarletuphisneck。
"Butletthatgo，"WolfLarsencontinued。"Youmayhaveverygoodreasonsforforgettingyourname，andI’lllikeyounonetheworseforitaslongasyoutoethemark。TelegraphHill，ofcourse，isyourportofentry。
Itsticksoutalloveryourmug。Toughastheymakethemandtwiceasnasty。
Iknowthekind。Well，youcanmakeupyourmindtohaveittakenoutofyouonthiscraft。Understand？Whoshippedyou，anyway？"
"McCreadyandSwanson。"
"Sir！"WolfLarsenthundered。
"McCreadyandSwanson，sir，"theboycorrected，hiseyesburningwithabitterlight。
"Whogottheadvancemoney？"
"Theydid，sir。"
"Ithoughtasmuch。Anddamnedgladyouweretoletthemhaveit。Couldn’tmakeyourselfscarcetooquick，withseveralgentlemenyoumayhaveheardoflookingforyou。"
Theboymetamorphosedintoasavageontheinstant。Hisbodybunchedtogetherasthoughforaspring，andhisfacebecameasaninfuriatedbeast’sashesnarled，"It’sa——"
"Awhat？"WolfLarsenasked，apeculiarsoftnessinhisvoice，asthoughhewereoverwhelminglycurioustoheartheunspokenword。
Theboyhesitated，thenmasteredhistemper。"Nothin’，sir。takeitback。"
"AndyouhaveshownmeIwasright。"Thiswithagratifiedsmile。"Howoldareyou？"
"Justturnedsixteen，sir。"
"Alie。You’llneverseeeighteenagain。Bigforyourageatthat，withmuscleslikeahorse。Packupyourkitandgofor’ardintothefo’c’sle。
You’reaboat—pullernow。You’repromoted；see？"
Withoutwaitingfortheboy’sacceptance，thecaptainturnedtothesailorwhohadjustfinishedthegrewsometaskofsewingupthecorpse。
"Johansen，doyouknowanythingaboutnavigation？"
"No，sir。"
"Well，nevermind；you’rematejustthesame。Getyourtrapsaftintothemate’sberth。"
"Ay，ay，sir，"wasthecheeryresponse，asJohansenstartedforward。
Inthemeantimetheerstwhilecabin—boyhadnotmoved。
"Whatareyouwaitingfor？"WolfLarsendemanded。
"Ididn’tsignforboat—puller，sir，"wasthereply。"Isignedforcabin—boy。
An’Idon’twantnoboat—pullin’inmine。"
"Packupandgofor’ard。"
ThistimeWolfLarsen’scommandwasthrillinglyimperative。Theboygloweredsullenly，butrefusedtomove。
ThencameanotherstirringofWolfLarsen’stremendousstrength。Itwasutterlyunexpected，anditwasoveranddonewithbetweentheticksoftwoseconds。Hehadsprungfullysixfeetacrossthedeckanddrivenhisfistintotheother’sstomach。Atthesamemoment，asthoughIhadbeenstruckmyself，Ifeltasickeningshockinthepitofmystomach。
Iinstancethistoshowthesensitivenessofmynervousorganizationatthetime，andhowunusedIwastospectaclesofbrutality。Thecabin—boy——andheweighedonehundredandsixty—fiveattheveryleast——crumpledup。Hisbodywrappedlimplyaboutthefistlikeawetragaboutastick。
Heliftedintotheair，describedashortcurve，andstruckthedeckalongsidethecorpseonhisheadandshoulders，wherehelayandwrithedaboutinagony。
"Well？"Larsenaskedofme。"Haveyoumadeupyourmind？"
Ihadglancedoccasionallyattheapproachingschooner，anditwasnowalmostabreastofusandnotmorethanacoupleofhundredyardsaway。
Itwasaverytrimandneatlittlecraft。Icouldseealarge，blacknumberononeofitssails，andIhadseenpicturesofpilot—boats。
"Whatvesselisthat？"Iasked。
"Thepilot—boatLadyMine，"WolfLarsenansweredgrimly。"GotridofherpilotsandrunningintoSanFrancisco。She’llbethereinfiveorsixhourswiththiswind。"
"Willyoupleasesignalit，then，sothatImaybeputashore。"
"Sorry，butI’velostthesignalbookoverboard，"heremarked，andthegroupofhuntersgrinned。
Idebatedamoment，lookinghimsquarelyintheeyes。Ihadseenthefrightfultreatmentofthecabin—boy，andknewthatIshouldveryprobablyreceivethesame，ifnotworse。AsIsay，Idebatedwithmyself，andthenIdidwhatIconsiderthebravestactofmylife。Irantotheside，wavingmyarmsandshouting：
"LadyMineahoy！Takemeashore！Athousanddollarsifyoutakemeashore！"
Iwaited，watchingtwomenwhostoodbythewheel，oneofthemsteering。
Theotherwasliftingamegaphonetohislips。Ididnotturnmyhead，thoughIexpectedeverymomentakillingblowfromthehumanbrutebehindme。Atlast，afterwhatseemedcenturies，unablelongertostandthestrain，Ilookedaround。Hehadnotmoved。Hewasstandinginthesameposition，swayingeasilytotherolloftheshipandlightingafreshcigar。
"Whatisthematter？Anythingwrong？"
ThiswasthecryfromtheLadyMine。
"Yes！"Ishouted，atthetopofmylungs。"Lifeordeath！Onethousanddollarsifyoutakemeashore！"
"Toomuch’Friscotanglefootforthehealthofmycrew！"WolfLarsenshoutedafter。"Thisone，"——indicatingmewithhisthumb，——"fanciessea—serpentsandmonkeysjustnow！"
ThemanontheLadyMinelaughedbackthroughthemegaphone。
Thepilot—boatplungedpast。
"Givehimhellforme！"cameafinalcry，andthetwomenwavedtheirarmsinfarewell。
Ileaneddespairinglyovertherail，watchingthetrimlittleschoonerswiftlyincreasingthebleaksweepofoceanbetweenus。AndshewouldprobablybeinSanFranciscoinfiveorsixhours！Myheadseemedbursting。Therewasanacheinmythroatasthoughmyheartwereupinit。Acurlingwavestruckthesideandsplashedsaltsprayonmylips。Thewindpuffedstrongly，andtheGhostheeledfarover，buryingherleerail。Icouldhearthewaterrushingdownuponthedeck。
WhenIturnedaround，amomentlater，Isawthecabin—boystaggeringtohisfeet。Hisfacewasghastlywhite，twitchingwithsuppressedpain。
Helookedverysick。