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Then
they
were
gone
astern
.
The
spritsail
filled
with
the
wind
,
suddenly
,
careening
the
frail
open
craft
till
it
seemed
it
would
surely
capsize
.
A
whitecap
foamed
above
it
and
broke
across
in
a
snow-white
smother
.
Then
the
boat
emerged
,
half
swamped
,
Leach
flinging
the
water
out
and
Johnson
clinging
to
the
steering-oar
,
his
face
white
and
anxious
.
Wolf
Larsen
barked
a
short
laugh
in
my
ear
and
strode
away
to
the
weather
side
of
the
poop
.
I
expected
him
to
give
orders
for
the
Ghost
to
heave
to
,
but
she
kept
on
her
course
and
he
made
no
sign
.
Louis
stood
imperturbably
at
the
wheel
,
but
I
noticed
the
grouped
sailors
forward
turning
troubled
faces
in
our
direction
.
Still
the
Ghost
tore
along
,
till
the
boat
dwindled
to
a
speck
,
when
Wolf
Larsen
's
voice
rang
out
in
command
and
he
went
about
on
the
starboard
tack
.
Back
we
held
,
two
miles
and
more
to
windward
of
the
struggling
cockle-shell
,
when
the
flying
jib
was
run
down
and
the
schooner
hove
to
.
The
sealing
boats
are
not
made
for
windward
work
.
Their
hope
lies
in
keeping
a
weather
position
so
that
they
may
run
before
the
wind
for
the
schooner
when
it
breezes
up
.
But
in
all
that
wild
waste
there
was
no
refuge
for
Leach
and
Johnson
save
on
the
Ghost
,
and
they
resolutely
began
the
windward
beat
.
It
was
slow
work
in
the
heavy
sea
that
was
running
.
At
any
moment
they
were
liable
to
be
overwhelmed
by
the
hissing
combers
.
Time
and
again
and
countless
times
we
watched
the
boat
luff
into
the
big
whitecaps
,
lose
headway
,
and
be
flung
back
like
a
cork
.
Johnson
was
a
splendid
seaman
,
and
he
knew
as
much
about
small
boats
as
he
did
about
ships
.
At
the
end
of
an
hour
and
a
half
he
was
nearly
alongside
,
standing
past
our
stern
on
the
last
leg
out
,
aiming
to
fetch
us
on
the
next
leg
back
.
"
So
you
've
changed
your
mind
?
"
I
heard
Wolf
Larsen
mutter
,
half
to
himself
,
half
to
them
as
though
they
could
hear
.
"
You
want
to
come
aboard
,
eh
?
Well
,
then
,
just
keep
a-coming
.
"
"
Hard
up
with
that
helm
!
"
he
commanded
Oofty
--
Oofty
,
the
Kanaka
,
who
had
in
the
meantime
relieved
Louis
at
the
wheel
.
Command
followed
command
.
As
the
schooner
paid
off
,
the
fore
--
and
main-sheets
were
slacked
away
for
fair
wind
.
And
before
the
wind
we
were
,
and
leaping
,
when
Johnson
,
easing
his
sheet
at
imminent
peril
,
cut
across
our
wake
a
hundred
feet
away
.
Again
Wolf
Larsen
laughed
,
at
the
same
time
beckoning
them
with
his
arm
to
follow
.
It
was
evidently
his
intention
to
play
with
them
--
a
lesson
,
I
took
it
,
in
lieu
of
a
beating
,
though
a
dangerous
lesson
,
for
the
frail
craft
stood
in
momentary
danger
of
being
overwhelmed
.
Johnson
squared
away
promptly
and
ran
after
us
.
There
was
nothing
else
for
him
to
do
.
Death
stalked
everywhere
,
and
it
was
only
a
matter
of
time
when
some
one
of
those
many
huge
seas
would
fall
upon
the
boat
,
roll
over
it
,
and
pass
on
.
