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Thomas
Mugridge
popped
out
of
his
galley
like
a
jack-in-the-box
.
"
Go
below
and
fill
a
sack
with
coal
.
"
"
Any
of
you
fellows
got
a
Bible
or
Prayer-book
?
"
was
the
captain
's
next
demand
,
this
time
of
the
hunters
lounging
about
the
companion-way
.
They
shook
their
heads
,
and
some
one
made
a
jocular
remark
which
I
did
not
catch
,
but
which
raised
a
general
laugh
.
Wolf
Larsen
made
the
same
demand
of
the
sailors
.
Bibles
and
Prayer-books
seemed
scarce
articles
,
but
one
of
the
men
volunteered
to
pursue
the
quest
amongst
the
watch
below
,
returning
in
a
minute
with
the
information
that
there
was
none
.
The
captain
shrugged
his
shoulders
.
"
Then
we
'll
drop
him
over
without
any
palavering
,
unless
our
clerical-looking
castaway
has
the
burial
service
at
sea
by
heart
.
"
By
this
time
he
had
swung
fully
around
and
was
facing
me
.
"
You
're
a
preacher
,
are
n't
you
?
"
he
asked
.
The
hunters
--
there
were
six
of
them
--
to
a
man
,
turned
and
regarded
me
.
I
was
painfully
aware
of
my
likeness
to
a
scarecrow
.
A
laugh
went
up
at
my
appearance
--
a
laugh
that
was
not
lessened
or
softened
by
the
dead
man
stretched
and
grinning
on
the
deck
before
us
;
a
laugh
that
was
as
rough
and
harsh
and
frank
as
the
sea
itself
;
that
arose
out
of
coarse
feelings
and
blunted
sensibilities
,
from
natures
that
knew
neither
courtesy
nor
gentleness
.
Wolf
Larsen
did
not
laugh
,
though
his
grey
eyes
lighted
with
a
slight
glint
of
amusement
;
and
in
that
moment
,
having
stepped
forward
quite
close
to
him
,
I
received
my
first
impression
of
the
man
himself
,
of
the
man
as
apart
from
his
body
,
and
from
the
torrent
of
blasphemy
I
had
heard
him
spew
forth
.
The
face
,
with
large
features
and
strong
lines
,
of
the
square
order
,
yet
well
filled
out
,
was
apparently
massive
at
first
sight
;
but
again
,
as
with
the
body
,
the
massiveness
seemed
to
vanish
,
and
a
conviction
to
grow
of
a
tremendous
and
excessive
mental
or
spiritual
strength
that
lay
behind
,
sleeping
in
the
deeps
of
his
being
.
The
jaw
,
the
chin
,
the
brow
rising
to
a
goodly
height
and
swelling
heavily
above
the
eyes
--
these
,
while
strong
in
themselves
,
unusually
strong
,
seemed
to
speak
an
immense
vigour
or
virility
of
spirit
that
lay
behind
and
beyond
and
out
of
sight
.
There
was
no
sounding
such
a
spirit
,
no
measuring
,
no
determining
of
metes
and
bounds
,
nor
neatly
classifying
in
some
pigeon-hole
with
others
of
similar
type
.
The
eyes
--
and
it
was
my
destiny
to
know
them
well
--
were
large
and
handsome
,
wide
apart
as
the
true
artist
's
are
wide
,
sheltering
under
a
heavy
brow
and
arched
over
by
thick
black
eyebrows
.
The
eyes
themselves
were
of
that
baffling
protean
grey
which
is
never
twice
the
same
;
which
runs
through
many
shades
and
colourings
like
intershot
silk
in
sunshine
;
which
is
grey
,
dark
and
light
,
and
greenish-grey
,
and
sometimes
of
the
clear
azure
of
the
deep
sea
.
