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I
stiffen
the
bunt
of
her
sail
.
"
Sometimes
I
think
Wolf
Larsen
mad
,
or
half-mad
at
least
,
what
of
his
strange
moods
and
vagaries
.
At
other
times
I
take
him
for
a
great
man
,
a
genius
who
has
never
arrived
.
And
,
finally
,
I
am
convinced
that
he
is
the
perfect
type
of
the
primitive
man
,
born
a
thousand
years
or
generations
too
late
and
an
anachronism
in
this
culminating
century
of
civilization
.
He
is
certainly
an
individualist
of
the
most
pronounced
type
.
Not
only
that
,
but
he
is
very
lonely
.
There
is
no
congeniality
between
him
and
the
rest
of
the
men
aboard
ship
.
His
tremendous
virility
and
mental
strength
wall
him
apart
.
They
are
more
like
children
to
him
,
even
the
hunters
,
and
as
children
he
treats
them
,
descending
perforce
to
their
level
and
playing
with
them
as
a
man
plays
with
puppies
.
Or
else
he
probes
them
with
the
cruel
hand
of
a
vivisectionist
,
groping
about
in
their
mental
processes
and
examining
their
souls
as
though
to
see
of
what
soul-stuff
is
made
.
I
have
seen
him
a
score
of
times
,
at
table
,
insulting
this
hunter
or
that
,
with
cool
and
level
eyes
and
,
withal
,
a
certain
air
of
interest
,
pondering
their
actions
or
replies
or
petty
rages
with
a
curiosity
almost
laughable
to
me
who
stood
onlooker
and
who
understood
.
Concerning
his
own
rages
,
I
am
convinced
that
they
are
not
real
,
that
they
are
sometimes
experiments
,
but
that
in
the
main
they
are
the
habits
of
a
pose
or
attitude
he
has
seen
fit
to
take
toward
his
fellow-men
.
I
know
,
with
the
possible
exception
of
the
incident
of
the
dead
mate
,
that
I
have
not
seen
him
really
angry
;
nor
do
I
wish
ever
to
see
him
in
a
genuine
rage
,
when
all
the
force
of
him
is
called
into
play
.
While
on
the
question
of
vagaries
,
I
shall
tell
what
befell
Thomas
Mugridge
in
the
cabin
,
and
at
the
same
time
complete
an
incident
upon
which
I
have
already
touched
once
or
twice
.
The
twelve
o'clock
dinner
was
over
,
one
day
,
and
I
had
just
finished
putting
the
cabin
in
order
,
when
Wolf
Larsen
and
Thomas
Mugridge
descended
the
companion
stairs
.
Though
the
cook
had
a
cubby-hole
of
a
state-room
opening
off
from
the
cabin
,
in
the
cabin
itself
he
had
never
dared
to
linger
or
to
be
seen
,
and
he
flitted
to
and
fro
,
once
or
twice
a
day
,
a
timid
spectre
.
"
So
you
know
how
to
play
'
Nap
,
'
"
Wolf
Larsen
was
saying
in
a
pleased
sort
of
voice
.
"
I
might
have
guessed
an
Englishman
would
know
.
I
learned
it
myself
in
English
ships
.
"
Thomas
Mugridge
was
beside
himself
,
a
blithering
imbecile
,
so
pleased
was
he
at
chumming
thus
with
the
captain
.
The
little
airs
he
put
on
and
the
painful
striving
to
assume
the
easy
carriage
of
a
man
born
to
a
dignified
place
in
life
would
have
been
sickening
had
they
not
been
ludicrous
.
He
quite
ignored
my
presence
,
though
I
credited
him
with
being
simply
unable
to
see
me
.
His
pale
,
wishy-washy
eyes
were
swimming
like
lazy
summer
seas
,
though
what
blissful
visions
they
beheld
were
beyond
my
imagination
.
"
Get
the
cards
,
Hump
,
"
Wolf
Larsen
ordered
,
as
they
took
seats
at
the
table
.
"
And
bring
out
the
cigars
and
the
whisky
you
'll
find
in
my
berth
.
"
I
returned
with
the
articles
in
time
to
hear
the
Cockney
hinting
broadly
that
there
was
a
mystery
about
him
,
that
he
might
be
a
gentleman
's
son
gone
wrong
or
something
or
other
;
also
,
that
he
was
a
remittance
man
and
was
paid
to
keep
away
from
England
--
"
p
'
yed
'
ansomely
,
sir
,
"
was
the
way
he
put
it
;
"
p
'
yed
'
ansomely
to
sling
my
'
ook
an
'
keep
slingin
'
it
.
"
