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It
was
also
serious
,
for
I
learned
that
he
was
capable
of
using
it
,
that
under
all
his
cowardice
there
was
a
courage
of
cowardice
,
like
mine
,
that
would
impel
him
to
do
the
very
thing
his
whole
nature
protested
against
doing
and
was
afraid
of
doing
.
"
Cooky
's
sharpening
his
knife
for
Hump
,
"
was
being
whispered
about
among
the
sailors
,
and
some
of
them
twitted
him
about
it
.
This
he
took
in
good
part
,
and
was
really
pleased
,
nodding
his
head
with
direful
foreknowledge
and
mystery
,
until
George
Leach
,
the
erstwhile
cabin-boy
,
ventured
some
rough
pleasantry
on
the
subject
.
Now
it
happened
that
Leach
was
one
of
the
sailors
told
off
to
douse
Mugridge
after
his
game
of
cards
with
the
captain
.
Leach
had
evidently
done
his
task
with
a
thoroughness
that
Mugridge
had
not
forgiven
,
for
words
followed
and
evil
names
involving
smirched
ancestries
.
Mugridge
menaced
with
the
knife
he
was
sharpening
for
me
.
Leach
laughed
and
hurled
more
of
his
Telegraph
Hill
Billingsgate
,
and
before
either
he
or
I
knew
what
had
happened
,
his
right
arm
had
been
ripped
open
from
elbow
to
wrist
by
a
quick
slash
of
the
knife
.
The
cook
backed
away
,
a
fiendish
expression
on
his
face
,
the
knife
held
before
him
in
a
position
of
defence
.
But
Leach
took
it
quite
calmly
,
though
blood
was
spouting
upon
the
deck
as
generously
as
water
from
a
fountain
.
"
I
'm
goin
'
to
get
you
,
Cooky
,
"
he
said
,
"
and
I
'll
get
you
hard
.
And
I
wo
n't
be
in
no
hurry
about
it
.
You
'll
be
without
that
knife
when
I
come
for
you
.
"
So
saying
,
he
turned
and
walked
quietly
forward
.
Mugridge
's
face
was
livid
with
fear
at
what
he
had
done
and
at
what
he
might
expect
sooner
or
later
from
the
man
he
had
stabbed
.
But
his
demeanour
toward
me
was
more
ferocious
than
ever
.
In
spite
of
his
fear
at
the
reckoning
he
must
expect
to
pay
for
what
he
had
done
,
he
could
see
that
it
had
been
an
object-lesson
to
me
,
and
he
became
more
domineering
and
exultant
.
Also
there
was
a
lust
in
him
,
akin
to
madness
,
which
had
come
with
sight
of
the
blood
he
had
drawn
.
He
was
beginning
to
see
red
in
whatever
direction
he
looked
.
The
psychology
of
it
is
sadly
tangled
,
and
yet
I
could
read
the
workings
of
his
mind
as
clearly
as
though
it
were
a
printed
book
.
Several
days
went
by
,
the
Ghost
still
foaming
down
the
trades
,
and
I
could
swear
I
saw
madness
growing
in
Thomas
Mugridge
's
eyes
.
And
I
confess
that
I
became
afraid
,
very
much
afraid
.
Whet
,
whet
,
whet
,
it
went
all
day
long
.
The
look
in
his
eyes
as
he
felt
the
keen
edge
and
glared
at
me
was
positively
carnivorous
.
I
was
afraid
to
turn
my
shoulder
to
him
,
and
when
I
left
the
galley
I
went
out
backwards
--
to
the
amusement
of
the
sailors
and
hunters
,
who
made
a
point
of
gathering
in
groups
to
witness
my
exit
.
The
strain
was
too
great
.
I
sometimes
thought
my
mind
would
give
way
under
it
--
a
meet
thing
on
this
ship
of
madmen
and
brutes
.
Every
hour
,
every
minute
of
my
existence
was
in
jeopardy
.
I
was
a
human
soul
in
distress
,
and
yet
no
soul
,
fore
or
aft
,
betrayed
sufficient
sympathy
to
come
to
my
aid
.
At
times
I
thought
of
throwing
myself
on
the
mercy
of
Wolf
Larsen
,
but
the
vision
of
the
mocking
devil
in
his
eyes
that
questioned
life
and
sneered
at
it
would
come
strong
upon
me
and
compel
me
to
refrain
.
At
other
times
I
seriously
contemplated
suicide
,
and
the
whole
force
of
my
hopeful
philosophy
was
required
to
keep
me
from
going
over
the
side
in
the
darkness
of
night
.
Several
times
Wolf
Larsen
tried
to
inveigle
me
into
discussion
,
but
I
gave
him
short
answers
and
eluded
him
.
Finally
,
he
commanded
me
to
resume
my
seat
at
the
cabin
table
for
a
time
and
let
the
cook
do
my
work
.
Then
I
spoke
frankly
,
telling
him
what
I
was
enduring
from
Thomas
Mugridge
because
of
the
three
days
of
favouritism
which
had
been
shown
me
.
Wolf
Larsen
regarded
me
with
smiling
eyes
.
"
So
you
're
afraid
,
eh
?
"
he
sneered
.
