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"
You
bet
,
"
was
the
reply
.
"
Hump
runs
the
galley
from
now
on
,
and
Cooky
pulls
in
his
horns
.
"
Mugridge
heard
and
shot
a
swift
glance
at
me
,
but
I
gave
no
sign
that
the
conversation
had
reached
me
.
I
had
not
thought
my
victory
was
so
far-reaching
and
complete
,
but
I
resolved
to
let
go
nothing
I
had
gained
.
As
the
days
went
by
,
Smoke
's
prophecy
was
verified
.
The
Cockney
became
more
humble
and
slavish
to
me
than
even
to
Wolf
Larsen
.
I
mistered
him
and
sirred
him
no
longer
,
washed
no
more
greasy
pots
,
and
peeled
no
more
potatoes
.
I
did
my
own
work
,
and
my
own
work
only
,
and
when
and
in
what
fashion
I
saw
fit
.
Also
I
carried
the
dirk
in
a
sheath
at
my
hip
,
sailor-fashion
,
and
maintained
toward
Thomas
Mugridge
a
constant
attitude
which
was
composed
of
equal
parts
of
domineering
,
insult
,
and
contempt
.
My
intimacy
with
Wolf
Larsen
increases
--
if
by
intimacy
may
be
denoted
those
relations
which
exist
between
master
and
man
,
or
,
better
yet
,
between
king
and
jester
.
I
am
to
him
no
more
than
a
toy
,
and
he
values
me
no
more
than
a
child
values
a
toy
.
My
function
is
to
amuse
,
and
so
long
as
I
amuse
all
goes
well
;
but
let
him
become
bored
,
or
let
him
have
one
of
his
black
moods
come
upon
him
,
and
at
once
I
am
relegated
from
cabin
table
to
galley
,
while
,
at
the
same
time
,
I
am
fortunate
to
escape
with
my
life
and
a
whole
body
.
The
loneliness
of
the
man
is
slowly
being
borne
in
upon
me
.
There
is
not
a
man
aboard
but
hates
or
fears
him
,
nor
is
there
a
man
whom
he
does
not
despise
.
He
seems
consuming
with
the
tremendous
power
that
is
in
him
and
that
seems
never
to
have
found
adequate
expression
in
works
.
He
is
as
Lucifer
would
be
,
were
that
proud
spirit
banished
to
a
society
of
soulless
,
Tomlinsonian
ghosts
.
This
loneliness
is
bad
enough
in
itself
,
but
,
to
make
it
worse
,
he
is
oppressed
by
the
primal
melancholy
of
the
race
.
Knowing
him
,
I
review
the
old
Scandinavian
myths
with
clearer
understanding
.
The
white-skinned
,
fair-haired
savages
who
created
that
terrible
pantheon
were
of
the
same
fibre
as
he
.
The
frivolity
of
the
laughter-loving
Latins
is
no
part
of
him
.
When
he
laughs
it
is
from
a
humour
that
is
nothing
else
than
ferocious
.
But
he
laughs
rarely
;
he
is
too
often
sad
.
And
it
is
a
sadness
as
deep-reaching
as
the
roots
of
the
race
.
It
is
the
race
heritage
,
the
sadness
which
has
made
the
race
sober-minded
,
clean-lived
and
fanatically
moral
,
and
which
,
in
this
latter
connection
,
has
culminated
among
the
English
in
the
Reformed
Church
and
Mrs.
Grundy
.
In
point
of
fact
,
the
chief
vent
to
this
primal
melancholy
has
been
religion
in
its
more
agonizing
forms
.
But
the
compensations
of
such
religion
are
denied
Wolf
Larsen
.
His
brutal
materialism
will
not
permit
it
.
So
,
when
his
blue
moods
come
on
,
nothing
remains
for
him
,
but
to
be
devilish
.
Were
he
not
so
terrible
a
man
,
I
could
sometimes
feel
sorry
for
him
,
as
instance
three
mornings
ago
,
when
I
went
into
his
stateroom
to
fill
his
water-bottle
and
came
unexpectedly
upon
him
.
He
did
not
see
me
.
His
head
was
buried
in
his
hands
,
and
his
shoulders
were
heaving
convulsively
as
with
sobs
.
He
seemed
torn
by
some
mighty
grief
.
As
I
softly
withdrew
I
could
hear
him
groaning
,
"
God
!
God
!
God
!
"
Not
that
he
was
calling
upon
God
;
it
was
a
mere
expletive
,
but
it
came
from
his
soul
.
At
dinner
he
asked
the
hunters
for
a
remedy
for
headache
,
and
by
evening
,
strong
man
that
he
was
,
he
was
half-blind
and
reeling
about
the
cabin
.
"
I
've
never
been
sick
in
my
life
,
Hump
,
"
he
said
,
as
I
guided
him
to
his
room
.
"
Nor
did
I
ever
have
a
headache
except
the
time
my
head
was
healing
after
having
been
laid
open
for
six
inches
by
a
capstan-bar
.
"
For
three
days
this
blinding
headache
lasted
,
and
he
suffered
as
wild
animals
suffer
,
as
it
seemed
the
way
on
ship
to
suffer
,
without
plaint
,
without
sympathy
,
utterly
alone
.
