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But
on
the
forecastle-head
we
found
three
sailors
asleep
.
He
turned
them
over
and
looked
at
their
faces
.
They
composed
the
watch
on
deck
,
and
it
was
the
ship
's
custom
,
in
good
weather
,
to
let
the
watch
sleep
with
the
exception
of
the
officer
,
the
helmsman
,
and
the
look-out
.
"
Who
's
look-out
?
"
he
demanded
.
"
Me
,
sir
,
"
answered
Holyoak
,
one
of
the
deep-water
sailors
,
a
slight
tremor
in
his
voice
.
"
I
winked
off
just
this
very
minute
,
sir
.
I
'm
sorry
,
sir
.
It
wo
n't
happen
again
.
"
"
Did
you
hear
or
see
anything
on
deck
?
"
"
No
,
sir
,
I
--
"
But
Wolf
Larsen
had
turned
away
with
a
snort
of
disgust
,
leaving
the
sailor
rubbing
his
eyes
with
surprise
at
having
been
let
of
so
easily
.
"
Softly
,
now
,
"
Wolf
Larsen
warned
me
in
a
whisper
,
as
he
doubled
his
body
into
the
forecastle
scuttle
and
prepared
to
descend
.
I
followed
with
a
quaking
heart
.
What
was
to
happen
I
knew
no
more
than
did
I
know
what
had
happened
.
But
blood
had
been
shed
,
and
it
was
through
no
whim
of
Wolf
Larsen
that
he
had
gone
over
the
side
with
his
scalp
laid
open
.
Besides
,
Johansen
was
missing
.
It
was
my
first
descent
into
the
forecastle
,
and
I
shall
not
soon
forget
my
impression
of
it
,
caught
as
I
stood
on
my
feet
at
the
bottom
of
the
ladder
.
Built
directly
in
the
eyes
of
the
schooner
,
it
was
of
the
shape
of
a
triangle
,
along
the
three
sides
of
which
stood
the
bunks
,
in
double-tier
,
twelve
of
them
.
It
was
no
larger
than
a
hall
bedroom
in
Grub
Street
,
and
yet
twelve
men
were
herded
into
it
to
eat
and
sleep
and
carry
on
all
the
functions
of
living
.
My
bedroom
at
home
was
not
large
,
yet
it
could
have
contained
a
dozen
similar
forecastles
,
and
taking
into
consideration
the
height
of
the
ceiling
,
a
score
at
least
.
