. , , , , , . , . "One of his attacks," I whispered to Maud. -- ! -- . She nodded her head; and I could see sympathy warm in eyes. , . We went up to him, but he seemed unconscious, breathing spasmodically. She took charge of him, lifting his head to keep the blood out of it and despatching me to the cabin for a pillow. I also brought blankets, and we made him comfortable. I took his pulse. It beat steadily and strong, and was quite normal. This puzzled me. I became suspicious. . , , , . -- , , . , . . -- , , . . "What if he should be feigning this?" I asked, still holding his wrist. -- , ? -- , . Maud shook her head, and there was reproof in her eyes. But just then the wrist I held leaped from my hand, and the hand clasped like a steel trap about my wrist. I cried aloud in awful fear, a wild inarticulate cry; and I caught one glimpse of his face, malignant and triumphant, as his other hand compassed my body and I was drawn down to him in a terrible grip. . - . . , , -- . My wrist was released, but his other arm, passed around my back, held both my arms so that I could not move. His free hand went to my throat, and in that moment I knew the bitterest foretaste of death earned by one's own idiocy. Why had I trusted myself within reach of those terrible arms? I could feel other hands at my throat. They were Maud's hands, striving vainly to tear loose the hand that was throttling me. She gave it up, and I heard her scream in a way that cut me to the soul, for it was a woman's scream of fear and heart-breaking despair. I had heard it before, during the sinking of the Martinez. , , , . , -- . ? -- . , , , . , . , "". My face was against his chest and I could not see, but I heard Maud turn and run swiftly away along the deck. Everything was happening quickly. I had not yet had a glimmering of unconsciousness, and it seemed that an interminable period of time was lapsing before I heard her feet flying back. And just then I felt the whole man sink under me. The breath was leaving his lungs and his chest was collapsing under my weight. Whether it was merely the expelled breath, or his consciousness of his growing impotence, I know not, but his throat vibrated with a deep groan. The hand at my throat relaxed. I breathed. It fluttered and tightened again. But even his tremendous will could not overcome the dissolution that assailed it. That will of his was breaking down. He was fainting. , , , - . , , . , , , , . , . ; , -- , , , . . . . . . Maud's footsteps were very near as his hand fluttered for the last time and my throat was released. I rolled off and over to the deck on my back, gasping and blinking in the sunshine. Maud was pale but composed, - my eyes had gone instantly to her face, - and she was looking at me with mingled alarm and relief. A heavy seal-club in her hand caught my eyes, and at that moment she followed my gaze down to it. The club dropped from her hand as though it had suddenly stung her, and at the same moment my heart surged with a great joy. Truly she was my woman, my mate-woman, fighting with me and for me as the mate of a caveman would have fought, all the primitive in her aroused, forgetful of her culture, hard under the softening civilization of the only life she had ever known. . . . , , . ; , . . . , , . -- , , ! , , , , , . "Dear woman!" I cried, scrambling to my feet. -- ! -- , . The next moment she was in my arms, weeping convulsively on my shoulder while I clasped her close. I looked down at the brown glory of her hair, glinting gems in the sunshine far more precious to me than those in the treasure-chests of kings. And I bent my head and kissed her hair softly, so softly that she did not know. , . , ; , , . , , . Then sober thought came to me. After all, she was only a woman, crying her relief, now that the danger was past, in the arms of her protector or of the one who had been endangered. Had I been father or brother, the situation would have been in nowise different. Besides, time and place were not meet, and I wished to earn a better right to declare my love. So once again I softly kissed her hair as I felt her receding from my clasp. . , , , , , , . , . , . , , . "It was a real attack this time," I said: "another shock like the one that made him blind. He feigned at first, and in doing so brought it on." -- , -- . -- . , , . Maud was already rearranging his pillow. . "No," I said, "not yet. Now that I have him helpless, helpless he shall remain. From this day we live in the cabin. Wolf Larsen shall live in the steerage." -- , -- . -- -- . -, . I caught him under the shoulders and dragged him to the companion- way. At my direction Maud fetched a rope. Placing this under his shoulders, I balanced him across the threshold and lowered him down the steps to the floor. I could not lift him directly into a bunk, but with Maud's help I lifted first his shoulders and head, then his body, balanced him across the edge, and rolled him into a lower bunk. , . , . , , . But this was not to be all. I recollected the handcuffs in his state-room, which he preferred to use on sailors instead of the ancient and clumsy ship irons. So, when we left him, he lay handcuffed hand and foot. For the first time in many days I breathed freely. I felt strangely light as I came on deck, as though a weight had been lifted off my shoulders. I felt, also, that Maud and I had drawn more closely together. And I wondered if she, too, felt it, as we walked along the deck side by side to where the stalled foremast hung in the shears. . , , , . . , , . , -- . , , , , -, , , . CHAPTER XXXVII  XXXVII At once we moved aboard the Ghost, occupying our old state-rooms and cooking in the galley. The imprisonment of Wolf Larsen had happened most opportunely, for what must have been the Indian summer of this high latitude was gone and drizzling stormy weather had set in. We were very comfortable, and the inadequate shears, with the foremast suspended from them, gave a business-like air to the schooner and a promise of departure. . . . , , , , . , - . And now that we had Wolf Larsen in irons, how little did we need it! Like his first attack, his second had been accompanied by serious disablement. Maud made the discovery in the afternoon while trying to give him nourishment. He had shown signs of consciousness, and she had spoken to him, eliciting no response. He was lying on his left side at the time, and in evident pain. With a restless movement he rolled his head around, clearing his left ear from the pillow against which it had been pressed. At once he heard and answered her, and at once she came to me. , , . , , . , . , , . , , . . , . , - , . Pressing the pillow against his left ear, I asked him if he heard me, but he gave no sign. Removing the pillow and, repeating the question he answered promptly that he did. , , , , . , , . "Do you know you are deaf in the right ear?" I asked. -- , ? -- . "Yes," he answered in a low, strong voice, "and worse than that. My whole right side is affected. It seems asleep. I cannot move arm or leg." -- , -- , . -- , . . , . "Feigning again?" I demanded angrily. -- ? -- . He shook his head, his stern mouth shaping the strangest, twisted smile. It was indeed a twisted smile, for it was on the left side only, the facial muscles of the right side moving not at all. , , . , , -- . "That was the last play of the Wolf," he said. "I am paralysed. I shall never walk again. Oh, only on the other side," he added, as though divining the suspicious glance I flung at his left leg, the knee of which had just then drawn up, and elevated the blankets. -- , -- . -- , ... , , , -- , , , , . "It's unfortunate," he continued. "I'd liked to have done for you first, Hump. And I thought I had that much left in me." -- , ! -- . -- , . , . "But why?" I asked; partly in horror, partly out of curiosity. -- ? -- , . Again his stern mouth framed the twisted smile, as he said: , : "Oh, just to be alive, to be living and doing, to be the biggest bit of the ferment to the end, to eat you. But to die this way." -- , , , !.. ... He shrugged his shoulders, or attempted to shrug them, rather, for the left shoulder alone moved. Like the smile, the shrug was twisted. , , -- . , . "But how can you account for it?" I asked. "Where is the seat of your trouble?" -- , ? ? "The brain," he said at once. "It was those cursed headaches brought it on." -- , -- . -- . "Symptoms," I said. -- , -- . He nodded his head. "There is no accounting for it. I was never sick in my life. Something's gone wrong with my brain. A cancer, a tumour, or something of that nature, - a thing that devours and destroys. It's attacking my nerve-centres, eating them up, bit by bit, cell by cell - from the pain." . -- . . - . - , , -- ... , . "The motor-centres, too," I suggested. -- , -- . "So it would seem; and the curse of it is that I must lie here, conscious, mentally unimpaired, knowing that the lines are going down, breaking bit by bit communication with the world. I cannot see, hearing and feeling are leaving me, at this rate I shall soon cease to speak; yet all the time I shall be here, alive, active, and powerless." -- -. , , , , , . ; , , . , , , , . "When you say YOU are here, I'd suggest the likelihood of the soul," I said. -- , , , , , -- . "Bosh!" was his retort. "It simply means that in the attack on my brain the higher psychical centres are untouched. I can remember, I can think and reason. When that goes, I go. I am not. The soul?" -- ! -- . -- , . , . , . . ? He broke out in mocking laughter, then turned his left ear to the pillow as a sign that he wished no further conversation. , , . Maud and I went about our work oppressed by the fearful fate which had overtaken him, - how fearful we were yet fully to realize. There was the awfulness of retribution about it. Our thoughts were deep and solemn, and we spoke to each other scarcely above whispers. , , . , . , . . "You might remove the handcuffs," he said that night, as we stood in consultation over him. "It's dead safe. I'm a paralytic now. The next thing to watch out for is bed sores." -- , -- , , , . -- -- . . He smiled his twisted smile, and Maud, her eyes wide with horror, was compelled to turn away her head. , ; . "Do you know that your smile is crooked?" I asked him; for I knew that she must attend him, and I wished to save her as much as possible. -- , ? -- , , , . "Then I shall smile no more," he said calmly. "I thought something was wrong. My right cheek has been numb all day. Yes, and I've had warnings of this for the last three days; by spells, my right side seemed going to sleep, sometimes arm or hand, sometimes leg or foot." -- , -- . -- , . . , , , -- -- , . "So my smile is crooked?" he queried a short while after. "Well, consider henceforth that I smile internally, with my soul, if you please, my soul. Consider that I am smiling now." -- , ? -- , . -- , , , -- , , ! , . And for the space of several minutes he lay there, quiet, indulging his grotesque fancy. , . The man of him was not changed. It was the old, indomitable, terrible Wolf Larsen, imprisoned somewhere within that flesh which had once been so invincible and splendid. Now it bound him with insentient fetters, walling his soul in darkness and silence, blocking it from the world which to him had been a riot of action. No more would he conjugate the verb "to do in every mood and tense." "To be" was all that remained to him - to be, as he had defined death, without movement; to will, but not to execute; to think and reason and in the spirit of him to be as alive as ever, but in the flesh to be dead, quite dead. . , , , , , - . , , . "". "" -- , . "" -- "", , ; , ; , , , -- , . And yet, though I even removed the handcuffs, we could not adjust ourselves to his condition. Our minds revolted. To us he was full of potentiality. We knew not what to expect of him next, what fearful thing, rising above the flesh, he might break out and do. Our experience warranted this state of mind, and we went about our work with anxiety always upon us. , , . . . , , - . , . I had solved the problem which had arisen through the shortness of the shears. By means of the watch-tackle (I had made a new one), I heaved the butt of the foremast across the rail and then lowered it to the deck. Next, by means of the shears, I hoisted the main boom on board. Its forty feet of length would supply the height necessary properly to swing the mast. By means of a secondary tackle I had attached to the shears, I swung the boom to a nearly perpendicular position, then lowered the butt to the deck, where, to prevent slipping, I spiked great cleats around it. The single block of my original shears-tackle I had attached to the end of the boom. Thus, by carrying this tackle to the windlass, I could raise and lower the end of the boom at will, the butt always remaining stationary, and, by means of guys, I could swing the boom from side to side. To the end of the boom I had likewise rigged a hoisting tackle; and when the whole arrangement was completed I could not but be startled by the power and latitude it gave me. , , . -, - , , -. , , . , , , . , , . , , , , . , , , . Of course, two days' work was required for the accomplishment of this part of my task, and it was not till the morning of the third day that I swung the foremast from the deck and proceeded to square its butt to fit the step. Here I was especially awkward. I sawed and chopped and chiselled the weathered wood till it had the appearance of having been gnawed by some gigantic mouse. But it fitted. , , - , -- . . , , , - . , , . "It will work, I know it will work," I cried. -- , , ! -- . "Do you know Dr. Jordan's final test of truth?" Maud asked. -- , ? -- . I shook my head and paused in the act of dislodging the shavings which had drifted down my neck. . "Can we make it work? Can we trust our lives to it? is the test." -- : " ? ?" "He is a favourite of yours," I said. -- , -- . "When I dismantled my old Pantheon and cast out Napoleon and Caesar and their fellows, I straightway erected a new Pantheon," she answered gravely, "and the first I installed as Dr. Jordan." -- , , - , -- , -- . "A modern hero." -- ! "And a greater because modern," she added. "How can the Old World heroes compare with ours?" -- , , , -- . -- ? I shook my head. We were too much alike in many things for argument. Our points of view and outlook on life at least were very alike. . , . -- , . "For a pair of critics we agree famously," I laughed. -- , -- . "And as shipwright and able assistant," she laughed back. -- -- , -- . But there was little time for laughter in those days, what of our heavy work and of the awfulness of Wolf Larsen's living death. -- , . He had received another stroke. He had lost his voice, or he was losing it. He had only intermittent use of it. As he phrased it, the wires were like the stock market, now up, now down. Occasionally the wires were up and he spoke as well as ever, though slowly and heavily. Then speech would suddenly desert him, in the middle of a sentence perhaps, and for hours, sometimes, we would wait for the connection to be re-established. He complained of great pain in his head, and it was during this period that he arranged a system of communication against the time when speech should leave him altogether - one pressure of the hand for "yes," two for "no." It was well that it was arranged, for by evening his voice had gone from him. By hand pressures, after that, he answered our questions, and when he wished to speak he scrawled his thoughts with his left hand, quite legibly, on a sheet of paper. . , , . . , , , " " , . "" , , , - . , -- , , -- , . , : "", -- "". , . , , . The fierce winter had now descended upon us. Gale followed gale, with snow and sleet and rain. The seals had started on their great southern migration, and the rookery was practically deserted. I worked feverishly. In spite of the bad weather, and of the wind which especially hindered me, I was on deck from daylight till dark and making substantial progress. . -- , , . , . . , , , , . I profited by my lesson learned through raising the shears and then climbing them to attach the guys. To the top of the foremast, which was just lifted conveniently from the deck, I attached the rigging, stays and throat and peak halyards. As usual, I had underrated the amount of work involved in this portion of the task, and two long days were necessary to complete it. And there was so much yet to be done - the sails, for instance, which practically had to be made over. , , , . -- , - -- -. , , , , -- . , , , . While I toiled at rigging the foremast, Maud sewed on canvas, ready always to drop everything and come to my assistance when more hands than two were required. The canvas was heavy and hard, and she sewed with the regular sailor's palm and three-cornered sail- needle. Her hands were soon sadly blistered, but she struggled bravely on, and in addition doing the cooking and taking care of the sick man. -. , , . , . , , ! "A fig for superstition," I said on Friday morning. "That mast goes in to-day.' -- ! -- . -- ! Everything was ready for the attempt. Carrying the boom-tackle to the windlass, I hoisted the mast nearly clear of the deck. Making this tackle fast, I took to the windlass the shears-tackle (which was connected with the end of the boom), and with a few turns had the mast perpendicular and clear. . , , . , , , , . Maud clapped her hands the instant she was relieved from holding the turn, crying: -- -- : "It works! It works! We'll trust our lives to it!" -- ߃! ! Then she assumed a rueful expression. . "It's not over the hole," she add. "Will you have to begin all over?" -- , -- . -- ? I smiled in superior fashion, and, slacking off on one of the boom- guys and taking in on the other, swung the mast perfectly in the centre of the deck. Still it was not over the hole. Again the rueful expression came on her face, and again I smiled in a superior way. Slacking away on the boom-tackle and hoisting an equivalent amount on the shears-tackle, I brought the butt of the mast into position directly over the hole in the deck. Then I gave Maud careful instructions for lowering away and went into the hold to the step on the schooner's bottom. , , . - . , , , . , , , . I called to her, and the mast moved easily and accurately. Straight toward the square hole of the step the square butt descended; but as it descended it slowly twisted so that square would not fit into square. But I had not even a moment's indecision. Calling to Maud to cease lowering, I went on deck and made the watch-tackle fast to the mast with a rolling hitch. I left Maud to pull on it while I went below. By the light of the lantern I saw the butt twist slowly around till its sides coincided with the sides of the step. Maud made fast and returned to the windlass. Slowly the butt descended the several intervening inches, at the same time slightly twisting again. Again Maud rectified the twist with the watch-tackle, and again she lowered away from the windlass. Square fitted into square. The mast was stepped. , . -- . , . , . , , -. , , -. , . . , , . - . , . I raised a shout, and she ran down to see. In the yellow lantern light we peered at what we had accomplished. We looked at each other, and our hands felt their way and clasped. The eyes of both of us, I think, were moist with the joy of success. , . . , . , . "It was done so easily after all," I remarked. "All the work was in the preparation." -- , -- . -- . "And all the wonder in the completion," Maud added. "I can scarcely bring myself to realize that that great mast is really up and in; that you have lifted it from the water, swung it through the air, and deposited it here where it belongs. It is a Titan's task." -- -- , -- . -- , , , , . ! "And they made themselves many inventions," I began merrily, then paused to sniff the air. -- " ", -- , . I looked hastily at the lantern. It was not smoking. Again I sniffed. . , . . "Something is burning," Maud said, with sudden conviction. -- - ! -- . We sprang together for the ladder, but I raced past her to the deck. A dense volume of smoke was pouring out of the steerage companion-way. , . . "The Wolf is not yet dead," I muttered to myself as I sprang down through the smoke. -- ! -- . It was so thick in the confined space that I was compelled to feel my way; and so potent was the spell of Wolf Larsen on my imagination, I was quite prepared for the helpless giant to grip my neck in a strangle hold. I hesitated, the desire to race back and up the steps to the deck almost overpowering me. Then I recollected Maud. The vision of her, as I had last seen her, in the lantern light of the schooner's hold, her brown eyes warm and moist with joy, flashed before me, and I knew that I could not go back. I was choking and suffocating by the time I reached Wolf Larsen's bunk. I reached my hand and felt for his. He was lying motionless, but moved slightly at the touch of my