I came on deck to find the _Ghost_ heading up close on the port tack andcutting in to windward of a familiar spritsail close-hauled on the sametack ahead of us. All hands were on deck, for they knew that somethingwas to happen when Leach and Johnson were dragged aboard.

It was four bells. Louis came aft to relieve the wheel. There was adampness in the air, and I noticed he had on his oilskins.

“What are we going to have?” I asked him.

“A healthy young slip of a gale from the breath iv it, sir,” he answered,“with a splatter iv rain just to wet our gills an’ no more.”

“Too bad we sighted them,” I said, as the _Ghost’s_ bow was flung off apoint by a large sea and the boat leaped for a moment past the jibs andinto our line of vision.

Louis gave a spoke and temporized. “They’d never iv made the land, sir,I’m thinkin’.”

“Think not?” I queried.

“No, sir. Did you feel that?” (A puff had caught the schooner, and hewas forced to put the wheel up rapidly to keep her out of the wind.)“’Tis no egg-shell’ll float on this sea an hour come, an’ it’s a strokeiv luck for them we’re here to pick ’em up.”

Wolf Larsen strode aft from amidships, where he had been talking with therescued men. The cat-like springiness in his tread was a little morepronounced than usual, and his eyes were bright and snappy.

“Three oilers and a fourth engineer,” was his greeting. “But we’ll makesailors out of them, or boat-pullers at any rate. Now, what of thelady?”

I know not why, but I was aware of a twinge or pang like the cut of aknife when he mentioned her. I thought it a certain silly fastidiousnesson my part, but it persisted in spite of me, and I merely shrugged myshoulders in answer.

Wolf Larsen pursed his lips in a long, quizzical whistle.

“What’s her name, then?” he demanded.

“I don’t know,” I replied. “She is asleep. She was very tired. Infact, I am waiting to hear the news from you. What vessel was it?”

“Mail steamer,” he answered shortly. “_The City of Tokio_, from ’Frisco,bound for Yokohama. Disabled in that typhoon. Old tub. Opened up topand bottom like a sieve. They were adrift four days. And you don’t knowwho or what she is, eh?—maid, wife, or widow? Well, well.”

He shook his head in a bantering way, and regarded me with laughing eyes.

“Are you—” I began. It was on the verge of my tongue to ask if he weregoing to take the castaways into Yokohama.

“Am I what?” he asked.

“What do you intend doing with Leach and Johnson?”

He shook his head. “Really, Hump, I don’t know. You see, with theseadditions I’ve about all the crew I want.”

“And they’ve about all the escaping they want,” I said. “Why not givethem a change of treatment? Take them aboard, and deal gently with them.Whatever they have done they have been hounded into doing.”

“By me?”

“By you,” I answered steadily. “And I give you warning, Wolf Larsen,that I may forget love of my own life in the desire to kill you if you gotoo far in maltreating those poor wretches.”

“Bravo!” he cried. “You do me proud, Hump! You’ve found your legs witha vengeance. You’re quite an individual. You were unfortunate in havingyour life cast in easy places, but you’re developing, and I like you thebetter for it.”

His voice and expression changed. His face was serious. “Do you believein promises?” he asked. “Are they sacred things?”

“Of course,” I answered.

“Then here’s a compact,” he went on, consummate actor. “If I promise notto lay my hands upon Leach will you promise, in turn, not to attempt tokill me?”

“Oh, not that I’m afraid of you, not that I’m afraid of you,” he hastenedto add.

I could hardly believe my ears. What was coming over the man?

“Is it a go?” he asked impatiently.

“A go,” I answered.

His hand went out to mine, and as I shook it heartily I could have swornI saw the mocking devil shine up for a moment in his eyes.

We strolled across the poop to the lee side. The boat was close at handnow, and in desperate plight. Johnson was steering, Leach bailing. Weoverhauled them about two feet to their one. Wolf Larsen motioned Louisto keep off slightly, and we dashed abreast of the boat, not a score offeet to windward. The _Ghost_ blanketed it. The spritsail flappedemptily and the boat righted to an even keel, causing the two men swiftlyto change position. The boat lost headway, and, as we lifted on a hugesurge, toppled and fell into the trough.

It was at this moment that Leach and Johnson looked up into the faces oftheir shipmates, who lined the rail amidships. There was no greeting.They were as dead men in their comrades’ eyes, and between them was thegulf that parts the living and the dead.

The next instant they were opposite the poop, where stood Wolf Larsen andI. We were falling in the trough, they were rising on the surge.Johnson looked at me, and I could see that his face was worn and haggard.I waved my hand to him, and he answered the greeting, but with a wavethat was hopeless and despairing. It was as if he were saying farewell.I did not see into the eyes of Leach, for he was looking at Wolf Larsen,the old and implacable snarl of hatred strong as ever on his face.

Then they were gone astern. The spritsail filled with the wind,suddenly, careening the frail open craft till it seemed it would surelycapsize. A whitecap foamed above it and broke across in a snow-whitesmother. Then the boat emerged, half swamped, Leach flinging the waterout and Johnson clinging to the steering-oar, his face white and anxious.

Wolf Larsen barked a short laugh in my ear and strode away to the weatherside of the poop. I expected him to give orders for the _Ghost_ to heaveto, but she kept on her course and he made no sign. Louis stoodimperturbably at the wheel, but I noticed the grouped sailors forwardturning troubled faces in our direction. Still the _Ghost_ tore along,till the boat dwindled to a speck, when Wolf Larsen’s voice rang out incommand and he went about on the starboard tack.

Back we held, two miles and more to windward of the strugglingcockle-shell, when the flying jib was run down and the schooner hove to.The sealing boats are not made for windward work. Their hope lies inkeeping a weather position so that they may run before the wind for theschooner when it breezes up. But in all that wild waste there was norefuge for Leach and Johnson save on the _Ghost_, and they resolutelybegan the windward beat. It was slow work in the heavy sea that wasrunning. At any moment they were liable to be overwhelmed by the hissingcombers. Time and again and countless times we watched the boat luffinto the big whitecaps, lose headway, and be flung back like a cork.

Johnson was a splendid seaman, and he knew as much about small boats ashe did about ships. At the end of an hour and a half he was nearlyalongside, standing past our stern on the last leg out, aiming to fetchus on the next leg back.

“So you’ve changed your mind?” I heard Wolf Larsen mutter, half tohimself, half to them as though they could hear. “You want to comeaboard, eh? Well, then, just keep a-coming.”

“Hard up with that helm!” he commanded Oofty-Oofty, the Kanaka, who hadin the meantime relieved Louis at the wheel.

Command followed command. As the schooner paid off, the fore- andmain-sheets were slacked away for fair wind. And before the wind wewere, and leaping, when Johnson, easing his sheet at imminent peril, cutacross our wake a hundred feet away. Again Wolf Larsen laughed, at thesame time beckoning them with his arm to follow. It was evidently hisintention to play with them,—a lesson, I took it, in lieu of a beating,though a dangerous lesson, for the frail craft stood in momentary dangerof being overwhelmed.

Johnson squared away promptly and ran after us. There was nothing elsefor him to do. Death stalked everywhere, and it was only a matter oftime when some one of those many huge seas would fall upon the boat, rollover it, and pass on.

“’Tis the fear iv death at the hearts iv them,” Louis muttered in my ear,as I passed forward to see to taking in the flying jib and staysail.

“Oh, he’ll heave to in a little while and pick them up,” I answeredcheerfully. “He’s bent upon giving them a lesson, that’s all.”

Louis looked at me shrewdly. “Think so?” he asked.

“Surely,” I answered. “Don’t you?”

“I think nothing but iv my own skin, these days,” was his answer. “An’’tis with wonder I’m filled as to the workin’ out iv things. A prettymess that ’Frisco whisky got me into, an’ a prettier mess that woman’sgot you into aft there. Ah, it’s myself that knows ye for a blitherin’fool.”

“What do you mean?” I demanded; for, having sped his shaft, he wasturning away.

“What do I mean?” he cried. “And it’s you that asks me! ’Tis not what Imean, but what the Wolf ’ll mean. The Wolf, I said, the Wolf!”

“If trouble comes, will you stand by?” I asked impulsively, for he hadvoiced my own fear.

“Stand by? ’Tis old fat Louis I stand by, an’ trouble enough it’ll be.We’re at the beginnin’ iv things, I’m tellin’ ye, the bare beginnin’ ivthings.”

“I had not thought you so great a coward,” I sneered.

He favoured me with a contemptuous stare. “If I raised never a hand forthat poor fool,”—pointing astern to the tiny sail,—“d’ye think I’mhungerin’ for a broken head for a woman I never laid me eyes upon beforethis day?”

I turned scornfully away and went aft.

“Better get in those topsails, Mr. Van Weyden,” Wolf Larsen said, as Icame on the poop.

I felt relief, at least as far as the two men were concerned. It wasclear he did not wish to run too far away from them. I picked up hope atthe thought and put the order swiftly into execution. I had scarcelyopened my mouth to issue the necessary commands, when eager men werespringing to halyards and downhauls, and others were racing aloft. Thiseagerness on their part was noted by Wolf Larsen with a grim smile.

Still we increased our lead, and when the boat had dropped astern severalmiles we hove to and waited. All eyes watched it coming, even WolfLarsen’s; but he was the only unperturbed man aboard. Louis, gazingfixedly, betrayed a trouble in his face he was not quite able to hide.

The boat drew closer and closer, hurling along through the seething greenlike a thing alive, lifting and sending and uptossing across thehuge-backed breakers, or disappearing behind them only to rush into sightagain and shoot skyward. It seemed impossible that it could continue tolive, yet with each dizzying sweep it did achieve the impossible. Arain-squall drove past, and out of the flying wet the boat emerged,almost upon us.

“Hard up, there!” Wolf Larsen shouted, himself springing to the wheel andwhirling it over.

Again the _Ghost_ sprang away and raced before the wind, and for twohours Johnson and Leach pursued us. We hove to and ran away, hove to andran away, and ever astern the struggling patch of sail tossed skyward andfell into the rushing valleys. It was a quarter of a mile away when athick squall of rain veiled it from view. It never emerged. The windblew the air clear again, but no patch of sail broke the troubledsurface. I thought I saw, for an instant, the boat’s bottom show blackin a breaking crest. At the best, that was all. For Johnson and Leachthe travail of existence had ceased.

The men remained grouped amidships. No one had gone below, and no onewas speaking. Nor were any looks being exchanged. Each man seemedstunned—deeply contemplative, as it were, and, not quite sure, trying torealize just what had taken place. Wolf Larsen gave them little time forthought. He at once put the _Ghost_ upon her course—a course which meantthe seal herd and not Yokohama harbour. But the men were no longer eageras they pulled and hauled, and I heard curses amongst them, which lefttheir lips smothered and as heavy and lifeless as were they. Not so wasit with the hunters. Smoke the irrepressible related a story, and theydescended into the steerage, bellowing with laughter.

As I passed to leeward of the galley on my way aft I was approached bythe engineer we had rescued. His face was white, his lips weretrembling.

“Good God! sir, what kind of a craft is this?” he cried.

“You have eyes, you have seen,” I answered, almost brutally, what of thepain and fear at my own heart.

“Your promise?” I said to Wolf Larsen.

“I was not thinking of taking them aboard when I made that promise,” heanswered. “And anyway, you’ll agree I’ve not laid my hands upon them.”

“Far from it, far from it,” he laughed a moment later.

I made no reply. I was incapable of speaking, my mind was too confused.I must have time to think, I knew. This woman, sleeping even now in thespare cabin, was a responsibility, which I must consider, and the onlyrational thought that flickered through my mind was that I must donothing hastily if I were to be any help to her at all.