For two days Maud and I ranged the sea and explored the beaches in searchof the missing masts. But it was not till the third day that we foundthem, all of them, the shears included, and, of all perilous places, inthe pounding surf of the grim south-western promontory. And how weworked! At the dark end of the first day we returned, exhausted, to ourlittle cove, towing the mainmast behind us. And we had been compelled torow, in a dead calm, practically every inch of the way.

Another day of heart-breaking and dangerous toil saw us in camp with thetwo topmasts to the good. The day following I was desperate, and Irafted together the foremast, the fore and main booms, and the fore andmain gaffs. The wind was favourable, and I had thought to tow them backunder sail, but the wind baffled, then died away, and our progress withthe oars was a snail’s pace. And it was such dispiriting effort. Tothrow one’s whole strength and weight on the oars and to feel the boatchecked in its forward lunge by the heavy drag behind, was not exactlyexhilarating.

Night began to fall, and to make matters worse, the wind sprang up ahead.Not only did all forward motion cease, but we began to drift back and outto sea. I struggled at the oars till I was played out. Poor Maud, whomI could never prevent from working to the limit of her strength, layweakly back in the stern-sheets. I could row no more. My bruised andswollen hands could no longer close on the oar handles. My wrists andarms ached intolerably, and though I had eaten heartily of atwelve-o’clock lunch, I had worked so hard that I was faint from hunger.

I pulled in the oars and bent forward to the line which held the tow.But Maud’s hand leaped out restrainingly to mine.

“What are you going to do?” she asked in a strained, tense voice.

“Cast it off,” I answered, slipping a turn of the rope.

But her fingers closed on mine.

“Please don’t,” she begged.

“It is useless,” I answered. “Here is night and the wind blowing us offthe land.”

“But think, Humphrey. If we cannot sail away on the _Ghost_, we mayremain for years on the island—for life even. If it has never beendiscovered all these years, it may never be discovered.”

“You forget the boat we found on the beach,” I reminded her.

“It was a seal-hunting boat,” she replied, “and you know perfectly wellthat if the men had escaped they would have been back to make theirfortunes from the rookery. You know they never escaped.”

I remained silent, undecided.

“Besides,” she added haltingly, “it’s your idea, and I want to see yousucceed.”

Now I could harden my heart. As soon as she put it on a flatteringpersonal basis, generosity compelled me to deny her.

“Better years on the island than to die to-night, or to-morrow, or thenext day, in the open boat. We are not prepared to brave the sea. Wehave no food, no water, no blankets, nothing. Why, you’d not survive thenight without blankets: I know how strong you are. You are shiveringnow.”

“It is only nervousness,” she answered. “I am afraid you will cast offthe masts in spite of me.”

“Oh, please, please, Humphrey, don’t!” she burst out, a moment later.

And so it ended, with the phrase she knew had all power over me. Weshivered miserably throughout the night. Now and again I fitfully slept,but the pain of the cold always aroused me. How Maud could stand it wasbeyond me. I was too tired to thrash my arms about and warm myself, butI found strength time and again to chafe her hands and feet to restorethe circulation. And still she pleaded with me not to cast off themasts. About three in the morning she was caught by a cold cramp, andafter I had rubbed her out of that she became quite numb. I wasfrightened. I got out the oars and made her row, though she was so weakI thought she would faint at every stroke.

Morning broke, and we looked long in the growing light for our island.At last it showed, small and black, on the horizon, fully fifteen milesaway. I scanned the sea with my glasses. Far away in the south-west Icould see a dark line on the water, which grew even as I looked at it.

“Fair wind!” I cried in a husky voice I did not recognize as my own.

Maud tried to reply, but could not speak. Her lips were blue with cold,and she was hollow-eyed—but oh, how bravely her brown eyes looked at me!How piteously brave!

Again I fell to chafing her hands and to moving her arms up and down andabout until she could thrash them herself. Then I compelled her to standup, and though she would have fallen had I not supported her, I forcedher to walk back and forth the several steps between the thwart and thestern-sheets, and finally to spring up and down.

“Oh, you brave, brave woman,” I said, when I saw the life coming backinto her face. “Did you know that you were brave?”

“I never used to be,” she answered. “I was never brave till I knew you.It is you who have made me brave.”

“Nor I, until I knew you,” I answered.

She gave me a quick look, and again I caught that dancing, tremulouslight and something more in her eyes. But it was only for the moment.Then she smiled.

“It must have been the conditions,” she said; but I knew she was wrong,and I wondered if she likewise knew. Then the wind came, fair and fresh,and the boat was soon labouring through a heavy sea toward the island.At half-past three in the afternoon we passed the south-westernpromontory. Not only were we hungry, but we were now suffering fromthirst. Our lips were dry and cracked, nor could we longer moisten themwith our tongues. Then the wind slowly died down. By night it was deadcalm and I was toiling once more at the oars—but weakly, most weakly. Attwo in the morning the boat’s bow touched the beach of our own inner coveand I staggered out to make the painter fast. Maud could not stand, norhad I strength to carry her. I fell in the sand with her, and, when Ihad recovered, contented myself with putting my hands under her shouldersand dragging her up the beach to the hut.

The next day we did no work. In fact, we slept till three in theafternoon, or at least I did, for I awoke to find Maud cooking dinner.Her power of recuperation was wonderful. There was something tenaciousabout that lily-frail body of hers, a clutch on existence which one couldnot reconcile with its patent weakness.

“You know I was travelling to Japan for my health,” she said, as welingered at the fire after dinner and delighted in the movelessness ofloafing. “I was not very strong. I never was. The doctors recommendeda sea voyage, and I chose the longest.”

“You little knew what you were choosing,” I laughed.

“But I shall be a different women for the experience, as well as astronger woman,” she answered; “and, I hope a better woman. At least Ishall understand a great deal more life.”

Then, as the short day waned, we fell to discussing Wolf Larsen’sblindness. It was inexplicable. And that it was grave, I instanced hisstatement that he intended to stay and die on Endeavour Island. When he,strong man that he was, loving life as he did, accepted his death, it wasplain that he was troubled by something more than mere blindness. Therehad been his terrific headaches, and we were agreed that it was some sortof brain break-down, and that in his attacks he endured pain beyond ourcomprehension.

I noticed as we talked over his condition, that Maud’s sympathy went outto him more and more; yet I could not but love her for it, so sweetlywomanly was it. Besides, there was no false sentiment about her feeling.She was agreed that the most rigorous treatment was necessary if we wereto escape, though she recoiled at the suggestion that I might some timebe compelled to take his life to save my own—“our own,” she put it.

In the morning we had breakfast and were at work by daylight. I found alight kedge anchor in the fore-hold, where such things were kept; andwith a deal of exertion got it on deck and into the boat. With a longrunning-line coiled down in the stem, I rowed well out into our littlecove and dropped the anchor into the water. There was no wind, the tidewas high, and the schooner floated. Casting off the shore-lines, Ikedged her out by main strength (the windlass being broken), till sherode nearly up and down to the small anchor—too small to hold her in anybreeze. So I lowered the big starboard anchor, giving plenty of slack;and by afternoon I was at work on the windlass.

Three days I worked on that windlass. Least of all things was I amechanic, and in that time I accomplished what an ordinary machinistwould have done in as many hours. I had to learn my tools to begin with,and every simple mechanical principle which such a man would have at hisfinger ends I had likewise to learn. And at the end of three days I hada windlass which worked clumsily. It never gave the satisfaction the oldwindlass had given, but it worked and made my work possible.

In half a day I got the two topmasts aboard and the shears rigged andguyed as before. And that night I slept on board and on deck beside mywork. Maud, who refused to stay alone ashore, slept in the forecastle.Wolf Larsen had sat about, listening to my repairing the windlass andtalking with Maud and me upon indifferent subjects. No reference wasmade on either side to the destruction of the shears; nor did he sayanything further about my leaving his ship alone. But still I had fearedhim, blind and helpless and listening, always listening, and I never lethis strong arms get within reach of me while I worked.

On this night, sleeping under my beloved shears, I was aroused by hisfootsteps on the deck. It was a starlight night, and I could see thebulk of him dimly as he moved about. I rolled out of my blankets andcrept noiselessly after him in my stocking feet. He had armed himselfwith a draw-knife from the tool-locker, and with this he prepared to cutacross the throat-halyards I had again rigged to the shears. He felt thehalyards with his hands and discovered that I had not made them fast.This would not do for a draw-knife, so he laid hold of the running part,hove taut, and made fast. Then he prepared to saw across with thedraw-knife.

“I wouldn’t, if I were you,” I said quietly.

He heard the click of my pistol and laughed.

“Hello, Hump,” he said. “I knew you were here all the time. You can’tfool my ears.”

“That’s a lie, Wolf Larsen,” I said, just as quietly as before.“However, I am aching for a chance to kill you, so go ahead and cut.”

“You have the chance always,” he sneered.

“Go ahead and cut,” I threatened ominously.

“I’d rather disappoint you,” he laughed, and turned on his heel and wentaft.

“Something must be done, Humphrey,” Maud said, next morning, when I hadtold her of the night’s occurrence. “If he has liberty, he may doanything. He may sink the vessel, or set fire to it. There is notelling what he may do. We must make him a prisoner.”

“But how?” I asked, with a helpless shrug. “I dare not come within reachof his arms, and he knows that so long as his resistance is passive Icannot shoot him.”

“There must be some way,” she contended. “Let me think.”

“There is one way,” I said grimly.

She waited.

I picked up a seal-club.

“It won’t kill him,” I said. “And before he could recover I’d have himbound hard and fast.”

She shook her head with a shudder. “No, not that. There must be someless brutal way. Let us wait.”

But we did not have to wait long, and the problem solved itself. In themorning, after several trials, I found the point of balance in theforemast and attached my hoisting tackle a few feet above it. Maud heldthe turn on the windlass and coiled down while I heaved. Had thewindlass been in order it would not have been so difficult; as it was, Iwas compelled to apply all my weight and strength to every inch of theheaving. I had to rest frequently. In truth, my spells of resting werelonger than those of working. Maud even contrived, at times when all myefforts could not budge the windlass, to hold the turn with one hand andwith the other to throw the weight of her slim body to my assistance.

At the end of an hour the single and double blocks came together at thetop of the shears. I could hoist no more. And yet the mast was notswung entirely inboard. The butt rested against the outside of the portrail, while the top of the mast overhung the water far beyond thestarboard rail. My shears were too short. All my work had been fornothing. But I no longer despaired in the old way. I was acquiring moreconfidence in myself and more confidence in the possibilities ofwindlasses, shears, and hoisting tackles. There was a way in which itcould be done, and it remained for me to find that way.

While I was considering the problem, Wolf Larsen came on deck. Wenoticed something strange about him at once. The indecisiveness, orfeebleness, of his movements was more pronounced. His walk was actuallytottery as he came down the port side of the cabin. At the break of thepoop he reeled, raised one hand to his eyes with the familiar brushinggesture, and fell down the steps—still on his feet—to the main deck,across which he staggered, falling and flinging out his arms for support.He regained his balance by the steerage companion-way and stood theredizzily for a space, when he suddenly crumpled up and collapsed, his legsbending under him as he sank to the deck.

“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 anddespatching me to the cabin for a pillow. I also brought blankets, andwe 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 thenthe wrist I held leaped from my hand, and the hand clasped like a steeltrap about my wrist. I cried aloud in awful fear, a wild inarticulatecry; and I caught one glimpse of his face, malignant and triumphant, ashis other hand compassed my body and I was drawn down to him in aterrible grip.

My wrist was released, but his other arm, passed around my back, heldboth 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 byone’s own idiocy. Why had I trusted myself within reach of thoseterrible arms? I could feel other hands at my throat. They were Maud’shands, 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 hadheard it before, during the sinking of the _Martinez_.

My face was against his chest and I could not see, but I heard Maud turnand run swiftly away along the deck. Everything was happening quickly.I had not yet had a glimmering of unconsciousness, and it seemed that aninterminable period of time was lapsing before I heard her feet flyingback. And just then I felt the whole man sink under me. The breath wasleaving his lungs and his chest was collapsing under my weight. Whetherit was merely the expelled breath, or his consciousness of his growingimpotence, I know not, but his throat vibrated with a deep groan. Thehand at my throat relaxed. I breathed. It fluttered and tightenedagain. But even his tremendous will could not overcome the dissolutionthat 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 timeand my throat was released. I rolled off and over to the deck on myback, gasping and blinking in the sunshine. Maud was pale butcomposed,—my eyes had gone instantly to her face,—and she was looking atme with mingled alarm and relief. A heavy seal-club in her hand caughtmy eyes, and at that moment she followed my gaze down to it. The clubdropped from her hand as though it had suddenly stung her, and at thesame moment my heart surged with a great joy. Truly she was my woman, mymate-woman, fighting with me and for me as the mate of a caveman wouldhave fought, all the primitive in her aroused, forgetful of her culture,hard under the softening civilization of the only life she had everknown.

“Dear woman!” I cried, scrambling to my feet.

The next moment she was in my arms, weeping convulsively on my shoulderwhile 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 thetreasure-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, cryingher relief, now that the danger was past, in the arms of her protector orof the one who had been endangered. Had I been father or brother, thesituation would have been in nowise different. Besides, time and placewere 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 myclasp.

“It was a real attack this time,” I said: “another shock like the onethat made him blind. He feigned at first, and in doing so brought iton.”

Maud was already rearranging his pillow.

“No,” I said, “not yet. Now that I have him helpless, helpless he shallremain. From this day we live in the cabin. Wolf Larsen shall live inthe 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, Ibalanced him across the threshold and lowered him down the steps to thefloor. I could not lift him directly into a bunk, but with Maud’s help Ilifted first his shoulders and head, then his body, balanced him acrossthe edge, and rolled him into a lower bunk.

But this was not to be all. I recollected the handcuffs in hisstate-room, which he preferred to use on sailors instead of the ancientand clumsy ship irons. So, when we left him, he lay handcuffed hand andfoot. For the first time in many days I breathed freely. I feltstrangely light as I came on deck, as though a weight had been lifted offmy shoulders. I felt, also, that Maud and I had drawn more closelytogether. And I wondered if she, too, felt it, as we walked along thedeck side by side to where the stalled foremast hung in the shears.