The day came for our departure. There was no longer anything to detainus on Endeavour Island. The _Ghost’s_ stumpy masts were in place, hercrazy sails bent. All my handiwork was strong, none of it beautiful; butI knew that it would work, and I felt myself a man of power as I lookedat it.

“I did it! I did it! With my own hands I did it!” I wanted to cryaloud.

But Maud and I had a way of voicing each other’s thoughts, and she said,as we prepared to hoist the mainsail:

“To think, Humphrey, you did it all with your own hands?”

“But there were two other hands,” I answered. “Two small hands, anddon’t say that was a phrase, also, of your father.”

She laughed and shook her head, and held her hands up for inspection.

“I can never get them clean again,” she wailed, “nor soften theweather-beat.”

“Then dirt and weather-beat shall be your guerdon of honour,” I said,holding them in mine; and, spite of my resolutions, I would have kissedthe two dear hands had she not swiftly withdrawn them.

Our comradeship was becoming tremulous, I had mastered my love long andwell, but now it was mastering me. Wilfully had it disobeyed and won myeyes to speech, and now it was winning my tongue—ay, and my lips, forthey were mad this moment to kiss the two small hands which had toiled sofaithfully and hard. And I, too, was mad. There was a cry in my beinglike bugles calling me to her. And there was a wind blowing upon mewhich I could not resist, swaying the very body of me till I leanedtoward her, all unconscious that I leaned. And she knew it. She couldnot but know it as she swiftly drew away her hands, and yet, could notforbear one quick searching look before she turned away her eyes.

By means of deck-tackles I had arranged to carry the halyards forward tothe windlass; and now I hoisted the mainsail, peak and throat, at thesame time. It was a clumsy way, but it did not take long, and soon theforesail as well was up and fluttering.

“We can never get that anchor up in this narrow place, once it has leftthe bottom,” I said. “We should be on the rocks first.”

“What can you do?” she asked.

“Slip it,” was my answer. “And when I do, you must do your first work onthe windlass. I shall have to run at once to the wheel, and at the sametime you must be hoisting the jib.”

This manœuvre of getting under way I had studied and worked out a scoreof times; and, with the jib-halyard to the windlass, I knew Maud wascapable of hoisting that most necessary sail. A brisk wind was blowinginto the cove, and though the water was calm, rapid work was required toget us safely out.

When I knocked the shackle-bolt loose, the chain roared out through thehawse-hole and into the sea. I raced aft, putting the wheel up. The_Ghost_ seemed to start into life as she heeled to the first fill of hersails. The jib was rising. As it filled, the _Ghost’s_ bow swung offand I had to put the wheel down a few spokes and steady her.

I had devised an automatic jib-sheet which passed the jib across ofitself, so there was no need for Maud to attend to that; but she wasstill hoisting the jib when I put the wheel hard down. It was a momentof anxiety, for the _Ghost_ was rushing directly upon the beach, astone’s throw distant. But she swung obediently on her heel into thewind. There was a great fluttering and flapping of canvas andreef-points, most welcome to my ears, then she filled away on the othertack.

Maud had finished her task and come aft, where she stood beside me, asmall cap perched on her wind-blown hair, her cheeks flushed fromexertion, her eyes wide and bright with the excitement, her nostrilsquivering to the rush and bite of the fresh salt air. Her brown eyeswere like a startled deer’s. There was a wild, keen look in them I hadnever seen before, and her lips parted and her breath suspended as the_Ghost_, charging upon the wall of rock at the entrance to the innercove, swept into the wind and filled away into safe water.

My first mate’s berth on the sealing grounds stood me in good stead, andI cleared the inner cove and laid a long tack along the shore of theouter cove. Once again about, and the _Ghost_ headed out to open sea.She had now caught the bosom-breathing of the ocean, and was herselfa-breath with the rhythm of it as she smoothly mounted and slipped downeach broad-backed wave. The day had been dull and overcast, but the sunnow burst through the clouds, a welcome omen, and shone upon the curvingbeach where together we had dared the lords of the harem and slain theholluschickie. All Endeavour Island brightened under the sun. Even thegrim south-western promontory showed less grim, and here and there, wherethe sea-spray wet its surface, high lights flashed and dazzled in thesun.

“I shall always think of it with pride,” I said to Maud.

She threw her head back in a queenly way but said, “Dear, dear EndeavourIsland! I shall always love it.”

“And I,” I said quickly.

It seemed our eyes must meet in a great understanding, and yet, loath,they struggled away and did not meet.

There was a silence I might almost call awkward, till I broke it, saying:

“See those black clouds to windward. You remember, I told you last nightthe barometer was falling.”

“And the sun is gone,” she said, her eyes still fixed upon our island,where we had proved our mastery over matter and attained to the truestcomradeship that may fall to man and woman.

“And it’s slack off the sheets for Japan!” I cried gaily. “A fair windand a flowing sheet, you know, or however it goes.”

Lashing the wheel I ran forward, eased the fore and mainsheets, took inon the boom-tackles and trimmed everything for the quartering breezewhich was ours. It was a fresh breeze, very fresh, but I resolved to runas long as I dared. Unfortunately, when running free, it is impossibleto lash the wheel, so I faced an all-night watch. Maud insisted onrelieving me, but proved that she had not the strength to steer in aheavy sea, even if she could have gained the wisdom on such short notice.She appeared quite heart-broken over the discovery, but recovered herspirits by coiling down tackles and halyards and all stray ropes. Thenthere were meals to be cooked in the galley, beds to make, Wolf Larsen tobe attended upon, and she finished the day with a grand house-cleaningattack upon the cabin and steerage.

All night I steered, without relief, the wind slowly and steadilyincreasing and the sea rising. At five in the morning Maud brought mehot coffee and biscuits she had baked, and at seven a substantial andpiping hot breakfast put new lift into me.

Throughout the day, and as slowly and steadily as ever, the windincreased. It impressed one with its sullen determination to blow, andblow harder, and keep on blowing. And still the _Ghost_ foamed along,racing off the miles till I was certain she was making at least elevenknots. It was too good to lose, but by nightfall I was exhausted.Though in splendid physical trim, a thirty-six-hour trick at the wheelwas the limit of my endurance. Besides, Maud begged me to heave to, andI knew, if the wind and sea increased at the same rate during the night,that it would soon be impossible to heave to. So, as twilight deepened,gladly and at the same time reluctantly, I brought the _Ghost_ up on thewind.

But I had not reckoned upon the colossal task the reefing of three sailsmeant for one man. While running away from the wind I had notappreciated its force, but when we ceased to run I learned to my sorrow,and well-nigh to my despair, how fiercely it was really blowing. Thewind balked my every effort, ripping the canvas out of my hands and in aninstant undoing what I had gained by ten minutes of severest struggle.At eight o’clock I had succeeded only in putting the second reef into theforesail. At eleven o’clock I was no farther along. Blood dripped fromevery finger-end, while the nails were broken to the quick. From painand sheer exhaustion I wept in the darkness, secretly, so that Maudshould not know.

Then, in desperation, I abandoned the attempt to reef the mainsail andresolved to try the experiment of heaving to under the close-reefedforesail. Three hours more were required to gasket the mainsail and jib,and at two in the morning, nearly dead, the life almost buffeted andworked out of me, I had barely sufficient consciousness to know theexperiment was a success. The close-reefed foresail worked. The _Ghost_clung on close to the wind and betrayed no inclination to fall offbroadside to the trough.

I was famished, but Maud tried vainly to get me to eat. I dozed with mymouth full of food. I would fall asleep in the act of carrying food tomy mouth and waken in torment to find the act yet uncompleted. Sosleepily helpless was I that she was compelled to hold me in my chair toprevent my being flung to the floor by the violent pitching of theschooner.

Of the passage from the galley to the cabin I knew nothing. It was asleep-walker Maud guided and supported. In fact, I was aware of nothingtill I awoke, how long after I could not imagine, in my bunk with myboots off. It was dark. I was stiff and lame, and cried out with painwhen the bed-clothes touched my poor finger-ends.

Morning had evidently not come, so I closed my eyes and went to sleepagain. I did not know it, but I had slept the clock around and it wasnight again.

Once more I woke, troubled because I could sleep no better. I struck amatch and looked at my watch. It marked midnight. And I had not leftthe deck until three! I should have been puzzled had I not guessed thesolution. No wonder I was sleeping brokenly. I had slept twenty-onehours. I listened for a while to the behaviour of the _Ghost_, to thepounding of the seas and the muffled roar of the wind on deck, and thenturned over on my ride and slept peacefully until morning.

When I arose at seven I saw no sign of Maud and concluded she was in thegalley preparing breakfast. On deck I found the _Ghost_ doing splendidlyunder her patch of canvas. But in the galley, though a fire was burningand water boiling, I found no Maud.

I discovered her in the steerage, by Wolf Larsen’s bunk. I looked athim, the man who had been hurled down from the topmost pitch of life tobe buried alive and be worse than dead. There seemed a relaxation of hisexpressionless face which was new. Maud looked at me and I understood.

“His life flickered out in the storm,” I said.

“But he still lives,” she answered, infinite faith in her voice.

“He had too great strength.”

“Yes,” she said, “but now it no longer shackles him. He is a freespirit.”

“He is a free spirit surely,” I answered; and, taking her hand, I led heron deck.

The storm broke that night, which is to say that it diminished as slowlyas it had arisen. After breakfast next morning, when I had hoisted WolfLarsen’s body on deck ready for burial, it was still blowing heavily anda large sea was running. The deck was continually awash with the seawhich came inboard over the rail and through the scuppers. The windsmote the schooner with a sudden gust, and she heeled over till her leerail was buried, the roar in her rigging rising in pitch to a shriek. Westood in the water to our knees as I bared my head.

“I remember only one part of the service,” I said, “and that is, ‘And thebody shall be cast into the sea.’”

Maud looked at me, surprised and shocked; but the spirit of something Ihad seen before was strong upon me, impelling me to give service to WolfLarsen as Wolf Larsen had once given service to another man. I liftedthe end of the hatch cover and the canvas-shrouded body slipped feetfirst into the sea. The weight of iron dragged it down. It was gone.

“Good-bye, Lucifer, proud spirit,” Maud whispered, so low that it wasdrowned by the shouting of the wind; but I saw the movement of her lipsand knew.

As we clung to the lee rail and worked our way aft, I happened to glanceto leeward. The _Ghost_, at the moment, was uptossed on a sea, and Icaught a clear view of a small steamship two or three miles away, rollingand pitching, head on to the sea, as it steamed toward us. It waspainted black, and from the talk of the hunters of their poachingexploits I recognized it as a United States revenue cutter. I pointed itout to Maud and hurriedly led her aft to the safety of the poop.

I started to rush below to the flag-locker, then remembered that inrigging the _Ghost_. I had forgotten to make provision for aflag-halyard.

“We need no distress signal,” Maud said. “They have only to see us.”

“We are saved,” I said, soberly and solemnly. And then, in an exuberanceof joy, “I hardly know whether to be glad or not.”

I looked at her. Our eyes were not loath to meet. We leaned toward eachother, and before I knew it my arms were about her.

“Need I?” I asked.

And she answered, “There is no need, though the telling of it would besweet, so sweet.”

Her lips met the press of mine, and, by what strange trick of theimagination I know not, the scene in the cabin of the _Ghost_ flashedupon me, when she had pressed her fingers lightly on my lips and said,“Hush, hush.”

“My woman, my one small woman,” I said, my free hand petting her shoulderin the way all lovers know though never learn in school.

“My man,” she said, looking at me for an instant with tremulous lidswhich fluttered down and veiled her eyes as she snuggled her head againstmy breast with a happy little sigh.

I looked toward the cutter. It was very close. A boat was beinglowered.

“One kiss, dear love,” I whispered. “One kiss more before they come.”

“And rescue us from ourselves,” she completed, with a most adorablesmile, whimsical as I had never seen it, for it was whimsical with love.