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Elisha Cuthbert Photos Books: Martin Eden The Pickwick Papers The Sea Wolf |
Weve got him!" I could hear Leach
crying.
"Who?" demanded those who had been really asleep, and who had
wakened to they knew not what.
"Its the bloody mate!" was Leachs crafty answer, strained from
him in a smothered sort of way.
This was greeted with whoops of joy, and from then on Wolf Larsen
had seven strong men on top of him, Louis, I believe, taking no
part in it. The forecastle was like an angry hive of bees aroused
by some marauder.
"What ho! below there!" I heard Latimer shout down the scuttle, too
cautious to descend into the inferno of passion he could hear
raging beneath him in the darkness.
"Wont somebody get a knife? Oh, wont somebody get a knife?"
Leach pleaded in the first interval of comparative silence.
The number of the assailants was a cause of confusion. They
blocked their own efforts, while Wolf Larsen, with but a single
purpose, achieved his. This was to fight his way across the floor
to the ladder. Though in total darkness, I followed his progress
by its sound. No man less than a giant could have done what he
did, once he had gained the foot of the ladder. Step by step, by
the might of his arms, the whole pack of men striving to drag him
back and down, he drew his body up from the floor till he stood
erect. And then, step by step, hand and foot, he slowly struggled
up the ladder.
The very last of all, I saw. For Latimer, having finally gone for
a lantern, held it so that its light shone down the scuttle. Wolf
Larsen was nearly to the top, though I could not see him. All that
was visible was the mass of men fastened upon him. It squirmed
about, like some huge many-legged spider, and swayed back and forth
to the regular roll of the vessel. And still, step by step with
long intervals between, the mass ascended. Once it tottered, about
to fall back, but the broken hold was regained and it still went
up.
"Who is it?" Latimer cried.
In the rays of the lantern I could see his perplexed face peering
down.
"Larsen," I heard a muffled voice from within the mass.
Latimer reached down with his free hand. I saw a hand shoot up to
clasp his. Latimer pulled, and the next couple of steps were made
with a rush. Then Wolf Larsens other hand reached up and clutched
the edge of the scuttle. The mass swung clear of the ladder, the
men still clinging to their escaping foe. They began to drop of,
to be brushed off against the sharp edge of the scuttle, to be
knocked off by the legs which were now kicking powerfully. Leach
was the last to go, falling sheer back from the top of the scuttle
and striking on head and shoulders upon his sprawling mates
beneath. Wolf Larsen and the lantern disappeared, and we were left
in darkness. CHAPTER XV There was a deal of cursing and groaning as the men at the bottom of the ladder crawled to their feet. "Somebody strike a light, my thumbs out of joint," said one of the men, Parsons, a swarthy, saturnine man, boat-steerer in Standishs boat, in which Harrison was puller. "Youll find it knockin about by the bitts," Leach said, sitting down on the edge of the bunk in which I was concealed. There was a fumbling and a scratching of matches, and the sea-lamp flared up, dim and smoky, and in its weird light bare-legged men moved about nursing their bruises and caring for their hurts. Oofty-Oofty laid hold of Parsonss thumb, pulling it out stoutly and snapping it back into place. I noticed at the same time that the Kanakas knuckles were laid open clear across and to the bone. He exhibited them, exposing beautiful white teeth in a grin as he did so, and explaining that the wounds had come from striking Wolf Larsen in the mouth. "So it was you, was it, you black beggar?" belligerently demanded one Kelly, an Irish-American and a longshoreman, making his first trip to sea, and boat-puller for Kerfoot. As he made the demand he spat out a mouthful of blood and teeth and shoved his pugnacious face close to Oofty-Oofty. The Kanaka leaped backward to his bunk, to return with a second leap, flourishing a long knife. "Aw, go lay down, you make The Sea Wolf page 54 The Sea Wolf page 56 |