Evening Republican, Volume 20, Number 93, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 18 April 1916 — Page 3

The SEA WOLF

by JACK LONDON

BYNOP3IB. — lo— - Humphrey Van Weyden, critic and dilettante, la thrown Into the water by the finking of a ferryboat In a tog In San Francisco bay, and becomes unconscious before help reaches him. On coming to his senses he finds hlmßelf aboard the sealing schooner Ghost, Captain Wolf Larsen, bound to Japan waters, witnesses the death of the first mate and hears the captain curse the dead man for presuming to die. The captain' refuses to put Humphrey ashore and makes him cabin boy “’for the good of his soul.” He begins to learn potato peeling and dish washing under the cockney cook, Mugrldge, Is caught by a heavy sea shipped over the quarter as he Is carrying tea aft and his knee is seriously Ifurt. but no one pays any attention to his injury. Hump’s quarters are changed aft. Mugrldge steals his money and chases him when accused of It. Later he listens to Wolf give his Idea of life—"like yeast, a ferment . . . the big eat the little . . Cooky is jealous of Hump and hazes him. Wolf hazes a seaman and makes it the basis for another philosophic discussion with Hump. Wolf entertains Mugrldge In his cabin, wins from him at cards the money he stole from Hump, and then tells Hump It is his, Wolf's, by right of might. Cooky and Hump whet knives at each other. Hump's Intimacy with Wolf Increases, and Wolf sketches the story of his life to Hump. Wolf discusses the Bible, and Omar with Hump and illustrates the Instinctive love of life by choking Hump nearly to death. A carnival of brutality breaks loose In the ship and Wolf proves himself the master brute. Wolf Is knocked overboard at night, comes -back aboard by the logtine and wins clear In a fight in the forecastle.

CHAPTER XIII. 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 thumb’s out of Joint," said one of the men, Parsons, a swarthy, saturnine man, boat steerer In Standish’s boat, In which Harrison was puller. "You’ll 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. "How did he get away?” Johnson asked. He was sitting on the side of his bunk, the whole pose of his figure indicating utter dejection and hopelessness. He was still breathing heavily from the exertion he had made. His shirt had been ripped entirely from him in the struggle, an<j blood from a gash in the cheek was flowing down his naked chest, marking a red path across his white thigh and dripping to the floor. "Because he is a devil, as I told you before,” was Leach*B answer; and thereat he was on his feet and raging his disappointment with tears in his eyes. All the while I had been apprehensive concerning my own predicament. What would happen to me when these men discovered my presence? I could never fight my way out as Wolf Larsen had done. And at this moment Latimer called down the scuttles:

“Hump! The old man wants you!” called back. “Yes he is,” I said, sliding out of the bunk and striving my hardest to keep my voice steady and bold. The sailors looked at me in conster“He ain’t down here!” Parsons nation. Fear was strong in their faces, and the devllishness which comes of fear. “I’m coming!” I shouted up to Latimer. “No you don’t!” Kelly cried, stepping between me and the ladder, his right hand shapeu into a veritable strangler’s clutch. “You damn little sneak! I’ll shut yer mouth!” “Let him go,” Leach commanded. “Not on yer life,” was the angry retort. Leach never changed his position on the edge of the bunk. “Let him go, I say,” he repeated; but this time his voice was gritty and metallic. The Irishman wavered. I made to step by him, and he stood aside. When I had gained the ladder, I'turned to the circle of brutal and malignantfaces peering at me through the semidarkness. A sudden and deep sympathy welled up in me. “I have seen and heard nothing, believe me,” I said quietly. “I tell yer, he’s all right,” I could hear Leach saying as I went up the ladder. “He don’t like the old man no more nor you or me.”

I found Wolf Larsen In the cabin, stripped and bloody, waiting for me. He greeted me with one of his whimsical smiles. “Come, get to work, doctor. The signs are favorable for an extensive practice this voyage. I don’t know what the Ghost would have been without you, and if I could only cherish such noble sentiments I would tell you her master is deeply grateful.” I knew the run of the simple medicine chest the Ghost carried, and while 1 was heating water on the cabin stove and getting the things ready for dressing his wounds, he moved about, laughing and chatting, and examining his hurts with a calculating eye. I had never before seen him stripped, and the sight of his body quite took my breath away. It has never been my weaknessto exalt the flesh-—far from It; but there is enough of the artist in aM to appreciate Its wander.

Wolf Larsen was the man-type, the masculine, and almost a god In his perfectness. As he moved about or raised his arms the great muscles leapt and moved under the satiny skin. I have forgotten to say that the bronze ended with his face. His body, thanks to his Scandinavian stock, was fair as the fairest woman’s. 1 remember bis putting his hand up to feel of the wound on his head, and my watching the biceps move ljke a living thing under its white sheath. It was the biceps that had nearly crushed out my life once, that I had seen strike so many killing blows. 1 could not take my eyes from him. I stood motionless, a roll of antiseptic cotton in my hand unwinding and spilling itself down to the floor. He noticed me, and I became conscious that I was staring at him. “God made you well,” I 3aid. He braced his legs and feet, pressing the cabin floor with his toes in a clutching sort of way. Knots and ridges and mounds of muscles writhed and bunched under the skin. ‘‘Feel them,” he commanded. They were hard as iron. And I observed, also, that his whole body had unconsciously drawn itself together, tense and alert; that muscles were softly crawling and shaping about the hips, along the back, and across the shoulders; that the arms were slightly lifted, their muscles contracting, the fingers crooking till the hands were like talons; and that even the eyes had changed expression and into them were coming watchfulness and measurement and a light none other than of battle.

“Stability, equilibrium," he said, relaxing on the instant and sinking his body into repose. “Feet with which to clutch the ground, legs to stand on and to help withstand, while with arms and hands, teeth and nails, I struggle to kill and to be not killed. Purpose? Utility is the better word." I did not argue. I had seen the mechanism of the primitive fighting beast, and I was as strongly impressed as if I had seen the engines of a great battleship or Atlantic liner. I was surprised, considering the fierce struggle in the forecastle, at the superficiality of his hurts, and I pride myself that I dressed them ously“By the way. Hump, as I have remarked, you are a handy man,” Wolf Larsen began, when my work was done. “As you know, we’re short a mate. Hereafter you shall stand watches, receive seventy-five dollars per month, and be addressed fore and aft as Mr. Van Weyden." “I—l don’t understand navigation, you know,” I gasped. “Not necessary at all.” “I really do not care to sit in the high places," I objected. "I find life

“No You Don’t" Kelly Cried, Stepping Between Me and the Ladder.

precarious enough In my present humble situation. I have no experience. Mediocrity, you see, has its compensations.” He smiled as though it were all settled. “I won’t be mate on this hell-ship!" I cried defiantly. I saw his face grow hard and the merciless glitter come Into his eyes. He walked to the door of his room, saying: “And now, Mr. Van Weyden, good night.” “Good night, Mr. Larsen,” I answered weakly. CHAPTER XIV. . I cannot say that the position of mate carried with it anything more Joyful than that there were no more dishes to wash. 1 was Ignorant of the simplest duties of mate, and would have fared badly indeed had the sailors not sympathized with me. I knew nothing of the minutiae of ropes and rigging, of the trimming attd setting of sails; but the sailors took pains to put me to rights. Louis proving an espe-

THE EVENING REPUBLICAN, RENSSELAER, INP.

f\ N THIS TALEN I JACK LON-A 1 DON’S SEA EX-/ PERIENCE IS SjgED WITH ALL 1 -feHS-VIRILE^EEN-

dally good teacher, and I had little trouble with those under me. With the hunters it was otherwise. Familiar in varying degree with the sea, they took me as a sort of Joke. In truth, It was a joke to me that I, the veriest landsman, should be filling the office of mate; but to be taken as a joke by others was a different matter. 1 made no complaint, but Wolf Larsen demanded the most punctilious sea etiquette in my case—far more than poor Johansen had ever received; and at the expense of several rows, threats and much grumbling, he brought the hunters to time. I was “Mr. Van Weyden” fore and aft, and it was only unofficially that Wolf Larsen himself ever addressed me as “Hump." It was amusing. Perhaps the wind would haul a few points while we were at dinner, and as I left the table he would say, “Mr. Van Weyden, will you kindly put about on the port tack?" And I would go on deck, beckon Louis to mo, and learn from him what was to be done. Then, a few minutes later, having digested his instructions and thoroughly mastered the maneuver, I would procoed to issue my orders. I remember an early instance of this kind, when Wolf Larsen appeared on the scene just as I had begun to give orders. He smoked his cigar and looked on quietly till the thing was accomplished, and then paced aft by my Bide along the weather poop.

“Hump,” he said—“l beg pardon, Mr. Van Weyden—l congratulate you. I think ypu can now fire your father’s legs back into the grave to him. You’ve discovered your own and learned to stand on them. A little ropework, sailmaking and experience with storms and such things, and by the end of the voyage you could ship on any coasting schooner.” It was during this period, between the death of Johansen and the arrival on the sealing grounds, that I passed my pleasantest hours on the Ghost. Wolf Larsen was quite considerate, the sailors helped me, and I was no longer in irritating contact with Thomas Mugridge. And I make free to say, as the days went by, that I found I was taking a certain secret pride in myself. Fantastic as the situation was—a landlubber second In command —I was, nevertheless, carrying it off well; and during that brief time I was proud of myself, and I grew to love the heave and roll of the Ghost under my feet as she wallowed north and west through the tropic sea to the islet where we filled our water casks.

But my happiness was unalloyed. It was comparative, a period of less misery slipped in between a past of great miseries and a future of great miseries. For the Ghost, so far as the seamen were concerned, was a hell-ship of the worst description. They never had a moment’s rest or peace. Wolf Larsen treasured against them the attempt on bis life and the drubbing he had received in the forecastle; and morning, noon and night, and all night as well, he devoted himself to making life unlivable for them. Leach and Johnson were the two particular victims of Wolf Larsen’s diabolic temper, and the look of profound melancholy which had settled on Johnson’s face and in his eyes made my heart bleed. With Leach it was different. There was too much of the fighting beast In him. He seemed possessed by an insatiable fury which gave no time for grief. His lips had become distorted into a permanent snarl, which, at mere sight of Wolf Larsen, broke out in sound, horrible and menacing, and, I do believe, unconsciously. I have seen hipi follow Wolf Larsen about with his eyes, like an animal its keeper, the while the animal-like snarl sounded deep in his throat and vibrated forth between his teeth. Both he and Johnson would -have killed Wolf Larsen at the slightest opportunity, ' but the opportunity never came. Wolf Larsen was too wise for that, and, besides, they had no adequate Tveapons. With the'r fists alone they had no chance whatever. Time and •again he fought it out with Leach, who fought back, always, llko a wildcat, tooth and nail and fist, until stretched, exhausted or unconscious, on the deck. And he was never averse to another encounter.

I often wondered why Wolf Larsen did not kill him and make an end of it But he only laughed and seemed to enjoy it. There seemed a certain spice about it, such as men must feel who take delight in making pets of ferocious animals. "It gives a thrill to life,” he explained to me, “when life is carried in one’s hand. Man is a natural gambler, and life is the biggest stake he can lay. The greater the odds the greater the thrill.” “Ah, but it is cowardly, cowardly!” I criiid. "You. hava all -the advantage.” “Of the two of us, you and I, who is the greater coward ?’’ he asked seing, you compromise with your conscience when you make yourself a

party to it. If >ou war* really great, really true to yourself, you would join forces with Leach and Johnson. But you are afraid. You want to live. The life that is in You cries out that It must live, no matter what the cost; so you live lgnominiously, untrue to the best you dream of. sinning against your whole pitiful little code, and. If there were a hell, heading your soul straight for it. Bah! I play the braver part. I do not sin, for I aHh tape to the promptlnga of the life that is in me. I am sincere with my soul at least, and that is what you are not” There was a sting in what he said. Perhaps, afte* all, I was pl«ylng a cowardly part. I pondered it long, lying sleepless in my bunk and reviewing in endless procession the facts of the situation. I talked with Johnson and Leach, during the night watches when Wolf Larsen was below. Both men had lost hope—Johnson, because of temperamental despondency; Leach, because he had beaten himself out in the vain struggle and was exhausted. But he caught my hand In a passionate grip one night, saying: "I think yer square, Mr. Van Weyden. But stay where you are and keep your mouth shut. Say nothin’ but saw wood. We’re dead men, I know it;

I Have Seen Him Follow Wolf Larsen About With His Eyes.

but all the same you might be able to do us a favor some time when we need it damn bad.” It was only next day, when Watnwright island loomed to windward, close abeam, that Wolf Larsen opened his mouth In prophecy. He had attacked Johnson, been attacked by Leach, and had Just finished whipping the pair of them. “Leach,” he said, "you know I’m going to kill you some time or other, don’t you?” A snarl was the answer. “And as for you, Johnson, you’ll get so tired of life before I’m through with you that you’ll fling yourself over the side. See if you don’t.” “That’s a suggestion," he added, In an aside to me. “I’ll bet you a month’s pay he acts upon it.” (TO BE CONTINUED.)

HARD TO ESTIMATE CROWD

Few Civilians Are Able to Give Nun» bers of a Gathering—Army Officers Tell Secret. It is remarkable how the average civilian overestimates the number of persons in a big procession. Take, for example, the recent? demonstration in London. It was said that there were 15,000 men in line and some enthusiasts -put it even at 20,000. But it is easy to estimate such numbers approximately, says London Tit-Bits. Here is the rule as laid down in the “Field Service Regulations” of the United States army: “The strength of a body of troops may be estimated front the length of time it takes to pass a given point. Assuming that infantry in column of fours occupies half a yard per man. cavalry one yard per trooper and artillery in single 'olumn per gun or caisson, a given point would be passed In one minute by about 175 nfantry, 110 cavalry at a walk, 200 cavalry at a trot and five guns or caissons.” Allowing for spacing between companies, uattalioLC and regiments, all of which is according to mathematical rule, it takes a regiment of 1,000 men divided into battalions Just ten minutes to pass, or at the rate of 6,000 an hour. And this supposes no breaks in the line. . / These rules, it must be remembered, are for trained soldiers used to a long step and to keeping up without straggling. No civilians, even militant suffragettes. ever kept or could keep up this pace.

Distinguished Italian Sailor.

Vice-Admiral Camillo Corsi, successor to Admiral Viale as minister of the Italian navy, is a Roman by birth, fiftyfive years of age. He carries to his high office a well-balanced experience, both in ministerial and staff work, and in responsible command during actual warifju-e. He was chief secretary to Admiral Mirabello when that capable officer was minister of the navy during a period of important naval reforms. Early in his career be spent many years in navigation in charge of a scboolshtp, and during the war with Turkey he had the supervision of the transportation of the Italian troops to and later was in command of one of the Italian naval squadrons which took possession of several falands In the Aegean.

GATHERED SMILES

THE DREAM THAT FAILED. ♦T dream*# 4 ,r be*utiful dream last night," the bashful young man said. “I wonder if you can guess It aright,” and he blushed a rosy red. “Dreams are things I never could guesß, the beautiful maid did reply. “I dreamed to a question you answered *yes, he said with a deep-drawn sigh- "But you are aware, no doubt,” said she, “that dreams by contraries go; so should you that question ask of me, my answer will surely be ‘no.’ "

Overdoing It.

"I’m a great believer in the uplift,” said Mr. Twdbble, “but it has its limitations." “How so?” asked Mr. Gadson, simulating an interest he did not feel. “For instance, I don’t think it’s right to lift a man so high above his natural environment that he never gets his feet on solid ground again as long as he lives." *

Rather Indifferent.

"You, of course, subscribe to the theory that it is human to err and divine to forgive?” “Oh, yes,” replied the man in motor togs, “but when I began driving a car I discovered that the people you bump into don’t seem to care a hang about whether they show themselves possessed of divine attributes or not”

Friendly Criticism.

Pennibs—Two of my latest poems appeared In the last issue of McDufTsmagazine. Inkerton —Yes, I noticed them. Pennibs—Would you mind giving me your opinion of them? Inkerton —Well, to be candid, I thought the one was awfully simple and the other simply awful.

PROVERB PUT TO SLEEP.

"Do you believe politics makes strange bedfellows?” “Not these days. Politics doesn’t give a man a chance to sleep at all.”

Yea, Verily!

Prom the very beginning, it seems, .Woman insisted on having her way; And something’s wrong if she only talks When she has something to say.

Going the Pace.

Edyth—Miss Elderleigh is making an effort to capture Jack Huggins; he’s rather swift, you know. Mayme—;Well, he’ll have to be pretty swift to escape her.

A Dialect.

“That man observes all the rules of grammar and never uses slang,” said ane girl. "Yes," replied the other. “Hasn't he got the regular Boston dialect!”

Palm Reading.

Perkins—So you offered Daisy your hand? And what did she say? Algy—She looked at my thumb and said I lacked will power; then she looked at my finger nails and said I’d never have any money because there were no white spots on them, and then she looked at my life line and said it was too long.—Judge.

Vicarious Prevarication.

Mißtress—-I hope you are habitually truthful, Norah? New Girl—l am on me own account, mum. I only tells lies to the callers for the family.

The Indications.

Phrenologist —You are a gunman. Customer (indignantly)—l’m nothing of the sort! Phrenologist—Don’t deny it I can tell it by your bullet head.

The Suitable One.

“Do you know what bank I could borrow from to get funds for my new airship T “I don't know of any more suitable one than a bank of clouds.”

An Unlucky Strike,

Grins —I heard this morning that your uncle struck natural gas. It it true? Groans—-Something like that. He married a widow last week who had talked three husbands to death, and she’s not forty, yet. ' ; -

A Proof.

“There is one Justification for giving vessels the feminine gender.”- w, “What is that?” * * “They are always trimming their •aOs.” ‘

EXCHANGE OF TROUBLES.

“Jones has found a cure for tir* trouble.” “Eh! What’s that?" “He’s bought a motorboat"

Remember.

Here’s something, ere you start to talk. To ponder on a minute: An empty wagon rattles more Than one with something In it

The Installment Plan.

"Is Dubwaite still figuring on buying a motor car?” “No.” "He decided not to Mvest in a car. then?” - "Oh, he bought a car, all right, but the man who sold It to him is doing the figuring now."

Moses and the Tablets.

"What was the matter with Moses, pop?” asked the small son of a physician. “Why do you ask?” queried the father. ? “Our Sunday school teacher said God gave him two tablets of stone," replied the youngster,, "and I wondered what ailed him.”

Not So Commendable.

“The Gadoby make you feel quite at home in their house.” “An admirable trait.’’ "Not in their case." “No?" “Their way of making you feel at home is to quarrel acrimoniously in your presence.”

Give Mother a Treat.

"I’m trying to get back to me poor old mother," whined the tramp. "She ain’t seen me face for ten long years.” “I believe you are speaking the truth,”' muttered the old gentleman. “Why don’t you wash it?”

More Coming.

Bacon —Don’t you think Flbbs tells some fish stories? Egbert—l should say he does, and he’s taking steps to teU more. “How so?” “He’s having a phonograph installed in the bouse.”

After the Honeymoon Slumped.

“You talk like an idiot,” angrily exclaimed the husband. “I know, dear,” calmly asserted his better two-thirds. “You see, I don’t want to take an unfair advantage of you.”

Neglected Computation.

“How do you account for the high cost of gasoline?" "Haven’t had time to think it over. Too busy hustling for the price of the gasoline.”

SORRY HE SPOKE.

Hubby— Sometimes I feel sure that I once sat on a throne and waved a scepter. Wifey—And now you are going to stand on the back porch and wave a rug beater.

Discreet.

Mrs. Exe —Your new maid seems very discreet. Mrs. Wye—lndeed she far She oven knocks on the closet doors before opening them.

Always.

tr that stingy little man that keeps running around and taking the ball away from everybody? He—That’s the referee, j i She—What side is he on? He —Oh; tie other side —always.—' Minnesota Minnehaha,