I looked at my watch. It was twelve o’clock. My back was aching sorely,
and I felt extremely tired and hungry. And there on the deck was a
single stick of timber to show for a whole morning’s work. For the first
time I thoroughly realized the extent of the task before us. But I was
learning, I was learning. The afternoon would show far more
accomplished. And it did; for we returned at one o’clock, rested and
strengthened by a hearty dinner.
In less than an hour I had the maintopmast on deck and was constructing
the shears. Lashing the two topmasts together, and making allowance for
their unequal length, at the point of intersection I attached the double
block of the main throat-halyards. This, with the single block and the
throat-halyards themselves, gave me a hoisting tackle. To prevent the
butts of the masts from slipping on the deck, I nailed down thick cleats.
Everything in readiness, I made a line fast to the apex of the shears and
carried it directly to the windlass. I was growing to have faith in that
windlass, for it gave me power beyond all expectation. As usual, Maud
held the turn while I heaved. The shears rose in the air.
Then I discovered I had forgotten guy-ropes. This necessitated my
climbing the shears, which I did twice, before I finished guying it fore
and aft and to either side. Twilight had set in by the time this was
accomplished. Wolf Larsen, who had sat about and listened all afternoon
and never opened his mouth, had taken himself off to the galley and
started his supper. I felt quite stiff across the small of the back, so
much so that I straightened up with an effort and with pain. I looked
proudly at my work. It was beginning to show. I was wild with desire,
like a child with a new toy, to hoist something with my shears.
“I wish it weren’t so late,” I said. “I’d like to see how it works.”
“Don’t be a glutton, Humphrey,” Maud chided me. “Remember, to-morrow is
coming, and you’re so tired now that you can hardly stand.”
“And you?” I said, with sudden solicitude. “You must be very tired. You
have worked hard and nobly. I am proud of you, Maud.”
“Not half so proud as I am of you, nor with half the reason,” she
answered, looking me straight in the eyes for a moment with an expression
in her own and a dancing, tremulous light which I had not seen before and
which gave me a pang of quick delight, I know not why, for I did not
understand it. Then she dropped her eyes, to lift them again, laughing.
“If our friends could see us now,” she said. “Look at us. Have you ever
paused for a moment to consider our appearance?”
“Yes, I have considered yours, frequently,” I answered, puzzling over
what I had seen in her eyes and puzzled by her sudden change of subject.
“Mercy!” she cried. “And what do I look like, pray?”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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