the weather on the upper decks there was only one
who watched with grim indifference the fury of the hurricane. The
fiercer the wind blew, the angrier grew the ocean, the higher rose
Armitage's spirits. When the tremendous seas began to break over the
vessel, the stoker exulted. He was still among the ventilators where
Bill had left him, not having had time to retreat before the storm
broke. Caught by the first rush of wind, he was hurled violently against
an iron stanchion and knocked senseless. When he came to, he found
himself clinging desperately to a rail, with the hurricane blowing right
over him. The force of the wind was inconceivable. He tried to stagger
to his feet and resist it, but he could not move. The atmosphere was
full of a rushing, irresistible force which suffocated him. The rain,
driven with merciless violence, blinded him. He could neither breathe
nor see. His ears were deafened by the unearthly screeching of the wind
and the constant roar of the waves. A flash rent the surrounding
blackness. He caught a glimpse of the water convulsed in a fury, the
decks below swept by foaming seas, the ship's officers and crew running
excitedly about.

It flashed upon him suddenly that the steamer was in danger, yet,
instead of making him tremble with apprehension, the thought stirred
within him a thrill of savage exultation. Why should he care? Only those
who enjoyed life had reason to recoil from death. What joys did life
hold out to him? He could never redeem the past. He was tired of the
struggle. He had knocked about the world long enough. He would be
discharged on the steamer's return to port, and it would be hard, if not
impossible, to find another job. Luck was certainly against him. What
was the use of bucking against one's luck? It would be as well to have
done with it all. A jump into the sea, a moment's choking and
involuntary struggle with the waves, and all would be over. His jaws
closed with a click, and a hard expression came into his eyes. If this
was to be the end of all his hardships and suffering, at least he would
not go alone. Those first-cabin passengers, with their dainty frocks and
fastidious manners--they would have to take the same watery road as he.
The rich and the poor, the happy and the wretched--all are equal in the
presence of Death. And as each second the hurricane increased in fury,
and the ship plunged more heavily, he had a sense of savage joy as, in
his mind, he pictured the f