thering in
groups to witness my exit. The strain was too great. I sometimes
thought my mind would give way under it--a meet thing on this ship of
madmen and brutes. Every hour, every minute of my existence was in
jeopardy. I was a human soul in distress, and yet no soul, fore or aft,
betrayed sufficient sympathy to come to my aid. At times I thought of
throwing myself on the mercy of Wolf Larsen, but the vision of the
mocking devil in his eyes that questioned life and sneered at it would
come strong upon me and compel me to refrain. At other times I seriously
contemplated suicide, and the whole force of my hopeful philosophy was
required to keep me from going over the side in the darkness of night.

Several times Wolf Larsen tried to inveigle me into discussion, but I
gave him short answers and eluded him. Finally, he commanded me to
resume my seat at the cabin table for a time and let the cook do my work.
Then I spoke frankly, telling him what I was enduring from Thomas
Mugridge because of the three days of favouritism which had been shown
me. Wolf Larsen regarded me with smiling eyes.

"So you're afraid, eh?" he sneered.

"Yes," I said defiantly and honestly, "I am afraid."

"That's the way with you fellows," he cried, half angrily,
"sentimentalizing about your immortal souls and afraid to die. At sight
of a sharp knife and a cowardly Cockney the clinging of life to life
overcomes all your fond foolishness. Why, my dear fellow, you will live
for ever. You are a god, and God cannot be killed. Cooky cannot hurt
you. You are sure of your resurrection. What's there to be afraid of?

"You have eternal life before you. You are a millionaire in immortality,
and a millionaire whose fortune cannot be lost, whose fortune is less
perishable than the stars and as lasting as space or time. It is
impossible for you to diminish your principal. Immortality is a thing
without beginning or end. Eternity is eternity, and though you die here
and now you will go on living somewhere else and hereafter. And it is
all very beautiful, this shaking off of the flesh and soaring of the
imprisoned spirit. Cooky cannot hurt you. He can only give you a boost
on the path you eternally must tread.

"Or, if you do not wish to be boosted just yet, why not boost Cooky?
According to your ideas, he, too, must be an immortal millionaire. You
cannot bankrupt him. His paper will always circulate at par. You cannot
diminish the l