ength of his living by killing him, for he is without
beginning or end. He's bound to go on living, somewhere, somehow. Then
boost him. Stick a knife in him and let his spirit free. As it is, it's
in a nasty prison, and you'll do him only a kindness by breaking down the
door. And who knows?--it may be a very beautiful spirit that will go
soaring up into the blue from that ugly carcass. Boost him along, and
I'll promote you to his place, and he's getting forty-five dollars a
month."

It was plain that I could look for no help or mercy from Wolf Larsen.
Whatever was to be done I must do for myself; and out of the courage of
fear I evolved the plan of fighting Thomas Mugridge with his own weapons.
I borrowed a whetstone from Johansen. Louis, the boat-steerer, had
already begged me for condensed milk and sugar. The lazarette, where
such delicacies were stored, was situated beneath the cabin floor.
Watching my chance, I stole five cans of the milk, and that night, when
it was Louis's watch on deck, I traded them with him for a dirk as lean
and cruel-looking as Thomas Mugridge's vegetable knife. It was rusty and
dull, but I turned the grindstone while Louis gave it an edge. I slept
more soundly than usual that night.

Next morning, after breakfast, Thomas Mugridge began his whet, whet,
whet. I glanced warily at him, for I was on my knees taking the ashes
from the stove. When I returned from throwing them overside, he was
talking to Harrison, whose honest yokel's face was filled with
fascination and wonder.

"Yes," Mugridge was saying, "an' wot does 'is worship do but give me two
years in Reading. But blimey if I cared. The other mug was fixed
plenty. Should 'a seen 'im. Knife just like this. I stuck it in, like
into soft butter, an' the w'y 'e squealed was better'n a tu-penny gaff."
He shot a glance in my direction to see if I was taking it in, and went
on. "'I didn't mean it Tommy,' 'e was snifflin'; 'so 'elp me Gawd, I
didn't mean it!' 'I'll fix yer bloody well right,' I sez, an' kept right
after 'im. I cut 'im in ribbons, that's wot I did, an' 'e a-squealin'
all the time. Once 'e got 'is 'and on the knife an' tried to 'old it.
'Ad 'is fingers around it, but I pulled it through, cuttin' to the bone.
O, 'e was a sight, I can tell yer."

A call from the mate interrupted the gory narrative, and Harrison went
aft. Mugridge sat down on the raised threshold to the galley and went on
with his knife-sharpe