and Johnson save on the _Ghost_, and they resolutely
began the windward beat. It was slow work in the heavy sea that was
running. At any moment they were liable to be overwhelmed by the hissing
combers. Time and again and countless times we watched the boat luff
into the big whitecaps, lose headway, and be flung back like a cork.

Johnson was a splendid seaman, and he knew as much about small boats as
he did about ships. At the end of an hour and a half he was nearly
alongside, standing past our stern on the last leg out, aiming to fetch
us on the next leg back.

"So you've changed your mind?" I heard Wolf Larsen mutter, half to
himself, half to them as though they could hear. "You want to come
aboard, eh? Well, then, just keep a-coming."

"Hard up with that helm!" he commanded Oofty-Oofty, the Kanaka, who had
in the meantime relieved Louis at the wheel.

Command followed command. As the schooner paid off, the fore- and
main-sheets were slacked away for fair wind. And before the wind we
were, and leaping, when Johnson, easing his sheet at imminent peril, cut
across our wake a hundred feet away. Again Wolf Larsen laughed, at the
same time beckoning them with his arm to follow. It was evidently his
intention to play with them,--a lesson, I took it, in lieu of a beating,
though a dangerous lesson, for the frail craft stood in momentary danger
of being overwhelmed.

Johnson squared away promptly and ran after us. There was nothing else
for him to do. Death stalked everywhere, and it was only a matter of
time when some one of those many huge seas would fall upon the boat, roll
over it, and pass on.

"'Tis the fear iv death at the hearts iv them," Louis muttered in my ear,
as I passed forward to see to taking in the flying jib and staysail.

"Oh, he'll heave to in a little while and pick them up," I answered
cheerfully. "He's bent upon giving them a lesson, that's all."

Louis looked at me shrewdly. "Think so?" he asked.

"Surely," I answered. "Don't you?"

"I think nothing but iv my own skin, these days," was his answer. "An'
'tis with wonder I'm filled as to the workin' out iv things. A pretty
mess that 'Frisco whisky got me into, an' a prettier mess that woman's
got you into aft there. Ah, it's myself that knows ye for a blitherin'
fool."

"What do you mean?" I demanded; for, having sped his shaft, he was
turning away.

"What do I mean?" he cried. "And it's you that asks me! 'Tis not what