our own sake try
to avoid witnessing, as much as you can, the brutalities of the ship. It
will make it easier for you to act your part."

"I am to lie," she said in steady, rebellious tones, "by speech and
action to lie."

Wolf Larsen had separated from Latimer and was coming toward us. I was
desperate.

"Please, please understand me," I said hurriedly, lowering my voice.
"All your experience of men and things is worthless here. You must begin
over again. I know,--I can see it--you have, among other ways, been used
to managing people with your eyes, letting your moral courage speak out
through them, as it were. You have already managed me with your eyes,
commanded me with them. But don't try it on Wolf Larsen. You could as
easily control a lion, while he would make a mock of you. He would--I
have always been proud of the fact that I discovered him," I said,
turning the conversation as Wolf Larsen stepped on the poop and joined
us. "The editors were afraid of him and the publishers would have none
of him. But I knew, and his genius and my judgment were vindicated when
he made that magnificent hit with his 'Forge.'"

"And it was a newspaper poem," she said glibly.

"It did happen to see the light in a newspaper," I replied, "but not
because the magazine editors had been denied a glimpse at it."

"We were talking of Harris," I said to Wolf Larsen.

"Oh, yes," he acknowledged. "I remember the 'Forge.' Filled with pretty
sentiments and an almighty faith in human illusions. By the way, Mr. Van
Weyden, you'd better look in on Cooky. He's complaining and restless."

Thus was I bluntly dismissed from the poop, only to find Mugridge
sleeping soundly from the morphine I had given him. I made no haste to
return on deck, and when I did I was gratified to see Miss Brewster in
animated conversation with Wolf Larsen. As I say, the sight gratified
me. She was following my advice. And yet I was conscious of a slight
shock or hurt in that she was able to do the thing I had begged her to do
and which she had notably disliked.

CHAPTER XXIII

Brave winds, blowing fair, swiftly drove the _Ghost_ northward into the
seal herd. We encountered it well up to the forty-fourth parallel, in a
raw and stormy sea across which the wind harried the fog-banks in eternal
flight. For days at a time we could never see the sun nor take an
observation; then the wind would sweep the face of the ocean clean, the
waves wou