r sailed the
seas.

BEN (_solemnly_). Aye.

THE STEWARD. The two years we all signed up for are done this
day. Blessed Christ! Two years o' this dog's life, and no luck in
the fishin', and the hands half starved with the food runnin'
low, rotten as it is; and not a sign of him turnin' back for
home! (_Bitterly_) Home! I begin to doubt if ever I'll set foot on
land again. (_Excitedly_) What is it he thinks he's goin' to do?
Keep us all up here after our time is worked out till the last
man of us is starved to death or frozen? We've grub enough hardly
to last out the voyage back if we started now. What are the men
goin' to do 'bout it? Did ye hear any talk in the fo'c's'le?

BEN (_going over to him--in a half-whisper_). They said if he don't
put back south for home to-day they're goin' to mutiny.

THE STEWARD (_with grim satisfaction_). Mutiny? Aye, 'tis the only
thing they can do; and serve him right after the manner he's
treated them--'s if they weren't no better nor dogs.

BEN. The ice is all broke up to s'uth'rd. They's clear water's
far's you can see. He ain't got no excuse for not turnin' back
for home, the men says.

THE STEWARD (_bitterly_). He won't look nowheres but no'th'rd where
they's only the ice to see. He don't want to see no clear water.
All he thinks on is gittin' the ile--'s if it was our fault he
ain't had good luck with the whales. (_Shaking his head_) I think
the man's mighty nigh losin' his senses.

BEN (_awed_). D' you really think he's crazy?

THE STEWARD. Aye, it's the punishment o' God on him. Did ye hear
ever of a man who wasn't crazy do the things he does? (_Pointing
to the door in rear_) Who but a man that's mad would take his
woman--and as sweet a woman as ever was--on a stinkin' whalin'
ship to the Arctic seas to be locked in by the rotten ice for
nigh on a year, and maybe lose her senses forever--for it's sure
she'll never be the same again.

BEN (_sadly_). She useter be awful nice to me before--(_his eyes
grow wide and frightened_) she got--like she is.

THE STEWARD. Aye, she was good to all of us. 'T would have been
hell on board without her; for he's a hard man--a hard, hard
man--a driver if there ever was one. (_With a grim laugh_) I hope
he's satisfied now--drivin' her on till she's near lost her mind.
And who could blame her? 'T is a God's wonder we're not a ship
full of crazed people--with the damned ice all the time, and the
quiet so thick you're afraid to hear your