then, with dry
clothes for me.... And I had to drive her to shelter....

"And when there was not the storm, there was liquor; and they had cards.
We staked our shares in the catch that was to come.... Hour on hour,
dealing, and playing with few words; and our eyes burned hollow in their
sockets, and Quint's thin mouth twisted and writhed all the time like a
worm on a pin. He was a nervous man, for all his calm. A very nervous
man....

"The fifth day, one of the blacks stumbled in Quint's path, on deck.
Quint had been losing, at the cards. He slid a knife from his sleeve into
the man's ribs, and tipped the black over the rail without a word. I was
twenty feet away, and it was done before I could catch breath. I shouted;
and Quint turned and looked at me, and he smiled.

"'What is it?' he asked. 'Have you objections to present?' And the
smeared blade in his hand, and the bubbles still rising, overside. I was
afraid of the man, Joel. I tell you I was afraid. The only time. Fear's a
pagan joy, boy. It was like a new drink to me. I nursed it, eating it.
And I shook my head, humble.

"'No objections,' I said, to Quint. ''Tis your affair.'

"'That was my thought,' he agreed, and passed me, and went astern. I
stood aside to let him pass, and trembled, and laughed for the joy of my
fear.

"And then we came to the lagoon, and the blacks began to dive. Only the
two we had; and there was no sign of Islanders, ashore. But the water was
shallow, and we worked the men with knives, and they got pearls.
Sometimes one or two in a day; sometimes a dozen. Do you know pearls,
Joel? They're sweet as a woman's skin. I had never seen them, before. And
we all went a little mad over them....

"They made Fetcher hysterical. He laughed too much. They made Quint
morose. They made me tremble...."

He wiped his hand across his eyes, as though the memory wearied him; and
he moved his great shoulders, and looked at Joel, and laughed. "But it
could not last, in that fashion," he said. "It might have been anything.
It turned out to be the women. I said they seemed content. They did. But
that may be the way of the blacks. They have a happy habit of life; they
laugh easily....

"At any rate, we found one morning that Quint's girl was gone. She was
not on the schooner; and ashore, we found her tracks in the sand. She had
gone into the trees. And we beat the island, and we did not find her. And
Quint sweated. All that day.

"That night, he looke