one
of the men who were murdered, had moral courage to an unusual degree. So
had the other man, Johnson. Not only did it not stand them in good
stead, but it destroyed them. And so with me if I should exercise what
little moral courage I may possess.

"You must understand, Miss Brewster, and understand clearly, that this
man is a monster. He is without conscience. Nothing is sacred to him,
nothing is too terrible for him to do. It was due to his whim that I was
detained aboard in the first place. It is due to his whim that I am
still alive. I do nothing, can do nothing, because I am a slave to this
monster, as you are now a slave to him; because I desire to live, as you
will desire to live; because I cannot fight and overcome him, just as you
will not be able to fight and overcome him."

She waited for me to go on.

"What remains? Mine is the role of the weak. I remain silent and suffer
ignominy, as you will remain silent and suffer ignominy. And it is well.
It is the best we can do if we wish to live. The battle is not always to
the strong. We have not the strength with which to fight this man; we
must dissimulate, and win, if win we can, by craft. If you will be
advised by me, this is what you will do. I know my position is perilous,
and I may say frankly that yours is even more perilous. We must stand
together, without appearing to do so, in secret alliance. I shall not be
able to side with you openly, and, no matter what indignities may be put
upon me, you are to remain likewise silent. We must provoke no scenes
with this man, nor cross his will. And we must keep smiling faces and be
friendly with him no matter how repulsive it may be."

She brushed her hand across her forehead in a puzzled way, saying, "Still
I do not understand."

"You must do as I say," I interrupted authoritatively, for I saw Wolf
Larsen's gaze wandering toward us from where he paced up and down with
Latimer amidships. "Do as I say, and ere long you will find I am right."

"What shall I do, then?" she asked, detecting the anxious glance I had
shot at the object of our conversation, and impressed, I flatter myself,
with the earnestness of my manner.

"Dispense with all the moral courage you can," I said briskly. "Don't
arouse this man's animosity. Be quite friendly with him, talk with him,
discuss literature and art with him--he is fond of such things. You will
find him an interested listener and no fool. And for y