"_Lady Mine_ ahoy! Take me ashore! A thousand dollars if you take me
ashore!"

I waited, watching two men who stood by the wheel, one of them steering.
The other was lifting a megaphone to his lips. I did not turn my head,
though I expected every moment a killing blow from the human brute behind
me. At last, after what seemed centuries, unable longer to stand the
strain, I looked around. He had not moved. He was standing in the same
position, swaying easily to the roll of the ship and lighting a fresh
cigar.

"What is the matter? Anything wrong?"

This was the cry from the _Lady Mine_.

"Yes!" I shouted, at the top of my lungs. "Life or death! One thousand
dollars if you take me ashore!"

"Too much 'Frisco tanglefoot for the health of my crew!" Wolf Larsen
shouted after. "This one"--indicating me with his thumb--"fancies
sea-serpents and monkeys just now!"

The man on the _Lady Mine_ laughed back through the megaphone. The
pilot-boat plunged past.

"Give him hell for me!" came a final cry, and the two men waved their
arms in farewell.

I leaned despairingly over the rail, watching the trim little schooner
swiftly increasing the bleak sweep of ocean between us. And she would
probably be in San Francisco in five or six hours! My head seemed
bursting. There was an ache in my throat as though my heart were up in
it. A curling wave struck the side and splashed salt spray on my lips.
The wind puffed strongly, and the _Ghost_ heeled far over, burying her
lee rail. I could hear the water rushing down upon the deck.

When I turned around, a moment later, I saw the cabin-boy staggering to
his feet. His face was ghastly white, twitching with suppressed pain.
He looked very sick.

"Well, Leach, are you going for'ard?" Wolf Larsen asked.

"Yes, sir," came the answer of a spirit cowed.

"And you?" I was asked.

"I'll give you a thousand--" I began, but was interrupted.

"Stow that! Are you going to take up your duties as cabin-boy? Or do I
have to take you in hand?"

What was I to do? To be brutally beaten, to be killed perhaps, would not
help my case. I looked steadily into the cruel grey eyes. They might
have been granite for all the light and warmth of a human soul they
contained. One may see the soul stir in some men's eyes, but his were
bleak, and cold, and grey as the sea itself.

"Well?"

"Yes," I said.

"Say 'yes, sir.'"

"Yes, sir," I corrected.

"What is your name?"

"