it a second time for Maud to send me. I discovered that
we stood in need of condensed milk and marmalade, and announced that I
was going aboard. I could see that she wavered. She even went so far as
to murmur that they were non-essentials and that my trip after them might
be inexpedient. And as she had followed the trend of my silence, she now
followed the trend of my speech, and she knew that I was going aboard,
not because of condensed milk and marmalade, but because of her and of
her anxiety, which she knew she had failed to hide.

I took off my shoes when I gained the forecastle head, and went
noiselessly aft in my stocking feet. Nor did I call this time from the
top of the companion-way. Cautiously descending, I found the cabin
deserted. The door to his state-room was closed. At first I thought of
knocking, then I remembered my ostensible errand and resolved to carry it
out. Carefully avoiding noise, I lifted the trap-door in the floor and
set it to one side. The slop-chest, as well as the provisions, was
stored in the lazarette, and I took advantage of the opportunity to lay
in a stock of underclothing.

As I emerged from the lazarette I heard sounds in Wolf Larsen's
state-room. I crouched and listened. The door-knob rattled. Furtively,
instinctively, I slunk back behind the table and drew and cocked my
revolver. The door swung open and he came forth. Never had I seen so
profound a despair as that which I saw on his face,--the face of Wolf
Larsen the fighter, the strong man, the indomitable one. For all the
world like a woman wringing her hands, he raised his clenched fists and
groaned. One fist unclosed, and the open palm swept across his eyes as
though brushing away cobwebs.

"God! God!" he groaned, and the clenched fists were raised again to the
infinite despair with which his throat vibrated.

It was horrible. I was trembling all over, and I could feel the shivers
running up and down my spine and the sweat standing out on my forehead.
Surely there can be little in this world more awful than the spectacle of
a strong man in the moment when he is utterly weak and broken.

But Wolf Larsen regained control of himself by an exertion of his
remarkable will. And it was exertion. His whole frame shook with the
struggle. He resembled a man on the verge of a fit. His face strove to
compose itself, writhing and twisting in the effort till he broke down
again. Once more the clenched fists went