and through, and twined and knotted
by the sea. I cut no more than was necessary, and what with passing the
long ropes under and around the booms and masts, of unreeving the
halyards and sheets, of coiling down in the boat and uncoiling in order
to pass through another knot in the bight, I was soon wet to the skin.

The sails did require some cutting, and the canvas, heavy with water,
tried my strength severely; but I succeeded before nightfall in getting
it all spread out on the beach to dry. We were both very tired when we
knocked off for supper, and we had done good work, too, though to the eye
it appeared insignificant.

Next morning, with Maud as able assistant, I went into the hold of the
_Ghost_ to clear the steps of the mast-butts. We had no more than begun
work when the sound of my knocking and hammering brought Wolf Larsen.

"Hello below!" he cried down the open hatch.

The sound of his voice made Maud quickly draw close to me, as for
protection, and she rested one hand on my arm while we parleyed.

"Hello on deck," I replied. "Good-morning to you."

"What are you doing down there?" he demanded. "Trying to scuttle my ship
for me?"

"Quite the opposite; I'm repairing her," was my answer.

"But what in thunder are you repairing?" There was puzzlement in his
voice.

"Why, I'm getting everything ready for re-stepping the masts," I replied
easily, as though it were the simplest project imaginable.

"It seems as though you're standing on your own legs at last, Hump," we
heard him say; and then for some time he was silent.

"But I say, Hump," he called down. "You can't do it."

"Oh, yes, I can," I retorted. "I'm doing it now."

"But this is my vessel, my particular property. What if I forbid you?"

"You forget," I replied. "You are no longer the biggest bit of the
ferment. You were, once, and able to eat me, as you were pleased to
phrase it; but there has been a diminishing, and I am now able to eat
you. The yeast has grown stale."

He gave a short, disagreeable laugh. "I see you're working my philosophy
back on me for all it is worth. But don't make the mistake of
under-estimating me. For your own good I warn you."

"Since when have you become a philanthropist?" I queried. "Confess, now,
in warning me for my own good, that you are very consistent."

He ignored my sarcasm, saying, "Suppose I clap the hatch on, now? You
won't fool me as you did in the lazarette."

"Wolf Larsen," I