itics we agree famously," I laughed.

"And as shipwright and able assistant," she laughed back.

But there was little time for laughter in those days, what of our heavy
work and of the awfulness of Wolf Larsen's living death.

He had received another stroke. He had lost his voice, or he was losing
it. He had only intermittent use of it. As he phrased it, the wires
were like the stock market, now up, now down. Occasionally the wires
were up and he spoke as well as ever, though slowly and heavily. Then
speech would suddenly desert him, in the middle of a sentence perhaps,
and for hours, sometimes, we would wait for the connection to be
re-established. He complained of great pain in his head, and it was
during this period that he arranged a system of communication against the
time when speech should leave him altogether--one pressure of the hand
for "yes," two for "no." It was well that it was arranged, for by
evening his voice had gone from him. By hand pressures, after that, he
answered our questions, and when he wished to speak he scrawled his
thoughts with his left hand, quite legibly, on a sheet of paper.

The fierce winter had now descended upon us. Gale followed gale, with
snow and sleet and rain. The seals had started on their great southern
migration, and the rookery was practically deserted. I worked
feverishly. In spite of the bad weather, and of the wind which
especially hindered me, I was on deck from daylight till dark and making
substantial progress.

I profited by my lesson learned through raising the shears and then
climbing them to attach the guys. To the top of the foremast, which was
just lifted conveniently from the deck, I attached the rigging, stays and
throat and peak halyards. As usual, I had underrated the amount of work
involved in this portion of the task, and two long days were necessary to
complete it. And there was so much yet to be done--the sails, for
instance, which practically had to be made over.

While I toiled at rigging the foremast, Maud sewed on canvas, ready
always to drop everything and come to my assistance when more hands than
two were required. The canvas was heavy and hard, and she sewed with the
regular sailor's palm and three-cornered sail-needle. Her hands were
soon sadly blistered, but she struggled bravely on, and in addition doing
the cooking and taking care of the sick man.

"A fig for superstition," I said on Friday morning. "That mast goes in