know? Eh? Wot 're you good for any'wy? Cawn't even carry a bit
of tea aft without losin' it. Now I'll 'ave to boil some more.

"An' wot 're you snifflin' about?" he burst out at me, with renewed rage.
"'Cos you've 'urt yer pore little leg, pore little mamma's darlin'."

I was not sniffling, though my face might well have been drawn and
twitching from the pain. But I called up all my resolution, set my
teeth, and hobbled back and forth from galley to cabin and cabin to
galley without further mishap. Two things I had acquired by my accident:
an injured knee-cap that went undressed and from which I suffered for
weary months, and the name of "Hump," which Wolf Larsen had called me
from the poop. Thereafter, fore and aft, I was known by no other name,
until the term became a part of my thought-processes and I identified it
with myself, thought of myself as Hump, as though Hump were I and had
always been I.

It was no easy task, waiting on the cabin table, where sat Wolf Larsen,
Johansen, and the six hunters. The cabin was small, to begin with, and
to move around, as I was compelled to, was not made easier by the
schooner's violent pitching and wallowing. But what struck me most
forcibly was the total lack of sympathy on the part of the men whom I
served. I could feel my knee through my clothes, swelling, and swelling,
and I was sick and faint from the pain of it. I could catch glimpses of
my face, white and ghastly, distorted with pain, in the cabin mirror.
All the men must have seen my condition, but not one spoke or took notice
of me, till I was almost grateful to Wolf Larsen, later on (I was washing
the dishes), when he said:

"Don't let a little thing like that bother you. You'll get used to such
things in time. It may cripple you some, but all the same you'll be
learning to walk.

"That's what you call a paradox, isn't it?" he added.

He seemed pleased when I nodded my head with the customary "Yes, sir."

"I suppose you know a bit about literary things? Eh? Good. I'll have
some talks with you some time."

And then, taking no further account of me, he turned his back and went up
on deck.

That night, when I had finished an endless amount of work, I was sent to
sleep in the steerage, where I made up a spare bunk. I was glad to get
out of the detestable presence of the cook and to be off my feet. To my
surprise, my clothes had dried on me and there seemed no indications of
catching cold, either