for this change was quickly
learned by the hunters, and became the cause of a deal of grumbling on
their part. It seemed that Johansen, in his sleep, lived over each night
the events of the day. His incessant talking and shouting and bellowing
of orders had been too much for Wolf Larsen, who had accordingly foisted
the nuisance upon his hunters.

After a sleepless night, I arose weak and in agony, to hobble through my
second day on the _Ghost_. Thomas Mugridge routed me out at half-past
five, much in the fashion that Bill Sykes must have routed out his dog;
but Mr. Mugridge's brutality to me was paid back in kind and with
interest. The unnecessary noise he made (I had lain wide-eyed the whole
night) must have awakened one of the hunters; for a heavy shoe whizzed
through the semi-darkness, and Mr. Mugridge, with a sharp howl of pain,
humbly begged everybody's pardon. Later on, in the galley, I noticed
that his ear was bruised and swollen. It never went entirely back to its
normal shape, and was called a "cauliflower ear" by the sailors.

The day was filled with miserable variety. I had taken my dried clothes
down from the galley the night before, and the first thing I did was to
exchange the cook's garments for them. I looked for my purse. In
addition to some small change (and I have a good memory for such things),
it had contained one hundred and eighty-five dollars in gold and paper.
The purse I found, but its contents, with the exception of the small
silver, had been abstracted. I spoke to the cook about it, when I went
on deck to take up my duties in the galley, and though I had looked
forward to a surly answer, I had not expected the belligerent harangue
that I received.

"Look 'ere, 'Ump," he began, a malicious light in his eyes and a snarl in
his throat; "d'ye want yer nose punched? If you think I'm a thief, just
keep it to yerself, or you'll find 'ow bloody well mistyken you are.
Strike me blind if this ayn't gratitude for yer! 'Ere you come, a pore
mis'rable specimen of 'uman scum, an' I tykes yer into my galley an'
treats yer 'ansom, an' this is wot I get for it. Nex' time you can go to
'ell, say I, an' I've a good mind to give you what-for anyw'y."

So saying, he put up his fists and started for me. To my shame be it, I
cowered away from the blow and ran out the galley door. What else was I
to do? Force, nothing but force, obtained on this brute-ship. Moral
suasion was a thing unknown. Pi