Get up."

But Haggart does not answer and the sailor mutters:

"Noni is drunk and he sleeps. Let him sleep. Oh, what a cold night it
is. There isn't enough warmth in it even to warm your nose. I am cold.
I feel cold and lonesome, Noni. I can't drink like that, although
everybody knows I am a drunkard. But it is one thing to drink, and
another to drown in gin--that's an entirely different matter. Noni--you
are like a drowned man, simply like a corpse. I feel ashamed for your
sake, Noni. I shall drink now and--"

He rises, and staggering, finds an unopened bottle and drinks.

"A fine wind. They call this a storm--do you hear, Noni? They call this
a storm. What will they call a real storm?"

He drinks again.

"A fine wind!"

He goes over to the window and, pushing aside the corner of the sail,
looks out.

"Not a single light on the sea, or in the village. They have hidden
themselves and are sleeping--they are waiting for the storm to pass.
B-r-r, how cold! I would have driven them all out to sea; it is mean to
go to sea only when the weather is calm. That is cheating the sea. I am
a pirate, that's true; my name is Khorre, and I should have been hanged
long ago on a yard, that's true, too--but I shall never allow myself
such meanness as to cheat the sea. Why did you bring me to this hole,
Noni?"

He picks up some brushwood, and throws it into the fireplace.

"I love you, Noni. I am now going to start a fire to warm your feet. I
used to be your nurse, Noni; but you have lost your reason--that's true.
I am a wise man, but I don't understand your conduct at all. Why did you
drop your ship? You will be hanged, Noni, you will be hanged, and I will
dangle by your side. You have lost your reason, that's true!"

He starts a fire, then prepares food and drink.

"What will you say when you wake up? 'Fire.' And I will answer, 'Here it
is.' Then you will say, 'Something to drink.' And I will answer, 'Here
it is.' And then you will drink your fill again, and I will drink with
you, and you will prate nonsense. How long is this going to last? We
have lived this way two months now, or perhaps two years, or twenty
years--I am drowning in gin--I don't understand your conduct at all,
Noni."

He drinks.

"Either I have lost my mind from this gin, or a ship is being wrecked
near by. How they are crying!"

He looks out of the window.

"No, no one is here. It is the wind. The wind feels weary, and it plays
all by itself. It