Chapter 3

           WolfLarsenceasedswearingassuddenlyashehadbegun.Herelightedhiscigarandglancedaround.Hiseyeschanceduponthecook.

           "Well,Cooky?"hebegan,withasuavenessthatwascoldandofthetemperofsteel.

           "Yes,sir,"thecookeagerlyinterpolated,withappeasingandapologeticservility.

           "Don’tyouthinkyou’vestretchedthatneckofyoursjustaboutenough?It’sunhealthy,youknow.Themate’sgone,soIcan’taffordtoloseyoutoo.Youmustbevery,verycarefulofyourhealth,Cooky.Understand?"

           Hislastword,instrikingcontrastwiththesmoothnessofhispreviousutterance,snappedlikethelashofawhip.Thecookquailedunderit.

           "Yes,sir,"wasthemeekreply,astheoffendingheaddisappearedintothegalley.

           Atthissweepingrebuke,whichthecookhadonlypointed,therestofthecrewbecameuninterestedandfelltoworkatonetaskoranother.Anumberofmen,however,whowereloungingaboutacompanion-waybetweenthegalleyandhatch,andwhodidnotseemtobesailors,continuedtalkinginlowtoneswithoneanother.These,Iafterwardlearned,werethehunters,themenwhoshottheseals,andaverysuperiorbreedtocommonsailor-folk.

           "Johansen!"WolfLarsencalledout.Asailorsteppedforwardobediently."Getyourpalmandneedleandsewthebeggarup.You’llfindsomeoldcanvasinthesail-locker.Makeitdo."

           "What’llIputonhisfeet,sir?"themanasked,afterthecustomary"Ay,ay,sir."

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