Морський вовк

Chapter 12

           Allmydayshadbeenpassedincomparativeignoranceoftheanimalityofman.Infact,Ihadknownlifeonlyinitsintellectualphases.BrutalityIhadexperienced,butitwasthebrutalityoftheintellectthecuttingsarcasmofCharleyFuruseth,thecruelepigramsandoccasionalharshwitticismsofthefellowsattheBibelot,andthenastyremarksofsomeoftheprofessorsduringmyundergraduatedays.

           Thatwasall.Butthatmenshouldwreaktheirangeronothersbythebruisingofthefleshandthelettingofbloodwassomethingstrangelyandfearfullynewtome.NotfornothinghadIbeencalled"Sissy"VanWeyden,Ithought,asItossedrestlesslyonmybunkbetweenonenightmareandanother.Anditseemedtomethatmyinnocenceoftherealitiesoflifehadbeencompleteindeed.Ilaughedbitterlytomyself,andseemedtofindinWolfLarsen’sforbiddingphilosophyamoreadequateexplanationoflifethanIfoundinmyown.

           AndIwasfrightenedwhenIbecameconsciousofthetrendofmythought.Thecontinualbrutalityaroundmewasdegenerativeinitseffect.Itbidfairtodestroyformeallthatwasbestandbrightestinlife.MyreasondictatedthatthebeatingThomasMugridgehadreceivedwasanillthing,andyetforthelifeofmeIcouldnotpreventmysouljoyinginit.AndevenwhileIwasoppressedbytheenormityofmysinforsinitwasIchuckledwithaninsanedelight.IwasnolongerHumphreyVanWeyden.IwasHump,cabin-boyontheschoonerGhost

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