Prev | Current Page 200 | Next

London, Jack

"The Sea-Wolf"

Leach stood their fears and reproaches for some time. Then he broke out:


? ? ? ? 'You make me tired! A nice lot of gazabas you are! If you talked less with yer mouth an' did something with yer hands, he'd 'a' be'n done with by now. Why couldn't one of you, just one of you, get me a knife when I sung out? You make me sick! A-beefin' an' bellerin' round as though he'd kill you when he gets you! You know he won't. Can't afford to. No shippin'-masters or beachcombers over here, an' he wants yer in his business, an' he wants yer bad. Who's to pull or steer or sail ship if he loses yer? It's me an' Johnson have to face the music. Get into yer bunks, now, and shut yer faces; I want to get some sleep.'


? ? ? ? 'That's all right, all right,' Parsons spoke up. 'Mebbe he won't do for us, but mark my words, hell'll be an ice-box to this ship from now on.'


? ? ? ? All the while I had been apprehensive. What would happen to me when these men discovered my presence? I could never fight my way out as Wolf Larsen had done. And at this moment Latimer called down the scuttle:


? ? ? ? 'Hump, the Old Man wants you.


Pages:
188 189 190 191 192 193 194 195 196 197 198 199 200 201 202 203 204 205 206 207 208 209 210 211 212