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II

           

           Mytonehadaborrowedloudnessreverberatedfromtheheightoftheland.Severalvoicescriedouttogether:“Weareallondeck,sir.”

           Thenstillnessagain,withthegreatshadowglidingcloser,toweringhigher,withoutalight,withoutasound.SuchahushhadfallenontheshipthatshemighthavebeenabarkofthedeadfloatinginslowlyundertheverygateofErebus.

           “MyGod!Wherearewe?”

           Itwasthematemoaningatmyelbow.Hewasthunderstruck,andasitweredeprivedofthemoralsupportofhiswhiskers.Heclappedhishandsandabsolutelycriedout,“Lost!”

           “Bequiet,”Isaid,sternly.

           Heloweredhistone,butIsawtheshadowygestureofhisdespair.“Whatarewedoinghere?”

           “Lookingforthelandwind.”

           Hemadeasiftotearhishair,andaddressedmerecklessly.

           “Shewillnevergetout.Youhavedoneit,sir.Iknewit’dendinsomethinglikethis.Shewillneverweather,andyouaretooclosenowtostay.She’lldriftashorebeforeshe’sround.OhmyGod!”

           Icaughthisarmashewasraisingittobatterhispoordevotedhead,andshookitviolently.

           “She’sashorealready,”hewailed,tryingtotearhimselfaway.

           “Isshe?...Keepgoodfullthere!”

           “Goodfull,sir,”criedthehelmsmaninafrightened,thin,childlikevoice.

           Ihadn’tletgothemate’sarmandwentonshakingit.“Readyabout,doyouhear?Yougoforward”—shake—“andstopthere”—shake—“andholdyournoise”—shake—“andseethesehead-sheetsproperlyoverhauled”—shake,shake—shake.

           AndallthetimeIdarednotlooktowardsthelandlestmyheartshouldfailme.

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