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The Sea-Wolf

Chapter 8 

Word Count: 2596    |    Released on: 18/11/2017

had never arrived. And, finally, I was convinced that he was the perfect type of the primitive man, born a thousand years or generations too late, and an an

en to him, even the hunters, and as children he treated them, descending perforce to their level and playing with them as a man plays with puppies. Or else he prob

o stood onlooker and who understood. Concerning his own rages, I was convinced that they were not real, that they were sometimes experiments, but that in the main they were the habits of a pose or attitude he had seen fit to take t

twelve o'clock dinner was over, one day, and I had just finished putting the cabin in order, when Wolf Larsen and Thomas Mugridge descended the companion-stairs. Though the cook had a cu

n a pleased sort of voice. 'I might have guessed an Engl

sume the easy carriage of a man born to a dignified place in life, would have been sickening had they not been ludicrous. He quite ignored my presence, though I credited

they took seats at the table, 'and bring out the

ght be a gentleman's son gone wrong or something or other; also, that he was a remittance-man, and was paid to keep away

o bring the tumblers. These he filled two thirds full with undiluted whiskey,- 'a gentleman's drink,' quoth Thomas Mugridg

ily. The cook made repeated journeys to his bunk for money. Each time he performed the journey with greater swagger, but he never brought more than a few dollars at a time. He grew maudlin, familiar, could hardly see the cards or

glass, and, if anything, his glasses were fuller. There was no ch

and lost. Whereupon he leaned his head on his hands and wept. Wolf Larsen looked curiously at him, as though about to

help him up on deck. He is not feeling very well. And tell Johansen to douse h

the purpose. Mr. Mugridge was sleepily spluttering that he was a gentleman's son. But as I descende

was counting

ven,' he said aloud. 'Just as I thought.

ve won is mine, s

ied some grammar in my time, and I think your tenses are

ot of grammar, but of

ly a minute be

e strain of sadness, 'that this is the first time I have heard the word "ethics" in

f out of the place in life in which I had been born, and hold conversations and mingle with men who talked about just such things as ethics. And this is the

id. 'The fact is that

d. He seemed please

eal question,' I continue

of his mouth, 'I see you still belie

you- at all?

eself to be weak, or, better yet, it is pleasurable to be strong, because of the profits; painful to be weak, because of the penalties. just now the possession of this money is a p

me by withholdin

the interests of others. Don't you see? How can two particles of the yeast wrong each other by striving to devour each oth

t believe in al

ing, though he pondered it thoughtfully. 'Let me se

edge, was the acquirement of a self-read, self-educated man whom no one had directed in his studies, and who had thought much and talked little or not

yes, I remember it now. I

cried. 'Have

drums for many a day. I honestly could not understand what he was driving at. I put it down to mental deficiency on my part, but since then I have decided that it was for want of preparation. I ha

that altruism was imperative to his ideal of highest conduct. Wolf Larsen evidently had sifte

id you run ac

eech. I felt an elation of spirit. I was groping in his soul-stuff, as he made a practice of groping in the soul-stuff

a man must act for his own benefit- to do this is to be moral and good. Next, he must a

terjected, 'is that act which benefits at the

would be a paying business proposition. I might elevate my soul to all kinds of altitudes. But with nothing eternal before me but death, given for a brief spell this yeasty crawling and squirming which is called life, why, it would be immoral for me to perform any act that was a sacrifice. Any sacrifice that makes me lose one crawl

ualist, a materialist, an

smiled. 'But wh

ent when I had gi

ould not trust in the least thing where it was

ng to understand,' h

rly without what the

at's

hom to be al

the way t

of a snake, or a

d you know me as I am generally

, 'a Caliban who has pondered Setebos, and who ac

e did not understand, and I quickly

d it's pretty tough. I haven't got very far alo

over a second time, and a third. We fell into discussion- philosophy, science, evolution, religion. He betrayed the inaccuracies of the self-read man, and, it must be granted, the certitude and directness of the primitive mind. The very simplicity of his reasoning was its strength, and his materialism was

nxious, and when Thomas Mugridge glared down the companionway, sick and angry of

ght. I'm busy with Hump, and you'l

gridge waited on us and washed the dishes afterward- a whim, a Caliban-mood of Wolf Larsen's, and one I foresaw would bri

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