Never in his life had he withheld aid from one in extremity. And yet it seemed monstrously absurd—to drag a man back from death solely for the purpose of letting him do his best to kill you, the first chance that offered.
And he had more than himself to think for. Suppose he saved this wretched man, and was worsted by him later on, what of The Girl? She would have reason enough to blame his pusillanimity, and he himself would curse it with his last breath.
But was it fair fighting—to see your enemy in a hole and make no effort to save him? Old-time Chivalry would never even have argued the matter. It would have helped the enemy out, handed him his weapons, and courteously awaited the renewal of the combat. Ah—times were changed.... And this man was compound of treachery and malice.
Thoughts such as these whirled through his brain before he had covered the short space to the other ship.
"Wait here!" he said to The Girl, and climbed through the well-known hole in the side,—and she followed him close in spite of his frowning objection. She had not come thus far to be out of the critical moment.
He ran down to the cabin, and went straight to the mate's door. The dreadful sounds,—the shouts and yells and cries of fear, the furious oaths, the wild thumping blows—filled the cabin with horrors. Even in that anxious moment The Girl was cognisant of a dreary, dirty, repulsive look about it which had not been there before. It was more like the den of a wild beast than a living-room. Some of the silken hangings were torn down, the one or two that were left hung by single pegs. It looked as though a maniac had chased his mad fancies round the room and sought them behind the draperies.
Wulf, gripping his axe, opened the door into the passage, looked in, then went in. And The Girl drew near, to be at hand in case of need, and stood shuddering.
"Keep off! Keep off, ye blank-eyed deevils! —— —— ——! Wi' your bloody beaks and tearing claws.... Keep off! Keep off —— —— —— ye!" and the black fists, all bruised and bleeding, whirled and struck at the roof and sides of the bunk as he fought the birds the rum had bred in his brain. Then, as they beat him down in a pestiferous crowd, he gave a shrill scream and doubled himself over in a heap in his bunk, with his hands clasped over his head to save it from their attacks. Then up again, shouting and fighting for dear life, and down flat again with a scream, cowering in uttermost extremity of terror, while oaths dribbled out of him like water out of a spout.
Wulf came out and closed the door, and pushed her brusquely up the stairs to the deck.
"You should not have come down," he said sternly. "This is no place for you," and then, seeing how white her face was, he added more gently, "There is no danger—except to him. He is fighting for his life with the birds. I can do nothing for him—except get rid of all his rum. He would turn to it the moment he comes round, and it is poison in his present state."