Ralph Stock

“ He had been fully determined to run Ellis to earth, if it took a lifetime and necessitated far worse ordeals than a ship's hold, and now—the luck of it—the blind, bull-headed luck!
Sheddon wormed himself head foremost out of the ventilator and slid to the deck. With naked feet he passed noiselessly down the line of sleeping passengers, and knelt beside Ellis's mattress. If only his tuck would hold! If only—— Under the pillow his groping fingers closed on a section of bamboo.
"It's a wonderful world!" mused Sheddon, leaning back on his copra couch and staring into the odorous darkness. ”

“ The sight of the sail seemed to fill him with cold rage.
"See here," he threatened, shaking the marline-spike in Ellis's face, "you came in with me to run the engine, didn't you? Said you could run any old thing, didn't you?"
Ellis moistened his lips and nodded.
"And I believed you. You looked dirty enough, to me. Why have I dragged you along, nursed you like your own mother, when I could have had a man who can work his weight? Because you could run an engine. Well, run it. D'you get me?"
"The magneto——"
"Mag nothing!" Sheddon pointed the marline-spike accusingly at the lugsail. ”

“ The engine was a terrible affair of greasy iron held together with wire, sinnet, and rags. All Ellis knew about it was that if one dried the plugs, turned on petrol, and wrestled long enough with the crank-handle, risking a broken wrist from a backfire in the process, it went. It rocked and trembled on its bed, it threw off choking, blinding fumes, it made a noise like dumped scrap-iron, but it bad the surprising effect of propelling the Saluka through calm water at five knots. And now it bad broken down, and Sheddon paced the deck with the marline-spike in his hand. ”

“ Only one thing mattered, and that was Sneddon.
The eternal sun rose out of the mangroves, and in answer to ominious sounds of movement below, Ellis darted to the bulwarks and pretended to be studying the prospects of getting the motor-boat off the mud. A moment later Sneddon's bullet head appeared over the hatch coaming.
"Still fast?" he jerked out.
"Yes," said Ellis; "but I think——"
"There's a sight too much thinking aboard here," boomed Sneddon. "Why don't you get on with it?"
"But what can we do?"
"It's always 'What can we do?'" mimicked the other. "Ease her off." ”

“ At night, when it was hot, he carried his mattress on deck, and lay staring at the stars. A doctor at Nomi had told him to "sleep in the open air, if possible." He had not said why, but Ellis had a vague suspicion, and it filled him with a new alarm. He dreaded death with all the intensity of a weakling.
He had many companions at night. The deck and a hose at five o'clock in the morning are preferable to a cabin like an oven.
One night an extraordinary thing happened. There was a ventilator directly opposite the corner where Ellis lay, and the glow of a wired light shone upon the opening. ”

“ Ellis knew this to be true, and when the women had moved further up the coast, he waded into a knee-deep rock pool and thrust a stick through the gills of three dead fish.
Sheddon ate heartily that night. He always ate heartily. Ellis sat in the doorway of the guest-house, looking out to sea, every nerve in his body strung to snapping-point.
"Off your kai-kai?" bellowed Sheddon, washing down a mouthful of taro with another of "trade" whisky.
"Yes," said Ellis.
"Getting a bit sick of fish and bananas, myself," Sheddon admitted, "but a man must live. ”

“ A man—even a man sufficiently tough to survive burotu in the off-season—must breathe God's air occasionally, and it was only a matter of drawing himself up by the ventilator shaft cross-pieces. Thus argued Sheddon. ”

“ The longest-living author of this work died in 1962, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 61 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works. ”