Besides, you know, we can't hurt Johnson's soul.

It's only the fleeting form we may demolish." It seemed centuries--possibly it was no more than ten minutes that the beating continued.

Wolf Larsen and Johansen were all about the poor fellow.

They struck him with their fists, kicked him with their heavy shoes, knocked him down, and dragged him to his feet to knock him down again.

His eyes were blinded so that he could not see, and the blood running from ears and nose and mouth turned the cabin into a shambles.
And when he could no longer rise they still continued to beat and kick him where he lay.
"Easy, Johansen; easy as she goes," Wolf Larsen finally said.
But the beast in the mate was up and rampant, and Wolf Larsen was compelled to brush him away with a back-handed sweep of the arm, gentle enough, apparently, but which hurled Johansen back like a cork, driving his head against the wall with a crash.