His face was convulsed and white, his eyes were flashing, his clenched fists raised overhead.
"May God damn your soul to hell, Wolf Larsen, only hell's too good for you, you coward, you murderer, you pig!" was his opening salutation.
I was thunderstruck.

I looked for his instant annihilation.

But it was not Wolf Larsen's whim to annihilate him.

He sauntered slowly forward to the break of the poop, and, leaning his elbow on the corner of the cabin, gazed down thoughtfully and curiously at the excited boy.
And the boy indicted Wolf Larsen as he had never been indicted before.
The sailors assembled in a fearful group just outside the forecastle scuttle and watched and listened.

The hunters piled pell-mell out of the steerage, but as Leach's tirade continued I saw that there was no levity in their faces.