Fantastic as the situation was,--a land-lubber second in command,--I was, nevertheless, carrying it off well; and during that brief time I was proud of myself, and I grew to love the heave and roll of the _Ghost_ under my feet as she wallowed north and west through the tropic sea to the islet where we filled our water-casks.
But my happiness was not unalloyed.

It was comparative, a period of less misery slipped in between a past of great miseries and a future of great miseries.

For the _Ghost_, so far as the seamen were concerned, was a hell-ship of the worst description.

They never had a moment's rest or peace.

Wolf Larsen treasured against them the attempt on his life and the drubbing he had received in the forecastle; and morning, noon, and night, and all night as well, he devoted himself to making life unlivable for them.
He knew well the psychology of the little thing, and it was the little things by which he kept the crew worked up to the verge of madness.