So violently did the _Ghost_, pitch and toss and tumble that it was impossible for even the sailors to move about without holding on, and several times, after a cry of "Now she takes it!" we were heaped upon the wall of the port cabins as though it had been the deck.
"To hell with a look-out," I heard Wolf Larsen say when we had eaten and drunk our fill.

"There's nothing can be done on deck.

If anything's going to run us down we couldn't get out of its way.

Turn in, all hands, and get some sleep." The sailors slipped forward, setting the side-lights as they went, while the two hunters remained to sleep in the cabin, it not being deemed advisable to open the slide to the steerage companion-way.

Wolf Larsen and I, between us, cut off Kerfoot's crushed finger and sewed up the stump.