Wolf Larsen stooped, coolly, to the Cockney, and pressed with thumb and finger at the rear of the jaws and below the ears.
The jaws opened with reluctance, and Wolf Larsen stepped free.
"As I was saying," he went on, as though nothing unwonted had happened, "the shark was not in the reckoning.

It was--ahem--shall we say Providence ?" She gave no sign that she had heard, though the expression of her eyes changed to one of inexpressible loathing as she started to turn away.
She no more than started, for she swayed and tottered, and reached her hand weakly out to mine.

I caught her in time to save her from falling, and helped her to a seat on the cabin.

I thought she might faint outright, but she controlled herself.
"Will you get a tourniquet, Mr.Van Weyden," Wolf Larsen called to me.
I hesitated.

Her lips moved, and though they formed no words, she commanded me with her eyes, plainly as speech, to go to the help of the unfortunate man.