Johansen called vainly for him to come down.

At any moment he was liable to be snapped off the gaff, but he was helpless with fright.

Wolf Larsen, walking up and down with Smoke and in conversation, took no more notice of him, though he cried sharply, once, to the man at the wheel: "You're off your course, my man! Be careful, unless you're looking for trouble!" "Ay, ay, sir," the helmsman responded, putting a couple of spokes down.
He had been guilty of running the _Ghost_ several points off her course in order that what little wind there was should fill the foresail and hold it steady.

He had striven to help the unfortunate Harrison at the risk of incurring Wolf Larsen's anger.
The time went by, and the suspense, to me, was terrible.

Thomas Mugridge, on the other hand, considered it a laughable affair, and was continually bobbing his head out the galley door to make jocose remarks.
How I hated him! And how my hatred for him grew and grew, during that fearful time, to cyclopean dimensions.