"I wished merely to prepare you for the worst, if the worst is to come.

This man, this captain, is a brute, a demon, and one can never tell what will be his next fantastic act." I was growing excited, but she interrupted me with an "Oh, I see," and her voice sounded weary.

To think was patently an effort.

She was clearly on the verge of physical collapse.
She asked no further questions, and I vouchsafed no remark, devoting myself to Wolf Larsen's command, which was to make her comfortable.

I bustled about in quite housewifely fashion, procuring soothing lotions for her sunburn, raiding Wolf Larsen's private stores for a bottle of port I knew to be there, and directing Thomas Mugridge in the preparation of the spare state-room.
The wind was freshening rapidly, the _Ghost_ heeling over more and more, and by the time the state-room was ready she was dashing through the water at a lively clip.