But when I get to San Fran----. Say,
captain, how long will it take to get there, and how long before you
start?"
Enoch and I exchanged glances, and Enoch answered: "We wa'n't goin' to
"Frisco."
"Around the Horn, then?" inquired the stranger, sitting up. "But you
will land me in 'Frisco, won't you? I can't wait, I must--"
"We're goin' _in_," said Enoch; "goin' north, for a three-years'
cruise."
"North!" shouted the stranger, wildly. "Three years in that hell of ice.
Three years! My God! North! North!"
He was dancing around the deck like a maniac, trying to put his
pack-loop over his head. Enoch went toward him, to tell him how he
could go on the "Enchantress," but he looked wildly at him, ran forward
and sprang out on the bowsprit, and from there to the jib. Enoch saw he
was out of his mind, and ordered two sailors to bring him in. As they
sprang on to the bow, he stood up and screamed:
"No! No! No! Three years! Three lives! Three hells! I never--"
One of the men reached for him here, but he kicked at the sailor
viciously, and turning sidewise, sprang into the water below.
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