above, and the men’s excited faces were lit up and lost again in the gloom.
“What’s up?” The miner had made his way among them. “That bloody Asakawa; I’ll pound him to death,” he blurted out.
Early that morning the boss had received warning of the storm from the Maru, which was anchored about ten miles away. The message also said that if the boats were out they should be recalled immediately, Asakawa had said: “If we’re going to take notice of every little thing that comes along, do you think we’ll ever get finished with the job we came all the way to Kamchatka to do?” This information had leaked out through the wireless operator.
The first sailor to hear this had started to roar at the operator as if he had been Asakawa. “What does he think human lives are, anyway?”
“Human lives?”
“Yes.”
“But Asakawa never thinks of us fellows as human beings.”
The fisherman wanted to answer, but he was dumbfounded and just became red in the face. Then he had gone along to join his companions.
They stood there scowling but docile in spite of the excitement welling in them. One hand, whose father was out in the boats, hung round full of suspense on the outside of the ring.
Towards evening there was a great shouting from the bridge. The men below rushed up the companionway two steps at a time. Two boats had been sighted, drawing near. They had been
