Then they ate sea-weed when their
provisions failed, and their legs swelled, and their leader, the
red-haired man, killed two rowers who mutinied, and after a year
spent among the woods they set sail for their own country, and a
wind that never failed carried them back so safely that they all
slept at night. This and much more Charlie told. Sometimes the
voice fell so low that I could not catch the words, though every
nerve was on the strain. He spoke of their leader, the red-haired
man, as a pagan speaks of his God; for it was he who cheered them
and slew them impartially as he thought best for their needs; and it
was he who steered them for three days among floating ice, each
floe crowded with strange beasts that "tried to sail with us," said
Charlie, "and we beat them back with the handles of the oars."
The gas-jet went out, a burned coal gave way, and the fire settled
down with a tiny crash to the bottom of the grate. Charlie ceased
speaking, and I said no word.
"By Jove!" he said, at last, shaking his head. "I've been staring at
the fire till I'm dizzy.
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