Although he did not comprehend it, he apprehended it no less poignantly than do men who know and generalize far more deeply and widely than mere four-legged dogs.Īs a man struggles in the throes of nightmare, so Jerry struggled in the vexed, salt-suffocating sea.
Yet it was there, shouting its message of warning through every tissue cell, every nerve quickness and brain sensitivity of him-a totality of sensation that foreboded the ultimate catastrophe of life about which he knew nothing at all, but which, nevertheless, he felt to be the conclusive supreme disaster. He, who had never known the time when he was not alive, could not conceive of the time when he would cease to be alive. As regarded himself, he did not comprehend death. And then, in the loneliness of the dark, on the heaving breast of the sea that he recognized as one more of the eternal enemies, he began to whimper and cry plaintively like a lost child.įurther, by the dim, shadowy ways of intuition, he knew his weakness in that merciless sea with no heart of warmth, that threatened the unknowable thing, vaguely but terribly guessed, namely, death. But quickly all sounds died away as the Arangi drifted from him.
At recognition of Skipper’s voice, Jerry, floundering in the stiff and crisping sea that sprang up with the easement of the wind, yelped eagerly and yearningly, all his love for his new-found beloved eloquent in his throat.
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