Dance Me to the End of Love

Dance Me to the End of Love
Evening Mood painting
female nude reclining
flaming june painting
'It's the bloody mate!' was Leach's crafty answer. The words were strained from him in a smothered sort of way. ¡¡¡¡This was greeted with whoops of joy, and from then on Wolf Larsen had seven strong men on top of him, Louis, I believe, taking no part in it. The forecastle was like an angry hive of bees. ¡¡¡¡'What's the row there?' I heard Latimer shout down the scuttle, too cautious to descend into the inferno. ¡¡¡¡'Won't somebody get a knife?' Leach pleaded in the first interval of comparative silence. ¡¡¡¡The number of the assailants was a cause of confusion. They blocked their own efforts, while Wolf Larsen, with but a single purpose, achieved his. This was to fight his way across the floor to the ladder. Though in total darkness, I followed his progress by its sound. No man less than a giant could have done what he did, once he had gained the foot of the ladder. Step by step, by the might of his arms, the whole pack of men striving to drag him back and down, he drew his body up from the floor till he stood erect. And then, step by step, hand and foot, he slowly struggled up the ladder.