Spring Breeze

Spring Breeze
Sweet Nothings
The Abduction of Psyche
The British Are Coming
losin' it. Now I'll 'ave to boil some more. ¡¡¡¡'An' wot're you snifflin' about?' he burst out at me with renewed rage. ''Cos you've 'urt yer pore little leg, pore little mama's darlin'!' ¡¡¡¡I was not sniffling, though my face might well have been drawn and twitching from the pain. But I called up all my resolution, set my teeth, and hobbled back and forth from galley to cabin, and cabin to galley, without further mishap. Two things I had acquired by my accident: an injured kneecap that went undressed and from which I suffered for weary months, and the name of 'Hump,' which Wolf Larsen had called me from the poop. Thereafter, fore and aft, I was known by no other name, until the term became a part of my thought processes and I identified it with myself, thought of myself as Hump, as though Hump were I and h