Kitabı oku: «In the Misty Seas: A Story of the Sealers of Behring Strait», sayfa 10

"Down helm!" said Jordan. "Luff, if you can. Handy with the tackles there. Make sure of them."

The schooner swung round a trifle, the boat slewed, there was a crash, and she was lost in the shadow below the rail, while black darkness followed as the light went out. Hoarse shouts came out of it, men scurried here and there, and fell from the rail, then there was a rattle of blocks, and Appleby found himself floundering along the deck with panting men behind him and a rope in his hand. The boat they hove up was dropped into her nest, a seal or two flung out, and Jordan, who came forward with a lantern, shook his head as he glanced at her.

"Coming alongside that way is kind of expensive, but I guess you hadn't much choice just then," he said.

"No," said a man who stood, gasping still, with half-closed eyes in the lantern light. "We just had to fetch you the best way we could, and we'd have missed you sure while we tried to round her up to lee. She was 'bout half-swamped and all of us used up considerable."

In another few minutes the lads and most of the others went back into the hold and sat watching the last comers, who wasted no time in talking as they attacked the meal Brulée set before them. One of them, however, sat somewhat limply, and his face, which was tinged with grey, seemed drawn together. He ate nothing and only drank a little tea. Then as the others stretched out their long limbs towards the stove Donegal looked at Montreal.

"And what was it kept ye so long?" he said.

Montreal laughed softly, though the stamp of exhaustion was on his face. "Just the wind!" he said. "We was well away to leeward, and when we'd pulled 'bout a mile Tom there got a kind of kink inside him and had to let up. Then Siwash Bob sprung his oar, and we lost all we'd made the last hour while Tom got his wind again and I was fixing it. After that the boat began to take it in heavy and we had to stop to bale. There wasn't much left in us, and Tom was groaning awful when we heard the gun."

Niven stared at the speaker with a little wonder, and Appleby smiled, for the story was a singularly unimpressive narration of what they knew had been a grim struggle for life. Then Niven saw that Donegal was watching him, and became sensible of a faint embarrassment, for the sealer had an unpleasant habit of guessing what he was thinking.

"You and me could have told it better, Mainsail Haul," said he.

Niven flushed a trifle. He knew he could have made the story a good deal more effective, for there had been times when he had held the dormitory silent and expectant as he narrated some small feat of his at Sandycombe, but he had an unpleasant suspicion that this gift was apt to win its possessor derision rather than respect at sea, where the men who did things that would have formed a theme for an epic poem seemed reluctant to talk about them. Montreal, the sealer who under Providence owed his life to his splendid strength and valour, said nothing about the effort and almost superhuman strain, but only mentioned that they had sprung an oar and his comrade suffered from what he termed a kink inside him.

"Well," said Niven awkwardly, "it's a good while now since I told you anything at all."

"Sure," said Donegal, grinning. "'Tis since I've had the teaching av ye. But ye do not seem quite easy, Tom. Sit up while me and Mainsail Haul pull the clothes off ye."

The man grumbled and protested that there was nothing wrong with him, but Donegal worked on unheeding and shoved him by main force into his bunk.

"Now, you lie right there till I get something from Jordan that will fix you," said Stickine. "If he tries to get up, boys, one of you will sit on him!"

He came back presently with something in a can, and the man, who gulped down the contents, grinned.

"I guess it would take a kink with considerable grit in it to face another dose of that," he said, and turned his face, which was beaded with the damp of pain, from the light.

The others, however, seemed to know what he was suffering from and went on with their talk, while presently Appleby asked a question.

"What would have happened if we'd been blown ashore?" he said.

Stickine laughed a little. "Well," he said, "I don't quite know, but it's kind of likely the Indians would have taken their clubs to us. Anyway, it would have been a long while before we did any more sealing."

It took Appleby several more questions before he elicited much information, and what he got was not very plain to him. It, however, appeared that the seals which bred on the lonely beaches of the misty seas had been growing scarcer, and that one or two of the commanders of the gunboats sent to watch them had now and then exceeded their rights. Three miles to sea is the limit placed to a nation's authority, but it seemed from stories told in the Champlain's hold, boats had been chased when farther than that from land. The men were not very explicit, but Appleby surmised that reprisals were made now and then when a schooner's crew landed on forbidden beaches.

"Still," he said, "if you lose a day or two's sealing when a gunboat's about it means a good many dollars."

A little twinkle crept into Montreal's eyes. "It don't always," said he. "Here you are with the boats all out raking in the holluschackie, and a gunboat comes along. 'Clear out of this or I'll make you,' says her skipper. 'All right,' says you. It's so many seals he's doing me out of now, when he has no right to, and I'm going in to get them where it's easiest when he steams away."

Niven seemed a trifle astonished. "That's here," he said. "Do they do things the same way everywhere?"

There was a little grim laughter, and Montreal pointed towards the west. "No, sir," he said. "When you go where the Russian seals live there's no use for talking of any kind, because you can't understand each other, and you use the clubs. There's men I know have seen other things come in quite handy too. Now old man Harper of the Golden Horn – "

Donegal stopped him. "'Tis talking too much ye are, and, as everybody knows, Ned Jordan is a quiet man," he said. "'Tis curious tales Mainsail Haul will be telling the earl about us when he goes home."

"Let up!" said Niven. "I'm a sealer now, and I only want to know if any one tried to arrest the skipper wrongfully, what would he do?"

Donegal's eyes twinkled. "He would run away like a sensible man, or hide in the fog," he said.

"But if he couldn't, or there wasn't any fog?"

Donegal shook his head. "'Tis persistent ye are," he said. "Peace is a thing Ned Jordan's fond of, but if folks will not let him have it his fist is as big as most."

Nobody said anything further, but there was a curious little smile in the men's bronzed faces, and while Appleby endeavoured to kick his comrade in warning that it would not be desirable to ask any more questions there was a crash above.

"There," said Donegal, grabbing Brulée's shoulder. "'Tis your galley tore up by the roots."

"No," said Stickine. "I figure it's the water tank got adrift. We want a lashing on her before she goes right out through the bulwarks, boys."

They were out of the scuttle in another minute, and when he got on deck Appleby saw a big, black object drive against the mast. Before any one could seize it it had rolled aside again, and in another few moments struck the bulwarks with a heavy thud, for the Champlain was still lying hove to and lurching wildly. How they at last secured it the lads could not quite make out, for the big tank would have crushed the man who got between it and anything, but it was done, and as they were relashing it Jordan came up with a lantern.

"Heave her over, boys. She has started the rivets, and that's going to make trouble for us," he said.

They hove the tank the other side up, and Appleby saw that the skipper's face was grave as he lifted the cover off, but there was apparently no more to be done, and he went below with the other men.

"What did Jordan mean?" he said to one of them. "Of course it would be awkward to run short of water if we were far from land, but there is plenty within a few miles of us."

"Oh, yes," said the man dryly. "But it wouldn't be much use telling the folks ashore you'd only come for water and didn't want no seals. They'd be quite glad to get their hands on us, whatever brought us there!"

"But we can't do without it," said Niven.

"No," said the sealer. "Still, I wouldn't worry. When Ned Jordan's short of water it's quite likely he'll get it if there's any handy."

CHAPTER XIII
ON THE BEACH

It blew hard that night, and seeing there was no hope of sealing next day Jordan beat the Champlainslowly out to sea. He said nothing to any one until when noon came he called the men together.

"We want water, and there's plenty yonder," he said, pointing vaguely across the sea-tops that swung up under the rain. "Still, I don't know that we mightn't have some trouble getting it."

"When you tell us you're ready for it we'll bring that water off," said somebody.

Jordan nodded. "There'll be a big surf on the beaches, but you might do it unless somebody stopped you," he said. "They have a crowd of Aleuts on St. George, and I figure there's a gunboat hanging round somewhere handy. Well, now, if we went east to the Aleutians we could get all the water we wanted with less worry, but it would take us a while getting there, and every day means dollars."

"We'll take our chances at St. George," said Montreal.

"So long as you're willing!" said the skipper. "You've all got a stake in this deal, and I don't know that I'd like to help Mrs. Jordan keep house on nothing if I bring the schooner home without the skins. Still, if the Aleuts got you it's very few dollars you'd make sealing the next year or two."

He spoke slowly, and there was nothing to show that he was asking the men to do a perilous thing. Nor was there anything unusual in their answer returned by Montreal. "We're not sailing around here for pleasure. As soon as it's dusk you can run her in."

The rest of the day passed slowly with Appleby and Niven, but it came to an end at last, and when dusk was closing in the Champlain, under trysail and jib only, crept in towards the land. The sea ran behind her heaving, white-topped out of the gloom, for though there is no actual darkness up there at that season the haze that slid by before a nipping wind was thickened by the rain.

There was nothing now to be seen but the filmy vapours that whirled about them or heard but the splash of the sea, and Appleby wondered at the skipper's daring in running in for the land. At last, however, when the obscurity had grown almost impenetrable the lads heard a deep rumbling sound that came off to them faintly in long reverberations. They surmised it was the roar of surf on a rocky shore, but it was to windward instead of under their lee.

"We were to weather of the island, Stickine," said Appleby.

"Oh, yes," said the Canadian. "But there wouldn't be much left of the man who tried to land on that side of it, and Jordan's running under the lee of it now."

"But it's beastly thick, and we've scarcely seen the land since morning," said Niven.

Stickine laughed. "It's about six hours since I had a glimpse of it myself, but that don't count for much," he said. "Ned Jordan got a bearing, and he'd tell you right off what the schooner had made every tack. Tie him up with a sack round his head, and she'd be just where he wanted her when he brought her up. I guess we've 'bout got there now."

Almost as he spoke Jordan's voice rose up. "Jib to windward, and get the boats over soon as she loses way. Don't hang around a minute after you're through with the water."

"Will we take the rifles?" asked Stickine.

"One," said Jordan dryly. "If you fire quick twice I'll send off another boat to you, but you've got to remember I don't want to. We've nothing against the Americans just now, and I'm not going round looking for trouble with anybody."

They swung two boats over, and Appleby managed to slip on board one before he was noticed by anybody except Niven, who sprang into the last one as the men got the oars out.

The skipper's dark figure showed up for a moment as he looked down from the bulwarks of the rolling schooner.

"You're going for water, boys, and if you bring one holluschack along you'll take it right back ashore," he said. "That's quite plain?"

There was a murmur which did not suggest altogether willing obedience, but no one could mistake the little ring in Jordan's voice, and Stickine signed to the men.

"You heard him, boys? Now, stretch your backs," he said.

They had pulled a few strokes, and the schooner was melting into the haze astern when one of the men looked round.

"Who've we got there in the bows?" he asked.

Appleby, who had hoped to escape their notice for a while, told him. "I fancied my place was in this boat," he said.

"Well," said Stickine dryly, "if I'd seen you before you'd have gone right back with a run. Hello! have you got the other lad, Montreal?"

"Sure!" came back the answer, and Donegal laughed.

"There was no keeping them out," he said. "It would not take a minute to pitch them over."

"We'll try it next time," said Stickine. "Pull in along our wake, Montreal. It's not a nice beach to land on."

After that nobody said anything for a while, and only the splash of oars marked the passage of the boats. Appleby crouched aft on the floorings where he could see the men sway through the dimness above him, while another sound grew louder than the hoarse growl of the seas that seethed about the reefs. It was scarcely like anything he had heard before, though once it faintly resembled the whistling of scores of engines and then swelled into a roar. He surmised it was made by the seals.

"The rookery's just thick with the bulls," said somebody.

"Hold on," said Stickine. "I guess you're here to row, and any talking that's wanted will be done by me."

They lurched on, seeing nothing, into the haze, but Stickine appeared to know where he was heading for, and by the easier rise and fall Appleby guessed they were pulling closer in under the sheltered side of the island.

Still, it was evident by the dull booming sound which grew louder that the swell lapped round to leeward too, and there would be a difficulty in making a landing.

Suddenly, however, the men stopped rowing, and the splash and thud ceased astern, while Stickine sharply turned his head as another sound that none of them had expected to hear came out of the haze. It was a dull grind and a rattle that jarred through the roar of the surf, and then stopped again. Appleby recognized it, and surmised that it meant peril to all of them.

"A gunboat," said Stickine half-aloud. "They're giving her more chain."

They lay on their oars a minute, staring about them and breathing hard, but could only see the sliding haze, and no sound that suggested man's presence in those misty waters reached them now.

"She's to windward. They wouldn't have heard us, boys," said Stickine quietly.

They went on, the oars splashing softly, while they strained their eyes, knowing that it was quite possible the gunboat's officers had gone ashore, and they might blunder upon her cutter. Still, there was no sound but that the seals made and the swelling roar of surf, until a wavy strip of whiteness heaved against the mist in front of them. Then Stickine laughed curiously as he turned his head and stared at the haze.

"I don't know if we'll find a cutter on the beach, but we have got to get the water, and we are going in," he said.

He gave no instructions, and they were apparently not needed, for the men knew their work, and while they bent to their oars a sea that frothed a little swung them high and carried them inshore. When they sank down on the back of it the one behind grew steeper and the boat seemed driven forward by an unseen force as she swept up on its crest. This happened several times, and then a great rattling of pebbles came out of the spray ahead and the last rush was almost bewildering. Then there was a crash, and the foam that seethed about her lapped into the boat, but the men sprang over knee-deep in water, and whipped her out, while almost before they realized that they had got there the lads found themselves standing on dry land. The men who had pulled the boats up were, however, already shouldering little wooden kegs.

"You'll stop right here with the lads," said Stickine, turning to two of them. "Get the boats down as far as you can if you hear us coming back in a hurry. Now, boys, we'll get a move on."

In another minute the men had started, and the lads watched them flounder over the shingle and up a misty slope, until they faded into the dim background and the patter of their footsteps was lost in the growling of the seas. Then they sat down beside Donegal in the shelter of the boat, though the other man stood upright at her bows. There was a chilly wind, and now and then the uproar the seals made, rolled about them. It was also very lonely, and Niven shivered as he crawled closer beneath the boat and wished he was back in the snug hold of the schooner.

"How will they know where to find the water?" he asked at last.

Charley, the man who stood up, laughed. "That," he said, "is quite easy. You see, Stickine has been here before."

"But you don't always damage your water tank, and Jordan wouldn't let them kill the seals," said Appleby.

Donegal nodded. "'Tis as inquisitive as Mainsail Haul ye are," he said. "Now, Ned Jordan never took a dollar that didn't belong to him from any one, and he's carrying no score against the Americans just now."

"Still, you or Montreal told me they'd tried to stop him sealing," said Niven.

"Oh, yes," said Charley. "That's just what they did, but you've heard Donegal. Ned Jordan don't let his debts run on, and he don't like anybody else to owe him anything."

"But from his way of looking at it the Americans owed him a good deal," persisted Appleby.

Donegal laughed. "They don't now, and when Ned Jordan has got what was owing him he don't want any more," he said. "'Tis the man that's never contented who gets into throuble."

This was not very clear, but Appleby fancied he understood, because there was only one way in which Jordan could have paid himself. Appleby was, however, by no means sure that what Jordan had done was altogether warranted, but that was for him to decide, and the lad had already surmised that a man must relinquish his rights or enforce them by the means that came handiest in the misty seas. In the meanwhile, the skipper had been kind to him, and the excitement of the life they led appealed to him. Turning to Niven he laughed a little.

"I wonder what your father would think if he heard we were taken to Alaska in handcuffs for seal poaching, Chriss," he said.

"Well," said Niven dryly, "I hope we're not going to be, and I don't quite think he'd find it so amusing as you seem to fancy. There's not much use in talking that kind of rot!"

They said no more for a little, and Appleby felt inclined to regret his speech. It called up unpleasant reflections, for he had more than a suspicion that the thing he had mentioned might very readily come about.

There were, he had been told, well-armed Aleut Indians on the island, and not far away a gunboat lay hidden in the haze. If Jordan grew impatient and fired his gun the prospect of escape seemed very small for any of them. By and by he turned to Donegal as the din the seals made vibrated about them.

"Do they make that uproar always, and what do they do it for?" he said.

"They'll go on another month, and this is the way av it," said Donegal. "The seals are lying as thick as herrings in the rookery, and 'tis more room every bull is wanting to bring up his family in, while the place that seems nicest to him is just the one his neighbour is lying in. Sure, they're just like men, and when ye hear one roaring he's looking savage at the big fellow that's crowding too near and wondering if he's able to tear the hide off him."

Niven laughed a little. "I never heard of a man wondering if he could do that," he said.

"Then," said Donegal dryly, "'tis a curiosity that is not unknown in Ireland. Is it lambs ye are at the English schools, my son? – Ye do not see them, Charley?"

"No," said the other man, and while they waited the roar of the sea seemed to grow louder and the wind colder, and unpleasant misgivings began to creep upon the lads as they wondered what was happening behind them in the mist. It seemed quite possible that Stickine had blundered into the Aleuts' clutches or that a body of the gunboat's bluejackets had been sent ashore. Charley, however, laughed when Appleby mentioned it.

"It kind of strikes me we'd have heard them," he said. "There would be a circus before they corralled Stickine."

At last the sound of footsteps became faintly audible, and a line of men came out of the haze. They were panting as they floundered down hill under their burdens, and a few moments later Stickine gasped as he laid the breaker he carried into the boat.

"It's 'bout time we were out of this, boys. Heave her off," he said.

They went down the beach at a floundering run as a sea seethed in, splashed knee-deep with the pebbles ringing and rattling under them, and sprang on board just in time to get the oars out before another white-topped slope of water came hissing out of the mist.

"Shove her through!" roared Stickine. "Pull the buttons off you, boys!"

The oars bent as the men swung backwards, there was a plunge and a thud, and seething froth swept about the boat. It splashed into her to their ankles, and then, while Appleby plied the baler, swept away behind, and the boat flung her bows high to meet another comber. They went over this one more dryly, and drawing out from the surf pulled as noiselessly as possible, straining eyes and ears for any sign of the gunboat. There was none, however, and at last, tired with the long pull over the steep heave of sea, they came up with the schooner. It appeared astonishing to Appleby that they had found her, and while he watched the dark hull reel on the long slopes of water he wondered how they would ever get the breakers on board her. The sealers, however, were used to doing even more difficult things, and it was accomplished while the boats swung in towards the schooner, and then off into the fog again. As soon as they were on board Stickine drew the skipper aside.

"There was a gunboat lying 'bout abreast of the head when we were pulling in," he said.

"Then do you figure she isn't there now?" said Jordan.

"I don't know," said Stickine. "Any way, we couldn't see her, and it wasn't quite thick all the time."

Jordan nodded as he said, "We'll have the mainsail on her and the boom foresail, boys."

In five minutes the trysail was below, and though it was blowing tolerably fresh the Champlain was thrashing out to windward under all her lower sail. Two men stood forward in the whirling spray, and Jordan staring to windward through his glasses on the house, but for at least half-an-hour there was nothing visible but the whirling fog and long tumbling seas. Then a man swung up his arm, and Appleby gasped as something blacker than the vapours slid out of the fog. It was not far away to windward and coming on swiftly, for as he watched it the white froth about the shadowy hull grew into visibility, and he held his breath a minute as he made out a funnel and two slanted spars. Black and dark, with no light about her and ominous in her silence, the gunboat lay across their course.

There was, however, no sign of either confusion or consternation, and Jordan's voice was quieter than usual.

"Up helm. Off with the mainboom, boys," he said.

Stickine pulled over the wheel, the long mainboom swung out amidst a rattle of blocks, and the Champlain came round, until instead of sailing close hauled to it she was running before the wind.

"Topsails," said Jordan. "Yard-headers. He hasn't got us yet."

There was no controverting that, but while Appleby knew the pace the Champlain could make when hard pressed it seemed almost impossible that she could out-sail a steamer. Still, the skipper's quiet voice was curiously reassuring, and he remembered that Stickine had told him there were two ways of winning a race. In the meanwhile the gaff topsails went up banging, and the foam was flying white when they were sheeted home. Then the men stood still about the rail, each busy with the unasked question – Had the commander of the gunboat seen them? The Champlain's stern was towards him now, and her mainsail alone would be visible with her masts in line.

They had not, however, long to wait for an answer, for suddenly a blaze of light drove through the haze and smote the straining canvas. Then it sank a little, forcing up the men's set faces and lighting all the deck.

For a moment or two the lads could see every one of them sharp and clear in the dazzling brilliancy, and then there was a bewildering darkness again, for the light went out. The gunboat had also gone with it, and they were once more alone in the fog.

"Seen us sure!" said Stickine.

Jordan laughed softly. "Running!" he said. "She'll not come round with him as we did. Let her come up. Boys, we'll have all sheets in."

In came the mainboom, the foresail and jibs were hauled in too, and the schooner's lee rail was swept by the frothing brine when she came up once more close-hauled to the wind. Still, Appleby wondered, for the gunboat was to windward of them, and Niven, who stood close by him, turned to one of the men to ask a question.

"We're going back straight towards the American?" he said.

The sailor seemed to chuckle. "We're going where she was, but she'll be somewhere else just now," he said. "When they've brought her round they'll steam after us the way they saw us going before the wind, and we're pinched right up within 'bout three and a half points of it. It would take a very smart man to get in ahead of Ned Jordan."

Niven laughed excitedly, for, remembering Lawson's lesson on board the Aldebaran and what he had been taught since, the manoeuvre was now plain to him. If the gunboat steamed away before the wind it was evident that as they were heading at a very small angle to it the vessels would be sailing in almost opposite directions, and there only remained the unpleasant uncertainty whether the pursuer would find them with her light again. Still, the Champlain was driving to windward very fast and the haze was thick.

"What did he switch his light off for?" asked Appleby.

"Well," said the sealer, "I don't figure he did. Seems more likely that something went wrong with it."

Others were doubtless wondering over the same point, for the men were still looking astern, and at last a faint silvery beam moved athwart the fog and then swept back again. Appleby fancied Jordan laughed as he came down from the house and stood by the wheel.

"That fellow's easily fooled. He's going right away to leeward as fast as they can shove her along, and the only thing that's worrying me is the mainmast head," he said. "'Pears to me we wrung it a little in the race with the Belle."

Almost as he spoke the Champlain put her bows in, and the deck was flooded ankle-deep with icy brine, while the lads could understand the skipper's misgivings as they glanced up at the big topsail and long gaff that stretched out the great mainsail's head. It was not difficult to see that the strain they put upon the mast must be considerable.

Stickine nodded from the wheel. "We've got to carry on and take our chances now," he said.

"Oh, yes," said Jordan. "Anyway, for another hour or so."

The time, however, had not passed when as the Champlain swung her bows out of a sea there was a sharp crack overhead, and almost simultaneously Jordan's voice followed it.

"Drop your gaff topsail and get the mainsail off her quick," he said.

Nobody lost any time, and there were many willing hands. In a few minutes the long boom was lying on the quarter and the Champlain jogging slowly to windward with the trysail only on her mainmast. Jordan did not appear by any means disturbed.

"I don't figure that fellow will find us again to-night, and we'll see what's wrong up there when daylight comes," he said. "You'll find me below, Stickine, if you're wanting me."

Then, except those who were needed for the watch, the men crawled below, and the Champlain rolled on into a thicker wisp of fog.