A Man to His Mate Page 11

  CHAPTER XI

  HONEST SIMMS

  Lund greeted Rainey with a curt nod. Hansen was still at the helm. Thecrew on duty were standing about alert, their eyes on Lund. They hadfound a new master, and they were cowed, eager to do their best.

  "It ain't noon yet," said Lund. "I hardly need to shoot the sun with theland that close."

  Rainey looked over the starboard bow to where a series of peaks andlower humps of dark blue proclaimed the Aleutian island bridgestretching far to the west.

  "I'll show this crew they've got a skipper aboard," said Lund. "How'sthe cap'en?"

  Rainey told him.

  "We'll see what we can do for him," said Lund. "He's better off withoutthat fakir, that's a cinch. Called me a murderer," he went on with agood-humored laugh. "Got spunk, she has. And she's a trim bit. A slip ofa gal, but she's game. An' good-lookin' eh, Rainey?"

  He shot a keen glance at the newspaperman.

  "You're in her bad hooks, too, ain't ye? We'll fix that after a bit. Shedon't know when she's well off. Most wimmin don't. An' she's the sortthat needs handlin' right. She's upset now, natural, an' she hates me."

  He smiled as if the prospect suited him. A suspicion leaped intoRainey's brain. Lund had said he would not see a decent girl harmed. Butthe man was changed. He had fought and won, and victory shone in hiseyes with a glitter that was immune from sympathy, for all his air ofgood-nature.

  He had said that a man under his skin was just an animal. His appraisalof the girl struck Rainey with apprehension. "To the victor belong thespoils." Somehow the quotation persisted. What if Lund regarded the girlas legitimate loot? He might have talked differently beforehand, toassure himself of Rainey's support.

  And Rainey suddenly felt as if his support had been uncalled upon, afrail reed at best. Lund had not needed him, would he need him, save asan aid, not altogether necessary, with Hansen aboard, to run the ship?

  He said nothing, but thrust both hands into the side pockets of thepilot coat he had acquired from the ship's stores. The sudden touch ofcold steel gave him new courage. He had sworn to protect the girl. IfLund, seeming more like a pirate than ever, with his cold eyes sweepingthe horizon, his bulk casting Rainey's into a dwarf's by comparison,attempted to harm Peggy Simms, Rainey resolved to play the part ofchampion.

  He could not shoot like Lund, but he was armed. There were undoubtedlymore cartridges in the clip. And he must secure the rest from Carlsen'scabin immediately.

  The sun reached its height, and Lund busied himself with his sextant.Rainey determined to ask him to teach him the use of it. His consent orrefusal would tell him where he stood with Lund.

  He felt the mastery of the man. And he felt incompetent beside him.Carlsen had been right. A ship at sea was a little world of its own, andLund was now lord of it. A lord who would demand allegiance and enforceit. He held the power of life and death, not by brute force alone. Hewas the only navigator aboard, with the skipper seriously ill. As suchalone he held them in his hand, once they were out of sight of land.

  "Hansen," said Lund, "Mr. Rainey'll relieve you after we've eaten. Comeon, Rainey. You ain't lost yore appetite, I hope. Watch me discard thatspoon for a knife an' fork. I don't have to play blind man enny longer."

  Food did not appeal to Rainey. He could not help thinking of the spotunder the cloth where Tamada had wiped up the blood of the man justkilled by Lund, sitting opposite him, making play for a double helpingof victuals.

  It was Lund's apparent callousness that affected him more than his ownsqueamishness. He could not regret Carlsen's death. With the doctoralive, his own existence would have been a constant menace. But he wasnot used to seeing a killing, though, in his water-front detail, he hadnot been unacquainted with grim tragedies of the sea.

  It was Lund's demeanor that gripped him. The giant had dismissed Carlsenas unceremoniously as he might have flipped the ash from a cigar, ortossed the stub overside.

  "I've got to tackle those hunters," Lund said. "I expect trouble there,sooner or later. But I'm goin' to lay down the law to 'em. If they comeclean, well an' good, they git their original two shares. If not, theydon't get a plugged nickel. An' Deming's the one who'll stir up thetrouble, take it from me. Tell Hansen to turn in his watch-off, I shan'ttake a deck for a day or two, you'll have to go on handlin' it betweenyou. I've got to make my peace with the gal, an' do what I can with theskipper."

  "She'll not make peace easily. But the skipper's in a bad way."

  Lund lit his pipe.

  "I'd jest as soon it was war. I don't see as we can help the skippermuch 'less we try reverse treatment of what Carlsen did. If we knew whatthat was? If he gits worse she'll let us know, I reckon. Mebbe you cansuggest somethin'?"

  Rainey shook his head.

  "I suppose she can do more than any of us," he said.

  Lund nodded, then whistled to Tamada, leaving the cabin.

  "Take a bottle of whisky to the hunters' mess, with my compliments.That'll give 'em about three jolts apiece," he said to Rainey. "Long aswe've won out we may as well let 'em down easy. But they'll work fortheir shares, jest the same. A drink or two may help 'em swaller whatI'm goin' to give 'em by way of dessert in the talkin' line. See youlater."

  Rainey took the dismissal and went up to the relief of Hansen. He didnot mention what had happened until the Scandinavian referred to itindirectly.

  "They put the doc overboard, sir, soon's Mr. Lund an' you bane gobelow."

  It seemed a summary dismissal of the dead, without ceremony. Yet, forthe rite to be authentic, Lund must have presided, and the sea-burialservice would have been a mockery under the circumstances. It was thebest thing to have done, Rainey felt, but he could not avoid a mentalshiver at the thought of the man, so lately vital, his brain alive withenergy, sliding through the cold water to the ooze to lie there, sodden,swinging with the sub-sea currents until the ocean scavengers claimedhim.

  "All right, Hansen," he said in answer, and the man hurried off afterhis extra detail.

  Lund came up after a while, and Rainey told him of the fate of Carlsen'sbody.

  "I figgered they'd do about that," commented Lund. "They savvied he'daimed to make suckers out of 'em, an' they dumped him. But they ain't onour side, by a long sight. Not that I give a damn. If they want to sulk,let 'em sulk. But they'll stand their watches, an', when we git to thebeach, they'll do their share of diggin'. If they need drivin', I'lldrive 'em.

  "That Deming is a better man than I thought. He's the main grouch among'em. Said if I hadn't had a gun he'd have tackled me in the cabin. Meantit, too, though I'd have smashed him. He's sore becoz I said he warn'tmy equal. I told him, enny time he wanted to try it out, I'd accommodatehim. He didn't take it up, an' they'll kid him about it. He'll pack agrudge. I ain't afraid of their knifin' me, not while the skipper'ssick. They need me to navigate."

  "This might be a good chance for me to handle a sextant," suggestedRainey casually.

  Lund shook his head, smiling, but his eyes hard.

  "Not yet, matey," he said. "Not that I don't trust you, but for me to bethe only one, jest now, is a sort of life insurance that suits me tocarry. They might figger, if you was able to navigate, that they c'udput the screws on you to carry 'em through, with me out of the way. Idon't say they could, but they might make it hard for you, an' you ain'tgot quite the same stake in this I have."

  Here was cold logic, but Rainey saw the force of it. Hansen came upearly to split the watch and put their schedule right again, and Lundwent below with Rainey. Lund ordered Tamada to bring a bottle andglasses, and they sat down at the table. Rainey needed the kick of adrink, and took one.

  As Lund was raising his glass with a toast of "Here's to luck," theskipper's door opened and the girl appeared. She looked like a ghost.Her hair was disheveled and her eyes stared at them without seemingrecognition. But she spoke, in a flat toneless voice.

  "My father is dead! I--" she faltered, swayed, and seemed to swoon asshe sank toward the floor. Rainey darted
forward, but Lund was quickerand swooped her up in his arms as if she had been a feather, took her tothe table, set her in a chair, dabbled a napkin in some water andapplied it to her brows.

  "Chafe her wrists," he ordered Rainey. "Undo that top button of herblouse. That's enough; she ain't got on corsets. She'll come through.Plumb worn out. That's all."

  He handled her, deftly, as a nurse would a child. Rainey chafed theslender wrists and beat her palms, and soon she opened her eyes andsighed. Then she pulled away from Lund, bending over her, and got to herfeet.

  "I must go to my father," she said. "He is dead."

  They followed her into the cabin, and Lund bent over the bunk.

  "Looks like it," he whispered to Rainey. Then he tore open the skipper'svest and shirt and laid his head on his chest. The girl made a faintmotion as if to stop him, but did not hinder him. She was at the end ofher own strength from weariness and worry. Lund suddenly raised hishead.

  "There's a flutter," he announced. "He ain't gone yit. Get Tamada an'some brandy."

  The Japanese, by some intuition, was already on hand, and produced thebrandy. Rainey poured out a measure. The captain's teeth were tightlyclenched. Lund spraddled one great hand across his jaws, pressing attheir junction, forcing them apart, firmly, but gently enough, whileRainey squeezed in a few drops of brandy from the corner of his soakedhandkerchief. Lund stroked the sick man's throat, and he swallowedautomatically.

  "More brandy," ordered Lund.

  With the next dose there came signs of revival, a low moan from theskipper. The girl flew to his side. Tamada, standing by with thebottle, stepped forward, handed the brandy to Rainey, and rolled up thelid of an eye, looking closely at the pupil.

  "I study medicine at Tokio," he said.

  "Why didn't ye say so before?" demanded Lund. It did not occur to any ofthem to doubt Tamada's word. There was an air of professional assuranceand an efficiency about him that carried weight. "What can you do forhim? There's a medicine chest in Carlsen's room."

  "I was hired to cook," said Tamada quietly. "I should not have beenpermit to interfere. It is not my business if a white man makes a foolof himself. Now we want morphine and hypodermic syringe."

  Tamada rolled up the captain's sleeve. The flesh, shrunken, pallid, wasclosely spotted with dot-like scars that showed livid, as if the captainhad been suffering from some strange rash.

  Lund whistled softly. Rainey, too, knew what it meant. The skipper hadbeen a veritable slave to the drug. Carlsen had administered it,prescribed it, used it as a means to bring Simms under his subjection.The girl looked strangely at Tamada.

  "Would he have taken that for sciatica?" she asked.

  "I think, perhaps, yes. Injection over muscle gives relief. Sometimesmakes cure. But Captain Simms take too much. Suppose this supply cut offvery suddenly, then come too much chills, maybe collapse, maybe--" Thegirl clutched his arm.

  "You meant more than you said. It might mean death?"

  "I don't know," replied Tamada gravely. "Perhaps, if now we havemorphine, presently we give him smaller dose every time, it will be allright." He lifted up the sick man's hand and examined the nailscritically. They were broken, brittle.

  Rainey had gone to Carlsen's room in search of the drug and theinjecting needle.

  "How much d'ye suppose he took at once?" Lund asked the Japanese in alow voice.

  "Fifteen grains, I think. Maybe more. Too much! Always too much drug inhis veins. Much worse than opium for man."

  "Carlsen's work," growled Lund. "Increased the stuff on him till hecouldn't do without it. Made him a slave to dope an' Carlsen his boss.He deserved killin' jest for that, the skunk."

  Rainey frantically searched through the medicine chest and, finding onlyfive tablets marked _Morphine 1 gr._ in a bottle, sought elsewhere invain. And he could find no needle. But he ran across some automaticcartridges and put them in his pockets before he hurried back.

  "This is not enough," said Tamada. "And we should have needle. But Idissolve these in galley." And he hurried out. The girl had slipped downon her knees beside the bed, holding her father's hand against her lips,her eyes closed. She seemed to be praying.

  Rainey and Lund looked at each other. Rainey was trying to recallsomething. It came at last, the memory of Carlsen slipping something inhis pocket as he had come out of the captain's room. That had been thehypodermic case! As the thought lit up' his eyes he saw a flash inLund's.

  "Carlsen had the morphine on him," said Lund in a whisper, not todisturb the girl.

  "And the needle!" said Rainey. "What if?" He raced out of the cabinforward, passing Tamada, coming out of the galley with the dissolvedtablets in a glass that steamed with hot water. Swiftly he told hissuspicions.

  "They may have searched him first," he said, and went on to the hunters'cabin. They were seated about their table, talking. On seeing Raineythey stopped abruptly and viewed him suspiciously. Deming rose.

  "What's the idea?" he asked and his tone was not friendly.

  Rainey hurriedly explained. Deming shrugged his shoulders.

  "They sewed him up in canvas in the fo'k'le," he said indifferently."None of us went through him. I think they made the kid do the job."

  Rainey found Sandy in his bunk, asleep, trying to get one of the catnapsby which he made up his lack of definitely assigned rest. The roustaboutwoke with a shudder, flinching under Rainey's hand.

  "They made me do it," he said in answer. "None of 'em 'ud touch it tillI had it sewed in an old staysail, an' a boatkedge tied on for weight. Ididn't go inter his pockets. I was scared to touch it more'n I had to."

  "Is that the truth, Sandy? I don't care what you took besides thislittle case and a bottle of tablets. You can keep the rest."

  "It's the bloody truth, Mister Rainey, s'elp me," whined Sandy. And thetruth was in his shifty eyes.

  Rainey went back with his news. He imagined that the five grains wouldprove temporarily sufficient. And they could put in for Unalaska. Therewere surgeons there with the revenue fleet. He thought there wasprobably a hospital.

  They would have to explain Carlsen's death. They would be asked aboutthe purpose of the voyage, the crew examined. It might mean detention,the defeat of the expedition, the very thing that Lund had feared, thefollowing of them to the island. He wondered how Lund would take to theplan.

  He found that Tamada had administered the morphine. Already thebeneficial results were apparent. The dry, frightfully sallow skin hadchanged and Simms was breathing freely while Tamada, feeling his pulse,nodded affirmatively to the girl's questioning glance.

  "Got it?" asked Lund.

  Rainey gave the result of his search.

  "We'll have to put in to Unalaska," he said. "There are doctors there."The girl turned toward Lund. He smiled at the intensity of her gaze andpose.

  "I play fair, Miss Peggy," he said. "Rainey, change the course."

  Peggy Simms seized Lund's great paw in both her hands, and, for thefirst time, the tears overflowed her eyes. The _Karluk_ came about asRainey reached the deck and gave his orders. Then he returned to thecabin. The captain had opened his eyes.

  "Peggy!" he murmured. "Carlsen, where is he? Lund! Good God, Lund, youcan see?"

  "Keep quiet as you can," said Tamada. Something in his voice made theskipper shift his look to the Japanese.

  "Where's Carlsen?" he asked again.

  "He can't come now," said Tamada.

  Under the urge of the drug the skipper's brain seemed abnormally clear,his intuition heightened.

  "Carlsen's dead?" he asked. Then, shifting to Lund. "You killed him,Jim?"

  Lund nodded.

  "How much morphine did you give me?"

  "Five grains."

  "It's not enough. It won't last. _There isn't any more?_" he flashedout, with sudden energy, trying to raise himself.

  "We're puttin' in for Unalaska, Simms," said Lund.

  "How far?"

  "'Bout seventy miles."

  "Then it's too late. Too
late. The pain's shifted of late--to my heart.It'll get me presently."

  The girl darted a look of hate at Lund, an accusation that he metcomposedly, swift as the change had come from the almost reverence withwhich she had clasped his hand.

  "I'll be gone in an hour or two," said the skipper. "Got to talk whilethis lasts. Jim--about leavin' you that time. I could have come back. Ihad words about it--with Hansen. He knows. But the gale was bad, an' theice. It wasn't the gold, Jim. I swear it. I had the ship an' crew tolook out for. An' Peggy, at home.

  "I might have gone back sooner, Jim, I'll own up to that. But it wasn'tthe gold that did it. An'--I didn't hear what you shouted, Jim. Thestorm came up. We were frozen by the time we found the ship. Numb.

  "Then, then; oh, God, my heart!" He sat upright, clutching at his chest,his face convulsed with spasms of pain. Tamada got some brandy betweenthe chattering teeth. Sweat poured out on the skipper's forehead, and hesank back, exhausted but temporarily relieved. The girl wiped his brows.

  "It'll get me next attack," he said presently in a weak voice. "Jim,this trouble hit me the day after we left the floe. Not sciatica, atfirst, but in the head. I couldn't think right. I was just numb in thebrain. An' when it cleared off, it was too late. The ice had closed. Wecouldn't go back. I read up in my medical book, Jim, later, when thesciatica took me.

  "Had to take to my bunk. Couldn't stand. I had morphine, an' it relievedme. Took too much after a while. Had to have it. Got better in SanFrancisco for a bit. Then Carlsen prescribed it. Morphine was my boss,an' then Carlsen, he was boss of the morphine. Seemed like--seemedlike--_More brandy, Tamada_."

  His voice was weaker when he spoke again. They came closer to catch hiswhispers.

  "Carlsen--mind wasn't my own. Peggy--I wasn't in my right mind,honey. Not when--Carlsen--he was angel when he gave me what Iwanted--devil--when he wouldn't. Made me--do things. But he's dead. AndI'm going. Never reach Unalaska. Peggy--forgive. Meant forbest--but--not in right mind. Jim--it wasn't the gold. Not Peggy'sfault--anyway."

  "She'll get hers, Simms," said Lund. "Yours too."

  The skipper's eyes closed and his frame settled under the clothes. Thegirl flung herself on the bed in uncontrollable weeping. Lund raised hiseyebrows at Tamada, who shrugged his shoulders.

  "Better get out o' here," whispered Lund. He and Rainey went outtogether. In a few minutes Tamada joined them, his face sphinxlike asever.

  "He is dead," he said.

  Rainey and Lund went on deck. The schooner thrashed toward the volcano,the bearing-mark for Unalaska, hidden behind it. They paced up and downin silence.

  "I guess he was 'Honest Simms,' after all," said Lund at last. "The galblames me for the morphine, but Carlsen never meant him to live. She'llsee that after a bit, mebbe."

  Rainey glanced at him curiously. He was getting fresh lights on Lund.

  Then the girl appeared, pale, composed, coming straight up to Lund, whohalted his stride at sight of her.

  "Will you change the course, Mr. Lund?" she said.

  He looked at her in surprise.

  "Father spoke once more. After you left. He does not want you to go onto Unalaska. He said it would mean a rush for the gold; perhaps youwould have to stay there. He does not want you to lose the gold. Hewants me to have my share. He made me promise. And he wants--hewants"--she bit her lip fiercely in repression of her feelings--"to beburied at sea. That was his last request."

  She turned and looked over the rail, struggling to wink back her tears.Rainey saw the giant's glance sweep over her, full of admiration.

  "As you wish, Miss Peggy," he said. "Hansen, 'bout ship. Hold on aminnit. How about you, Miss Peggy? If you want to go home, we can findways at Unalaska. I play fair. I'll bring back yore share--in full."

  "I am not thinking about the gold," the girl said scornfully. "But Iwant to carry out my father's last wishes, if you will permit me. Ishall stay with the ship. Now I am going back to him. You--you"--shequelled the tremble of her mouth, and her chin showed firm anddetermined--"you can arrange for the funeral to-morrow at dawn, if youwill. I want him to-night."

  Her face quivered piteously, but she conquered even that and walked tothe companionway.

  "Game, by God, game as they make 'em!" said Lund.