Part 6

“You—you’re not threatening, cappy?” said George.

“Not at all. I am merely asking you to see this thing from our point of view.”

“‘Our? Our point of view?’ You’re not one of the crew are you, cappy?”

Brack did not reply.

“What shall it be, Mr. Chanler?” he said curtly. “Petroff Sound or Kalmut Fiord?”

Chanler looked once more at the crew. He had no special reason for going to Petroff Sound, but as he saw himself defied by his servants a flare of anger showed in his eyes.

“This may not be mutiny, but it is —— insolent, cappy,” said he. “I can’t say I like it at all.”

Garvin laughed. Chanler, looking at Brack, waved a hand toward the pugilist.

“Kindly have that man removed, cappy.”

The captain merely smiled; the scene was pleasing him. Chanler swore at him, and once more I saw that swift, terrible change come over Brack’s countenance.

“Careful, Chanler,” he said softly.

“Careful! On my own yacht!” Chanler’s voice was strong, but his eyes were wavering before Brack’s.

I stepped to his side, and as I did so, Miss Baldwin, a shimmering blue sweater in place of her rain-coat, and a tiny white tasseled cap on her head, came running out of the cabin toward us. Her eyes were taking in the _Wanderer’s_ beauty and her nostrils were quivering with excitement.

“Oh, what a jolly boat!” she cried. “George, take me round; I want to see it all at once.”

Then she noticed the crew.

“Why!” She looked at the threatening faces of the men. “Why, George, what’s the matter?”

Chanler laughed easily.

“Oh, nothing much, Betty. We picked up a man in a boat last night with a bag of gold nuggets on him, and he told a story about a new gold field in a hidden country not far away, and the men want to go there instead of to Petroff Sound, that’s all.”

Her eyes widened.

“Really, George?” she asked incredulously.

“Really,” he said.

“But—do such things really happen, picking up men in boats with bags of gold on them?”

“It happened this time, at least,” he replied.

“Oh, how perfectly thrilling! A hidden country. And there’s more gold to find in the place he came from?”

“So the man says.”

“Oh, George!” cried Miss Baldwin eagerly “let’s go to this hidden country, and let me dig some gold with my own hands!”

Chanler looked puzzled, then relieved. Here was a creditable way out of an unpleasant situation, and his interest in Petroff Sound already was gone.

“Would you rather do that than go bone-hunting, Betty?” he asked.

“Of course. Wouldn’t you? Who cares for old bones? And think of the thrill and adventures in exploring a hidden country and of hunting gold!”

Chanler turned and nodded curtly to Brack.

“We go to Kalmut Fiord then, cappy.”

“All right, men,” snapped Brack. They broke at his orders; he was the captain again. “Full speed ahead, Mr. Riordan, please; I’ll take the bridge myself.”

He stood for a moment looking at Miss Baldwin. When George introduced them she first looked at Brack’s brutal features and wonderful eyes as casually as if he had been an ordinary member of the crew. Then her look became interested. After awhile she blushed and looked away, confused.

Brack bowed, and spoke and smiled courteously, but as he hurried up on the bridge there was a new look in his eyes. I could compare it only to the look that was in Garvin’s eyes when he had seen the little raw pile of gold.

XV

The _Wanderer_ seemed galvanized into new life. The sullenness and tension that had hung over her decks all morning vanished as a fog vanishes before the rising sun. The men jumped to their tasks, grotesque grins on their faces where truculence had reigned a moment before.

Down below decks the engines began humming, slowly at first, rising steadily, until presently we were racing along at a speed that sent the water hissing along our sides. On the bridge Brack paced energetically, now speaking to the wheelman, now down the engine-room telephone. Our course was changed so abruptly that we felt the impact when the wheel went over, and minutes later we were holding steady and true on a course nearly at right angles to the one we had been following.

“Ha!” said Chanler. “Apparently cappy knows where he’s going, and is going there as fast as the old scow can travel.”

Miss Baldwin, bracing herself against the breeze, laughed nervously. Chanler reached down and took her hand. She looked up at him; then she drew her hand away.

I turned to go. A sailor, dragging a hose aft, blocked my way for a moment and I was forced to hear what they said.

“George,” said she, “tell me the truth; did Mrs. Payne ever intend to come on this voyage? Or did you deceive me altogether?”

“I—I had to see you, Betty,” he faltered. “I——”

“Don’t say any more, please.”

As I entered the cabin she was looking out over the sea. Chanler was chewing his under lip and staring hard at the deck.

I had barely settled myself in my stateroom to try to think coherently on the events of the morning when Freddy Pierce slipped in, closing the door noiselessly behind him.

“It’s all right, Brains,” he said. “Brack’s too busy on the bridge to pay any attention to me. Let me roll one before you say anything; I’m forty miles up in the air.”

“Pierce,” I said, as he manufactured his cigaret, “what sort of message did Mr. Chanler send Miss Baldwin?”

“Ah ha! You’ll let me tell you now will you? Well, he sent two kinds; one from himself, saying Mrs. Payne was on board, and one that he signed ‘Dora Payne’, inviting Miss Baldwin to come on this voyage. Oh, it’s a fine piece of business, I tell you——”

“Stop!” I said. “Don’t tell me any more; that’s plenty.”

He drew strongly at his cigaret and blew a shaft of smoke at the ceiling.

“And a Jane—I mean, a girl like that, for anybody to do what Chanler did! What’s his game, Brains? He isn’t so raw——”

“He isn’t himself,” I interrupted. “That’s the stuff; stick up for your pals. But, think of me. I had a hand in getting this girl on board ship.” He rose and tramped the room. “Chanler must be crazy, especially after this morning, to let a girl come aboard. Can’t he see what Brack is? And what do we know about where we’re going now? It’s bad enough for us; I’d blow the job myself if there was any way out and it didn’t look like being a quitter; but for a girl like this to be pulled into it, it’s a fine business—I don’t think!”

“Pierce,” said I, “could we get that steamer to turn back to us?”

“Sure—if Chanler would give the order. They know he can pay for their time, even if they are carrying mail.”

“Then you may have a message to send them soon,” I said, and went out to seek Chanler and Miss Baldwin.

* * * * *

I did not find Chanler. Miss Baldwin was alone in a deck-chair under the awning on the forward deck. She was sitting with her chin in her hand, and to my surprise a look of relief came upon her face as she glanced up and saw me. Before I could speak she said.

“Mr. Pitt, what has happened to George Chanler?”

“Happened to Chanler?” I stammered. I tried to make light of it, but the look on her face stopped the foolish words on my lips.

“You know he is changed,” she continued. “What has done it?”

“How do you mean he has changed,” I asked.

“Don’t, please don’t try to deceive me?” She broke out. “I am not blind. I can see he has changed, and I can see that your attitude toward him is not what it would have been if he—if he were himself. You’re an old friend of his?”

“I have known him for several years.”

“So he said. Then you know he has changed. Why, he was like a good-natured boy last Winter; you couldn’t help liking him. And now he is so different. What has happened to him?”

I looked at her, and her eyes were frankly searching me for the truth. The eyes were gray and very calm.

“There is a change in him,” I admitted. “But I am still his friend.”

Her eyes widened a little.

“Do you mean by that that you can’t be my friend? Don’t you think I have a right to know?”

“Chanler has been very lonely——”

“It’s drink, isn’t it?” she interrupted. “Don’t be afraid to tell me; you can see I’m not afraid.”

“He has been lonely,” I continued, “and therefore he has probably been drinking more than is good for him. Now that you are here he will undoubtedly become himself again.”

“Do you think so, really?”

“I do,” I said earnestly. “How can he do anything else now?”

She rose and crossed over to the starboard rail. I followed. Looking aft I saw Simmons hurrying into Chanler’s stateroom with a bottle wrapped in a napkin, and Chanler’s absence was explained.

Miss Baldwin did not see Simmons. She was looking down at the water along our side. After several minutes she raised her head.

“Poor George!” she said, “He’s never had to fight anything in his life, so he’s handicapped. But we’ll hope, at least.”

“Miss Baldwin,” I said vigorously, “it is not too late for you to leave this yacht. We can reach the _City of Nome_ by wireless. You can return there now.”

The look which she bestowed on me had nothing in it but surprise.

“Leave the yacht now, just at the beginning of the voyage? Why do you suggest that, Mr. Pitt?”

“I thought,” I stammered, “I thought that after you had seen how things are on board you might be wishing you were safely back on the steamer.”

“But—but you said my being here would help straighten George up?”

I was silent.

“Why did you suggest that I leave, Mr. Pitt?”

“Miss Baldwin,” said I, “I do not wish to alarm you, but I do not think this yacht at present is a place for a young woman to take a pleasure trip in. It is Chanler’s place to tell you this, but I am quite sure he will not do so.”

“Go on,” she said, “you must explain fully now.”

“Well, to be blunt, the yacht is in the hands of Captain Brack and the crew.”

“Yes?”

“You saw Captain Brack, Miss Baldwin; I saw that you studied him with interest.”

“Yes!” she said eagerly, and at the sudden play of excitement in her expression I once more felt the old familiar chill creeping up my spine.

The power, the fascination, the dominant will of Captain Brack suddenly took on new possibilities. How would those terrible, compelling eyes affect a woman, a young girl? How had they affected her? For it was obvious that Miss Baldwin’s brief meeting with him had left its mark.

“He has,” said she, “such strange eyes.”

“Miss Baldwin,” I said, “when you came on board the crew practically was in a state of mutiny. Captain Brack sided with them. The crew is composed of a choice lot of brutes, ex-criminals, who may do Heaven knows what.”

Miss Baldwin stood firmly upright and looked at me, her eyes alight with excitement. Her thin nostrils widened and trembled.

“Oh, how you thrill me, Mr. Pitt!” she said. “Tell me honest truth—you’re not joking? Is it really true, about the mutiny and the crew of choice brutes?”

“Miss Baldwin,” I stammered. “Do you mean to say that you’re pleased to hear this? That you’d wish to stay on board if I assured you that we are practically in the hands of a crew of dangerous men, with no knowing what sort of adventure they may be going on?”

“Would I?” she cried promptly. “Why, it’s what I’ve been longing for all my life.”

“You—you have—what?” I stammered.

She smiled mischievously at my astonishment.

“Mr. Pitt, who was it that said, ‘most men lead lives of quiet desperation’? No matter. He should have included girls, too. Did you ever think that we, too, sometimes might get tired of the hum drum lives we’re born to and long for something wild to flavor our existence?”

“Good Lord, no!”

“Of course, you haven’t. Well, possibly I’m different from other girls. I don’t know. But I’ve always felt that if I had to live all my life without one great adventure I—I’d burst.”

“The great adventure for a girl,” said I severely, “is to love, marry, and——”

“Ah, yes! But somehow I seem to recall having heard that before.”

A sea-gull, following the _Wanderer_ in search of galley droppings, swooped past us, struck the crest of a small wave with a splash, and soared upward and away.

“There,” she said quietly, “that’s what I’ve longed for; just once, to be absolutely free. Do you understand?”

I shook my head.

“There is nothing of the adventurer in me, Miss Baldwin.”

“Then why are you here; why don’t you leave the yacht?”

“That’s different. I came aboard as part of the expedition. I remain because——”

“Because you are not a quitter.” She laughed gaily, then grew serious. “I’m a queer bird, am I not, Mr. Pitt?”

“Well, you have succeeded in startling me. When you came on board I judged you to be the typical young girl of your class who has led so sheltered a life——”

“I have, I have! Oh, so—so sheltered! That’s why I’m wild to be something else for once.”

“So sheltered a life that you would shrink and flee when you discovered that you were the only woman on board the yacht. And that you would be terror-stricken when I told you the true state of affairs on board.”

She nodded with mock contrition.

“I know. That’s what I should have done to be proper. But I can’t help it, Mr. Pitt. I’m not afraid; I don’t want to shrink and flee; and I do look forward to something different with unholy joy. Awful, isn’t it? But it’s all so thrilling—the wicked crew, the mutiny, and—and Captain Brack.”

XVI

Chanler came up briskly before we had time to speak further. His dullness had given place to animation. It was apparent that he had wasted no time while in his stateroom.

“Let’s go aft, Betty,” he said. “There’s an awning up there, and deck-chairs, and no wind. Come on.”

I watched them as they went, he, nervous, with unsteady eyes, she, calm, buoyant, strong. He leaned toward her and talked excitedly, and I saw that she drew a little away from him.

They did not sit down. I saw Chanler urging her, and she shook her head and continued to walk to and fro, Chanler following. He was talking and gesticulating excitedly. She looked at him long and steadily once, then looked away.

As I turned I found myself face to face with Captain Brack. He had come down noiselessly from the bridge and was studying me with that old superior smile on his lips.

“Ah, you idealist, Mr. Pitt!” he said softly.

“Idealist, Captain Brack? Why do you say that?”

“It is in your eyes. It is in the position of your chin; it is all over you. You are uplifted and exalted for the moment. You feel that you really are something; you feel strong, is that not so?”

“Perhaps.”

“No, not perhaps, but positively. You feel at this moment that you are a big, strong man; in reality you are—Mr. Gardner Pitt.” He chuckled carelessly at the flush that came to my cheek. “I have been watching you for some seconds, Mr. Pitt; I have seen you swell and think you were growing. In your calm reason—for you can reason somewhat, Mr. Pitt—you know that you are not growing; but for the moment you have allowed your emotions to hypnotize you. You are a victim of your own emotions. For instance—” he waved his thick hand toward the aft where Chanler and Miss Baldwin now were promenading together—“you fancy that in Mr. Chanler’s partner you have been looking at something wonderful and fine. Is that not so?”

“That is so, captain.”

“Something above the common, raw, crawling stuff of life?”

“Decidedly so.”

“Something which it is not the sphere of reason to grasp, but which the emotions alone can appreciate?”

“Go on.”

He laughed unctuously.

“Then I have diagnosed your delusion accurately.”

“Are you sure it is a delusion, captain?”

“Yes. Self-hypnosis. What you see is not there.”

Betty turned at this moment so that her face was toward us.

“What do you see back there, Brack?” I asked.

He looked at her steadily; his head was lowered a little, and again there was in his eyes the look comparable to Garvin’s when he saw the raw gold.

“I see,” said he slowly, without taking his eyes off Betty, “just what there is there; a very fine, healthy young specimen of the female of the species.”

His words were like a dull knife on my nerves, but I controlled myself.

“Nothing more?” I asked casually.

“No. For there is no more.”

I laughed, and I was conscious of a sensation of relief. The man had his limitations then, even though one glance from his eyes had left so strong an impression on Miss Baldwin.

“I feel sorry for you then,” said I. “You are to be pitied for your lack of imagination.”

He did not take his eyes off Betty.

“No,” he said, “for that is enough to see. It is more than enough. A fine young woman. Only once or twice in my life have I seen finer. Too fine to be wasted on a silly ineffectual. Yes, too fine to be won except by a man.”

He swung around on me and said with a wink:

“I have a feeling, Mr. Pitt, that an interesting voyage lies before us. And—and a short time ago I didn’t think anything could interest me much except gold—which means power.”

“Do you feel that we are going to find gold at this alleged gold-field in the alleged hidden country to which we are going?”

“Naturally. Else we would not be found there now.”

“Have you any positive reason for believing gold is to be found there? Not that story of the alleged miner,” I hastened on. “You don’t expect any reasoning being to accept that story as a reason. Have you any real reason for thinking there is gold at this so-called Kalmut Fiord?”

His eyebrows raised a trifle and he smiled as one might at a child who displays unexpected shrewdness.

“You do not have much confidence in the miner’s story, Mr. Pitt?” he asked.

“The maundering of a delirious man,” I retorted. “Surely you would not change the purpose of this expedition on such slender information as that.”

He ceased smiling for a moment.

“I know that there is gold at Kalmut Fiord,” he said. “Does that ease you?”

“If I knew how you know there is gold there, I would be more satisfied. And even granting that you know there is gold there—Captain Brack, you will pardon me—but it scarcely seems in keeping with your character to cheerfully sail a ship-load of people to this gold-field, where they will have an equal chance with you to enrich themselves.”

“No?” he said, and his smile was back in its place. “You have sounded my character then, have you, Mr. Pitt?”

“My dear captain! I am sure you hardly expect to impress even a casual observer as a man who would freely invite a crowd to share a gold find with him.”

He laughed, nodding at me approvingly.

“That isn’t bad, Pitt. The sea air sharpens wits. But have you ever been in the North, away from police officers and courts?”

“Never.”

“Have you ever been in a spot where laws do not reach?”

“No.”

“Well, it is such a place that you are going to now, Pitt. You will find yourself in a new world, in this hidden country, a world as it was in the beginning, with the laws of nature the only ones necessary to consider. In such places gold naturally is attracted to the strongest man, no matter who digs it out of the ground. Gold, do I say? Ha! All things to the strong in this place, Pitt. Nature’s law; all things to the strong, and especially—” he looked again toward the after deck— “women.”

XVII

My expressed faith that Chanler would straighten up now that Miss Baldwin was on board was doomed to early destruction. George had sunk further than his face betrayed, further than any of us had guessed. As a matter of fact this probably was the first time in his life that he had seriously struggled with a big problem, and the struggle had exposed him in a fashion I had not thought possible.

Twice that afternoon he left Miss Baldwin for short runs into his stateroom, and each time he returned vivacious and aggressive. At luncheon he was glum and distrait. Out of regard for Miss Baldwin he had banished liquor from the table and he suffered without it.

Captain Brack was not present at luncheon. He was too occupied between the bridge and the engine-room. Riordan also was absent.

“We are running at our maximum now, yes sir,” said Wilson in reply to a question. “The captain is anxious to hold her so, and he is laying the course himself.”

“Do you know where we are going, Wilson?” I asked.

“No sir. Our course is due north. We should strike somewhere on the Kenai Peninsula, sir.”

“What kind of a country is it there?” asked Betty.

“No country at all, Miss. Entirely unsettled. A rough coast-line.”

“Cappy apparently knows where he’s going,” muttered Chanler.

“Yes sir,” said Wilson.

“And nobody else does.”

“No sir.”

“And that’s what I call a situation to keep a chap from being bored. What do you say, Wilson?”

“I’m not easily bored, sir.”

“You lucky dog!”

“Yes sir,” said Wilson, and excusing himself went out.

When Dr. Olson had done likewise Chanler looked long and lovingly at Miss Baldwin.

“Betty,” he said, as if rousing himself with an effort.

“Yes, George.”

“Betty, don’t you think you were an awful fool to come on a crazy trip like this?”

She smiled as if humoring him.

“Why do you say that, George?”

“Suppose folks should hear about it?”

“What then?”

“Betty—you—all alone on a yacht with me. What’ll folks think if they know?”

“They do know,” she said. “I told my folks and friends where I was going.”

“Yes, but you told them my sister was on board.”

“Certainly—as you told me.”

“Oh, don’t rub it in, Betty. That’s past. But what do you think people will think when they know she wasn’t on board, and that you came ’way up here alone to join me?”

She looked at him steadily. I half rose to leave, but a glance from her eyes told me to remain. It was not a pleasant scene. I stared at my napkin.

“You see, Betty,” he continued, leaning loosely across the table, “that’s what it will look like. Won’t it, Gardy?”

I did not reply.

“What will it look like, George?” she asked evenly.

“Like you were chasing me.”

She laughed, and her laughter was like a song-burst of wholesome young life in the atmosphere of Chanler’s drink-drugged maundering.

“Well, George, isn’t that what I am doing?”

“People will talk, Betty,” he persisted. “It’s a bad situation—for you. I—I’m sorry I got you to come here—no, hang it! I’m not. But I am worrying about your reputation, Betty.”

“I think I can take care of my reputation, George,” she said quietly.

“Let me take care of it, Betty!” he cried hoarsely, taking her hand.

“Please, George,” she said, smiling, as she rose.

“Betty!” He clung to her hand.

With swift, confident strength she drew her hand free, lifting him slightly from his chair in doing so.

“You’ll excuse me now, won’t you?” she said, and went to her room.

Chanler flung himself back in his chair, laughing harshly.

“Did you see that—did you see it, Gardy?” he said, as he pressed the bell. “She doesn’t care if I do own this yacht. I’m nothing to her. Oh, what a rotten trip this is going to be!”

“Chanler,” I said, “sit still for a minute and listen. You have got to pull yourself together. You have got to straighten out this mess. You have got to show Miss Baldwin that you are the man she is hoping to find in you. Buck up, man! Her hopes are pinned on you. She cares. Do you think she would have come this far if she didn’t care? She has done her share; she’s here. Now, for her sake, do your share. Pull yourself together and be the man she has been hoping all this time she would find you.”

“Hooray!” he whispered mockingly. “Go on, Gardy; you’re the boy who can say things. King’s peg,” he said to the steward who had come in.

“Wait!” I said. The man stopped. “Chanler, you’ve been overdoing it. You’re not yourself. You’ve done things that aren’t done; you’ve got to sober up and straighten them out.”

“Got to!”

“Yes; as a gentleman you’ve got to. Miss Baldwin’s happiness—perhaps her whole life’s happiness—depends on your being a gentleman from now on. For God’s sake man! Isn’t it worth sobering up to win a prize like that?”