Part 6

Niven saw he was beaten, and sat down wearily. "Very well!" he said with a little groan. "Perhaps something will happen, and I don't care what it is. Anything would be better than--this--and I simply can't bear it very much longer. Now the Dutchman's coming round the mate will be more brutal than ever."

He said nothing further, and while he sat still with a hopeless face in black dejection, the mate, who did not know all that he was doing, took his affairs in hand. Coming forward along the deck he stopped before them with a packet in his hand.

"Take the gig ashore, and put these letters in the post," he said. "Wait for half-an-hour, and then if you see no sign of the skipper, come off again. You can take Cally with you."

The lads were almost desperate, or they would not have done a foolish thing, for Appleby did not stand up.

"It's not our watch, sir," he said.

The mate swung round and looked at him with a little glint in his eyes. "You're talking again," he said. "If you're not on board the gig inside five minutes, I'll have my answer ready for you."

Appleby rose up and touched his cap sardonically, but Niven was sullen. "Very well, sir, but the gig's too big for us, and I don't know that we can pull her back against the breeze," he said.

The mate moved a little nearer with an unpleasant smile in his face. "The stream will sweep you off the land unless you do, and it should help you to pull if you remember it," he said. "That reminds me, I want Cally for something else."

Appleby saw that he had made a mistake again. Since he had spoken to the skipper their persecutor had avoided violence and harassed them with a vindictive cunning which left no room for any objection that would not put them in the wrong. So far speech had only lost them the help of a third hand who could have taken his turn at an oar and steered for them, and he grasped Niven fiercely by the shoulder lest he should answer as he turned away. The gig lay astern, and in another minute or two they had climbed down into her, and casting off stepped the mast and ran up the little sail. The wind would carry them ashore, but the gig though light was nearly twenty feet long, and, while they could row tolerably well, both knew it would cost them a strenuous effort to pull her off again.

"He's a pig and a beast!" said Niven, hoarse with rage, as he sat aft with the tiller in his hand while the boat swung over the little splashing sea. "She's not going to fetch the ship under sail coming back, and it will be no end of a fag to pull her, while I'm about done with handling those staysails all day already."

Appleby said nothing, but his face was very sombre as he slacked the sheet a little when a puff of spray flew over the weather gunwale, and the brine lapped perilously near the opposite one. He saw that the breeze was freshening, as an easterly wind often does at nightfall, and did not anticipate any pleasure in rowing back again.

*CHAPTER VII*

*ADRIFT*

When Appleby and Niven came clattering down the beach it was growing very cold and night was closing in. They had not found the skipper, and a man had told them that the little tramway between Port Parry and Victoria had stopped running. The lads had also been working hard in the sunshine all day, and because the mate had given them no time to change the light clothes they stood in they shivered a little in the chilly breeze. It came down moaning across the dark pines, crisping the land-locked harbour where two big warships lay, and when they stood on the pebbles there was a clear ringing of bugles.

"Half-an-hour, to the minute," said Appleby. "There's a tolerably stiff breeze."

"You timed us?" said Niven. "Of course, you would. Now, I could never have remembered it."

Appleby laughed a trifle grimly. "Yes," he said. "You see, I didn't want to stay here any longer than was necessary with the wind freshening. It's going to be quite hard enough work to get back as it is."

Niven groaned a little as he helped to thrust off the boat, for he was very tired, and his limbs had stiffened with the cold, while as he was about to step on board a Canadian came sauntering down the beach.

"Are you two lads going off to the barque out there?" he asked.

Appleby nodded, and the man glanced towards the swaying trees and the little streaks of froth that showed white against the dimness out at sea. "It's a tolerably big contract," he said reflectively. "You've got to go?"

"Yes," said Appleby. "If you knew what our mate was like you wouldn't ask that question."

The Canadian laughed. "I figure I can guess," he said. "Well, now, you pull up well to windward along the shore where you'll get less breeze and smoother water, and when it strikes you you're far enough to head her across pull fit to split your boots--but don't miss her."

Appleby saw it was good advice, and did his best to follow it, but his back was aching and his arms were stiff; while when Niven missed a stroke, which he did not infrequently, the wind drove them a trifle further off shore before they could pull the gig's head round again. She had been built for four men to row, and while they would have no difficulty in propelling her in smooth water it was different when with the wind against them every little lurch checked her speed. Still, they toiled for half-an-hour or so, making no great progress that Appleby who watched the trees ashore could see, until Niven groaned.

"I'm almost done," he said. "If you don't head across soon I'll double up before we fetch the _Aldebaran_."

Appleby glanced at the shore, and then at the barque's riding light blinking fitfully half-a-mile away.

It was no great distance, but the breeze that blew slantwise off the shore would be on their side while they headed for her, and if the boat made much leeway they could not reach her. Nor did he fancy they would have the strength to drive the gig back to windward if they once drifted astern of her.

"Shake yourself together, Chriss, and we'll make a shot at it," he said.

Niven said nothing, but he bent his back, and for ten minutes they strained every sinew while the boat lurched and plunged on the little splashing sea as they drew out from the land. Cold as it was the perspiration dripped from them, and the oars slipped in their greasy palms, while both were gasping when a haze of smoke that blotted out everything drove down upon them.

"Head her up a little," said Appleby when the blinking light faded. "Put all you're good for into it, and row. There's nothing but the Pacific before us if we miss the _Aldebaran_."

For another five minutes Niven rowed desperately, his heart thumping and his breath coming in half-stifled gasps, while the boat plunged more viciously with the sea upon her bow. Then he missed his stroke as the moon came through, and Appleby could not check a little groan of dismay. They were close to the _Aldebaran_ and could see her plainly as a cold blast drove the haze away, but she was well up on their weather instead of under their lee, and he knew it was beyond the power of any two worn-out lads to reach her against the wind.

"It's no use," said Niven hoarsely. "I can't do any more. Shout if you can, though we'd be out of sight before they could get the other boat over."

They made the most noise they could, but it is difficult to shout when exhausted by a strenuous effort, and it is more than possible that the splash of the sea and sighing of the wind drowned their strained voices. Nor is the low dusky shape of a boat easy to discern from a ship's deck on a hazy night. In any case, there was no answer, and for a minute the lads watched the three tall spars and strip of hull that rose black against the moon slide away from them--and that was the last they ever saw of the _Aldebaran_. Then another gust brought down the haze again, and while the smoky greyness drifted past them they were alone.

"I can scarcely pull," said Niven. "Do you think we could fetch ashore?"

"I don't," said Appleby with grim directness. "Still, we can try, and it's the only thing we can do."

They rowed for about twenty minutes, the splashing strokes growing slower while the plunging grew sharper, and then stopped again as the haze thinned a little. The blink of the barque's riding light was no longer perceptible, nor could they see anything of the shore.

"Well?" said Niven dejectedly.

Appleby laughed, though his voice was not mirthful and there was a curious tremor in it. "You wanted to leave the _Aldebaran_--and I fancy you've got your wish," he said. "We're blowing out from land, and there's quite a sea getting up."

"Yes," groaned Niven. "That's plain enough. What are we going to do?"

"I don't know," said Appleby. "It's not blowing much, and the proper thing would be to keep her lying head to with the oars until the morning. Then we'd see the land. If we kept pulling easy she wouldn't drift very much. The difficulty is that we're not fit to do it."

"No," said Niven decisively. "No more rowing for me. That's not going to work, anyway. What's the next best thing?"

"Make a sea anchor with the mast and sail and a piece of iron hanging from it, and lie to it with a long cable," said Appleby who had been reading some of Lawson's books.

"Rot again!" said Niven. "We haven't got any iron, and the few yards of rope forward wouldn't be half enough."

"Then," said Appleby with a little hollow laugh, "we can only let her drift, unless the sea gets too big for it. I don't feel like rowing any more myself."

They threw the oars in, and sat down out of the wind on the floorings, feeling very lonely, for an hour or so. The gig was long and narrow with only a few inches of her bottom in the water, and the wind did what it would with her. Now it drove her sideways, now it whirled her round, and all the while the dark slopes of water rose higher and the night grew colder. At last when a little splash of brine fell on Appleby's face he rose to his knees and saw a yellow flicker with a green blink beneath it swinging towards them through the haze.

"Get your oar out--quick! There's a steamer coming up," he said.

Niven obeyed him, but it was another thing to pull the oar. Their tired arms had stiffened, and it is somewhat difficult to row in tumbling water. The wind would also blow the gig's head round in spite of them, and little frothy splashes came in over the bow, but the lights were growing brighter, and when at last they stopped rowing a big, shadowy bow was forging through the water close in front of them.

Twice they sent up a breathless shout, while the bow drew out into a length of dusky hull. They could see the double row of deckhouses showing dimly white, and the big, black funnel high above them, but only the thumping of engines answered their cry, and in another moment the boat reeled and plunged as the steamer's stern went by. Then a little seething rush of foam lapped in over the gunwale, and Niven groaned.

"The brutes--they could have heard us if they had wanted to," he said with hoarse unevenness, and Appleby saw what was going to happen by the way his comrade flung in his oar.

"Hold up!" he said sternly. "Shake it off, and stiffen your back, Chriss. If you're going to give up we can't do anything."

"It can't make any difference," said Niven with hopeless apathy. "You know as well as I do that we can do nothing now."

It was not astonishing that his courage should desert him. He was worn out, and already the gig was taking more than splashes in over her gunwale, for they had blown well out from land and the freshening breeze had raised a little frothing sea in the more open water. It appeared very possible that the craft would roll over presently. Appleby, however, though very near it, was not quite beaten yet.

"That's where you're wrong," said he. "We can get a little sail on her and keep her running. There's not sea enough to hurt her when she's going before it, and we're tolerably sure to pick up a ship or see the land to-morrow."

It was a relief to have something to do, and Niven felt a very little easier in mind when they had stepped the mast, half-hoisted the sail and baled the boat dry. She ran well as long, flat-floored boats do, and, though there was usually a sea that looked unpleasantly big following close behind her, no more water came on board. Niven lay on the floorings by his comrade's feet where the stern kept the wind and spray off him, and Appleby sat at the tiller doing his best to keep the boat before the sea, and watching the froth swirl past her. It raced forward faster than they were travelling, rose above the gunwale on either hand, and then surged on into the darkness and was lost again. He had only this and the chill of the wind that swept over his shoulder to guide him, and by and by, when the gig swerved a little, in place of seething past, the foam lapped into her. Then Niven would stir himself and bale to free the boat of the water before more came on board her. He had, however, no great difficulty in doing it, because a buoyant craft of that kind will, so long as one can keep her straight, run before a tolerably nasty sea without shipping much water, but both lads knew they were driving four or five miles further from the land every hour.

They saw no more steamers, and very little of anything beyond the streaks of froth that went hissing by. Sometimes for a few minutes the moon shone through, but the silvery radiance was promptly blotted out by the haze again, and Appleby grew steadily colder and stiffer at the tiller. He was also getting drowsy, though he knew that if he relaxed his vigilance for a moment and let the gig swerve as she lurched forward with a sea the next would fill her to the gunwales or roll her over. At last when his head would droop a little in spite of his efforts, Niven, who was looking aft just then, rose half-upright.

"Hallo!" he said excitedly. "There's something coming up astern."

Appleby, with every nerve quivering, glanced over his shoulder, which was not wise of him, and saw a tall, dusky shape rush out of the darkness. Then the boat shot up to windward a little, and her weather gunwale was lost in a rush of foam.

"Bale!" he shouted, as he felt the chilly water splash about his ankles.

Niven grasped the baler, for there was evidently no time to lose, but as he did so a banging and rattling came out of the darkness, and a hoarse cry reached them.

"Down sail, and pull her up to us!"

Appleby let the sheet fly, and scrambled forward, and in another moment the flapping sail fell into the boat.

Then while the gig lurched perilously and they struggled to get the oars out a shadowy blur of thrashing canvas swept past them and stopped close ahead. After that he only remembered rowing savagely until a low dark hull that plunged and rolled swayed down upon the boat and smote her heavily. A man sprang down apparently with a rope, another leaning over the bulwarks clutched Niven and dragged him up, and Appleby, who did not quite know how he got there, found himself standing on a little schooner's deck. Somebody was speaking close beside him.

"She's twenty feet, anyway, and there's nowhere we could stow her."

"Then you can let her go," said another man. "Box her round with the staysail, Donegal. She'll fall off now. Let draw, and out with the main-boom again!"

There was no sharpness in the man's voice, and he spoke with a drawl, but Appleby had never seen sail handled as quickly on board the _Aldebaran_. Here and there a dark object hauled on a rope, and then with a swing to leeward and a swift upward lurch the schooner was on her way again. He did not fancy the vessel was a trader, because she seemed too fast and small for that, and while he wondered what her business might be the man who had spoken touched him.

"Come right along, and we'll have a look at you," he said.

Appleby and Niven followed him into the little house under the mainboom, the floor of which was below the level of the deck, and stood still with the water trickling from them while a lamp swung above them. A little stove burned in one corner, the place seemed very hot, while a curious odour pervaded it. Then Appleby's eyes rested on the man who sat down at one end of the little swing table. He was tall and lanky, and his face was lean, while his skin was the colour of new leather, and a ponderous hand rested on the table in front of him. His hair was slightly grizzled, and there was something that suggested resolution in the set of his lips and the shape of his chin. There was, however, a little smile in his eyes, which were very keen.

"Sit you down," he said. "Kind of cold night for a picnic, and you were making good time for Yokohama when we saw you first."

The lads obeyed him, and the man thumped upon the beam above him when Niven sank huddled into a corner and closed his eyes. Then there was a cold draught as a skylight opened and a man looked in. "Wanting anything?" he said.

"Tell Brulee to worry round and raise a pint or two of coffee--hot," said the man at the table, who glanced at Appleby. "Your partner's played out, but we'll fix him in a minute."

"Are you the skipper of this schooner, sir?" asked Appleby.

The man nodded. "That's just what I am--Ned Jordan of Vancouver, British Columbia, though I kind of figure it's me that's conducting this meeting. It was about the picnic you were going to tell me."

Appleby felt reassured, for the man's voice was good-humoured, though he fancied it would not be advisable to trifle with him.

"There wasn't any picnic, sir," he said. "We didn't come out for pleasure."

"No," said Jordan dryly. "I didn't figure there was. Those things you've got on don't look quite like a city lad's outfit. Still, I was wondering if you were going to put it that way."

Appleby flushed a trifle, for he guessed the man's thoughts. "What do you fancy we are?" said he.

Jordan smiled dryly. "It's me that's asking the questions, but I'm quite open to tell you. You're two English lads from the big barque off Port Parry, and I figure you got tired of her."

"We didn't run away from her," said Appleby.

"Well," said Jordan with a trace of grimness, "whether you did or didn't don't count for much with me, but I've no use for crooked talking on board this packet. Better tell me what started you off for Japan, and put it as straight as you can."

Appleby told his story, and Jordan glanced at Niven, who had opened his eyes again. "You would tell it the same way, too?"

"Of course," said Niven angrily. "Still, I'm not going to do it since you don't believe him."

There was a little gleam in Jordan's eyes, and, as he looked at them in turn, they found his gaze somewhat embarrassing. "Still, you're not worrying because you can't get back?" he said.

"No," said Appleby. "I'm uncommonly glad I can't."

Jordan nodded. "Not much to eat, and plenty kicks?" he said, as a man came in. "Well, here's the coffee, and I figure you could worry through a little grub as well. Whatever they fed you with on board the barque, they didn't make you fat."

He laid a fresh loaf, butter, and a can of meat upon the table, and the lads did not wait for a second invitation, while it was a good many minutes later when Appleby laid his knife down with a little sigh of content.

"We have got to thank you, sir, but it's time we asked where the schooner's going to, and when you can put us ashore?" he said.

Jordan nodded, and pointed to the northern half of the compass fixed in the skylight above him. "That's where she's going--up there into the ice and fog where the fur seals live," he said. "As to the other question, we could land you in Vancouver when the season's over. We're away five or six months as the usual thing."

"But that would never do for us," said Niven with dismay.

"No?" said Jordan dryly. "Well, you see, I wasn't thinking of you very much. I didn't ask you to come here, and there are a few other men as well as myself I've got to suit on board this packet."

Appleby stared at him in silence for a space. "But you can't take us away north unless we are willing to go," said he. "You could haul her on a wind, and put us ashore on the west coast of Vancouver Island to-morrow. My friend's father would pay you well for doing it."

Again the expression Appleby had noticed crept into Jordan's eyes. "Well," he said with a little laugh, "I figure I can, and if I put you ashore on the beach you'd starve in the bush. Now, I don't quite like the way you're talking, because while there's no kicking on board the _Champlain_, we've no use for more than one skipper--and that's me. When you've got that into your head we'll go on a little. Says you, 'The other lad's father will pay you.' Well, I don't know him, and he's living six thousand miles away, while if he'd sense enough to raise dollars he could heave away, he'd never have sent his son to sea. That's quite plain to me."

"My father is a rich merchant, and a clever one," said Niven indignantly. "The value of a good many schooners like this one wouldn't be much to him."

"Then," said Jordan with a grim smile, "it's quite clear you don't take after him. Folks of that kind know when talking's not much use to them, but it's time we got ahead a little. We were nigh a month behind when we started from Vancouver, and with five boats way up before me, I'm not stopping one hour for anybody, and the _Champlain_ is going north like a steamer while this breeze lasts. You've heard all I've got to tell you as to that. Now it might be two or three months before I could put you on board anything coming south, and in the meanwhile I've got to give you clothes and feed you, while, as I want all the dollars I've got, to do it for nothing wouldn't be square to me. So since you came on board the _Champlain_, I'm wanting your word that you'll stay there until we get back to Vancouver. You'll get half a man's share in what we make, if we find you useful and willing, and that seems to me a square offer."

Appleby looked at Niven. "It can't be helped--and we couldn't be worse off than we were in the _Aldebaran_," he said. "There's no use in telling him any more about your father."

Niven sat silent a little, and then nodded. "We'll come, sir," he said.

"Then," said Jordan, "it's a deal. Now those things of yours aren't quite fit to go sealing in, and you can take these along. Stickine will show you how to fix them up to-morrow."

He took out several curiously smelling garments from a cupboard, and shouted, "Stickine!" and in another minute the lads went out on deck and down a hatchway with a big silent man who grinned at them reassuringly.

*CHAPTER VIII*

*THE 'CHAMPLAIN,' SEALER*

A streak of sunlight that crept warm across his face and then swung away again awakened Appleby next morning, and for a moment or two he lay still staring about him in dreamy wonder. The _Aldebaran's_ deckhouse was held together by little iron beams, and in place of these great square timbers and ponderous knees ran into the vessel's framing above his head. There was something curiously unfamiliar about them. Then he saw that a long shelf, divided into wooden bunks, extended beyond the one he lay in, and there were more of them on the opposite side of the vessel. Between lay a space of shadow save where a shaft of sunlight came down through an opening, and Appleby remembered suddenly when as he watched it swing to and fro he felt a quick rise and fall which was very different from the long upward lurch of the _Aldebaran_. Reaching over he laid his hand on Niven's shoulder.

"Turn out! It's eight bells, and they're tacking ship," he said.