The Captain of the Kansas Part 16

"Huh. D'ye think so? I know the beggar who knifed me. I 'll take it out of him when I see him."

"You are better off than he, Boyle. Unless he is here with you, I guess he is rolling on the floor of the Pacific by this time."

Boyle tried to turn and survey his fellow-sufferers; there was the fire of battle in his eye. Courtenay restrained him with a laugh.

"A nice thing I am doing," he cried, "permitting you to talk, and getting you excited. I believe you would punch the scoundrel now if he were in the next berth. You must lie quiet, old man; doctor's orders; he says you 're on the royal road if you keep on the easy list for a day or so."'

Boyle smiled, and closed his eyes.

"I heard the anchors go, and then I knew that all was well. You 're the luckiest skipper afloat. Huh, the bloomin' _Kansas_ was lost not once but twenty times."

"Are you in pain, Boyle?" asked Courtenay, placing a gentle hand on his friend's forehead.

"Not much. More stiff than sore. It was a knock-out blow of its kind.

I can just recall you hauling me out of the scrimmage, and--"

"It will be your turn to do as much for me next time. Try to go to sleep; we'll have you on deck tomorrow."

Courtenay noticed that there were only four other sufferers in the saloon: Three were firemen injured by the explosion. He had a pleasant word for each of them. The fourth was a sailor, either asleep or unconscious, and Courtenay thought he recognized a severe bruise on the man's left temple where the b.u.t.t of his revolver had struck hard.

When he returned on deck he learned that two other members of the crew, in addition to the cook, were able to work. Walker had set one to clear up the stokehold; his companion, a fireman, had relieved Mr.

Tollemache. Indeed, the latter had gone to his cabin, and was the last to arrive at the feast, finally putting in an appearance in a new suit and spotless linen.

Christobal protested loudly.

"I thought this was to be a workers' meal," he said. "Tollemache has stolen a march on us. He is quite a Bond-street lounger in appearance."

"Dirty job, stoking," said Tollemache.

"I seem to have been the only lazy person on board during the night,"

cried Elsie.

"Do you know what time it is?" asked Courtenay.

"No; about ten o'clock, I fancy."

"It is not yet half-past four."

The blue eyes opened wide. "Are you in earnest?" she demanded.

He showed her his watch. Then she perceived that the sun had not yet risen high enough to illumine the wooded crest of the opposite cliff.

The snow-clad hills, the blue glaciers, the wonderful clearness of atmosphere, led her to believe that the day was much more advanced.

Land and sea shone in a strange crystal light. None could tell whence it came. It seemed to her, in that solemn hour, to be the reflection of heaven itself. By quick transition, her thoughts flew back to the previous night. Scarce four hours had elapsed since she had waited in the captain's cabin, amidst the drenching spray and tearing wind, while he took Isobel, and Mrs. Somerville, and the shrieking maid to the boat. The corners of her mouth drooped and tears trembled on her eyelashes. She sought furtively for a handkerchief. Knowing exactly what troubled her, Courtenay turned to Christobal.

"This island ought to be inhabited," he said. "Can you tell me what sort of Indians one finds in this locality?"

Christobal frowned perplexedly. During many previous voyages to Europe he had invariably traveled on the mail steamers of smaller draft which use the sheltered sea ca.n.a.l formed by the Smyth, Sarmiento, and Messier channels, the protected water-way running for hundreds of miles to the north from the western end of the Straits of Tierra del Fuego, and, in some of its aspects, reminding sailors of the Clyde and the Caledonian Ca.n.a.l.

"I fear I do not know much about them," he said. "Behind those hills there one sees a few Canoe Indians; I have heard that they are somewhat lower in the social scale than the aborigines of Australia."

"Are they?" said Courtenay. He looked Christobal straight in the eyes, and the doctor returned his gaze as steadily.

"That is their repute. They live mostly on sh.e.l.lfish. They do not congregate in communities. A few families keep together, and move constantly from place to place. They have a quaint belief that if they remain on a camping-ground more than a night or two the devil will stick his head out of the ground and bite them. Obviously, the real devil that plagues them is the continuous wandering demanded by their search for food."

Christobal would have aired such a sc.r.a.p of interesting knowledge at the foot of the scaffold, and expected the executioner to listen attentively.

"They are called the Alaculof. They use bows and arrows, with heads chipped out of stone or bottle-gla.s.s," put in Tollemache.

"Oh, you have been in these parts before?" cried Courtenay, regarding his compatriot with some interest, while the Spaniard surveyed his rival doubtfully.

"Yes--was on the _Emu_--wrecked in c.o.c.kburn Channel."

Now, the story of the _Emu_ is one of those fierce tragedies which the sea first puts on the stage of life with dire skill, and then proceeds to destroy the slightest vestige of their brief existence. But such things leave abiding memories in men's souls, and Courtenay had heard how twenty-seven survivors, out of a muster-roll of thirty who escaped from the wreck, had been shot down by Indians ambushed in the forest.

Elsie, whose tears were dispelled by the doctor's amusing summary of the Canoe Indians' theological views, was listening to the conversation, so the captain did not carry it further, contenting himself with the remark:

"That will be useful, if we are compelled to go ash.o.r.e. You will have some acquaintance with the ways of our hosts."

Tollemache, having nothing to say, was not given to the use of unnecessary words. Elsie was conscious of a certain constraint in their talk.

"Please don't mind me," she said quietly. "I know all about the loss of the _Emu_. If we fall into the hands of the Alaculof tribe, we shall be not only killed but eaten."

She was pouring out a second cup of tea for Walker when she made this remarkable statement. Her eyes were intent on exact quant.i.ties of tea, milk, and sugar, and she pa.s.sed the cup to the engineer with a smile.

Each of the men admired her coolness, but Tollemache, who had been quietly scrutinizing the nearer hills, gave painful emphasis to this gruesome topic by exclaiming:

"There they are now: smoke signals."

Sure enough, thin columns of smoke were rising from several points on the land. It could not be doubted that these were caused by human agency. They were not visible when the party sat down to breakfast.

The appearance of the s.h.i.+p was their obvious explanation, but not a canoe or a solitary figure could be seen, though Courtenay and others, at various times during the day, searched every part of the neighboring sh.o.r.e with field gla.s.ses and powerful telescopes.

After an all too brief burst of suns.h.i.+ne, the Land of Storms again justified its name. Giant clouds came rolling in from seaward. The mountains were lost in mist; the glaciers became sullen, rock-strewn ma.s.ses of white-brown ice; the fresh greenery of the forests faded into somber belts of blackness. Though it was high summer in this desolate region, heavy showers of hail and sleet alternated with drenching rain.

At low-water, though the _Kansas_ floated securely in a depth of twenty fathoms, a yellow current sweeping past her starboard quarter showed how accurately Courtenay had read the tokens of the inlet. Many a swollen torrent, and, perhaps, one or two fair-sized streams at the head of the bay, contributed this flood of fresh water.

And, with the evening tide, there were not wanting indications that the gale without had developed a new fury. A solitary albatross, driven landward by stress of weather, rode in vast circles above the s.h.i.+p.

There was no wealth of bird life in that place of gloom. Though fitted to rear untold millions of gulls and other sea birds, this secluded nook was almost deserted; generations of men had devoured all the eggs they could lay hands on.

To Elsie and the doctor were entrusted the daylight watch on deck and the care of the sick. For the latter there was not much to be done.

The cook undertook to feed them, and Frascuelo, the wounded stevedore who had been discovered in a state of collapse, soon revived, and was practically able to look after himself. The others, under Walker's directions, were hard at work in the engine-room and stoke-hold, for there alone lay the chance of ultimate escape.

The two sentinels conversed but little. The outer war of the elements was disturbing, and Christobal, though unfailingly optimistic in his speech, was nevertheless a prey to dark forebodings. Once, they were startled by the fall of an avalanche, which thundered down a mountain side on the farther sh.o.r.e, and tore a great gap in the belt of trees until it crashed into the water. It sent a four-foot wave across the bay, and the _Kansas_ rocked so violently that the men toiling below raced up on deck to ascertain the cause of the disturbance.

This was the only exciting incident of a day that seemed to be unending. Elsie, worn out by the strain of the preceding twenty-four hours, and, notwithstanding her brief sleep in the morning, thoroughly exhausted for want of rest, was persuaded to retire early to her cabin.

She lay down almost fully dressed. Somehow, it was impossible to think of a state of unpreparedness for any emergency.

She was soon sound asleep. She awoke with a start, with all her nerves a-quiver. Joey was tearing along the deck, barking furiously. She heard two men run past her door with ominous haste. Then, after a heart-breaking pause, there was some shooting. Some one, she thought it was Courtenay, roared down the saloon companion:

"On deck, all hands, to repel boarders!"

With a confused rush, men mounted the stairs and raced forward. She knew that nearly all of those not on watch were sleeping with the injured men in the saloon, and now she understood the reason. The s.h.i.+p was being attacked by Indians, and not altogether unexpectedly. The savages had stolen alongside in their canoes under the cloak of night.