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.”