XXIV
We found the wounded man lying in his bunk calmly dividing his time between a book and his bandaged leg which was stretched out before him. There was no look of pain or mental stress upon his bronzed face. It was all in the day’s work; he would not permit a little thing like a bullet through his leg to disturb his poise.
“I’m all right, sir,” he said. “Be up soon.”
“Wilson,” said I, “how much accident was there about that shot?”
“I don’t know, sir. Garvin was behind me when it happened. I don’t mind saying that I’ll settle personally with him for it when I’m on my feet again.”
“Garvin is merely the captain’s tool.”
“He’ll be a dull tool, sir, when I’ve paid him for his clumsiness.”
I told him all that I had heard, and what had happened to me that morning. When I came to my affair with Barry and my escape to warn the miners his eyes widened.
“The captain planned well, didn’t he, sir?” he said quietly. “The only thing—” he smiled a little—“the only thing he hadn’t charted right was you, Mr. Pitt. He was far on his reckonings of you, sir, and so was I. He never expected that from you. You threw him off his course nicely, sir. You may have spoiled the whole cruise for him, though that’s hardly probable. He always has a trick left.”
“And what do you think his plans are beyond this, Wilson?” I asked. “He certainly can’t intend to return with us to civilization after what he’s done today.”
“I’ve been thinking of that, sir,” he replied. “And I always get back to remembering that the Wanderer is outfitted for two years. I’ve a notion that the captain’s original plan was to rob these miners and then slip off to the edges of nowhere with the yacht.”
“And what of us?”
He shrugged his shoulders.
“Can’t tell, sir. As it is, you’ve put him off his course. If he doesn’t make out on his robbery he’ll have trouble with the men. He promised them a lot of easy gold. They’re a hard crew and he’ll have trouble handling them unless they catch those miners and make them give up the secret of where they’ve hidden the gold. If they catch ’em, the captain will get the secret out of them, you can bet on that. Then they’ll come piling back here to get away as soon as possible to where they can blow their loot.”
“And then we’ll have to look out for ourselves, you mean?”
Wilson nodded.
“Well,” said he slowly, “things like this ain’t so bad for men, sir, but there’s the girl.”
The conversation ceased abruptly. We sat silent, each troubled by the same thought.
“Did he say when he would return?” I asked at last.
“No,” said Pierce.
“How much grub did they take?” asked Wilson.
Pierce gulped.
“Not much. I heard him say there was enough up there for months.”
“And not a hint of when they were coming back?”
“No.”
We were silent again. Presently Wilson cleared his throat:
“Those fellows up there, the miners must have got away. The captain wouldn’t take her up there if they were there.”
“And he took the doc’ with him, too,” reminded Pierce. “Somebody must have got hurt.”
“Were they hard men, these two miners?” asked Wilson of me. “They were, eh? Well, the way it looks to me, they hurt some of the crew and got away, and the crew is still after them. They’ll be afraid to let ’em get away if they’ve had a fight. The miners would get word to the outside and they’d come back with help.”
“But Brack can’t be taking part in the chase if there is one,” I interrupted.
Wilson shook his head.
“He came back here. He wouldn’t be doing that if he was in the chase.”
“And he took Miss Baldwin with him,” supplemented Pierce.
“He probably sent the men on the chase as soon as he found that the miners had got away,” continued Wilson. “Then he’s alone——”
He caught himself; but we know what he intended to say.
“Chanler is better, you say?” I said, rising.
“Sure,” said Pierce. “He’s nervous and shaky, but he’s a human being again.”
“What are you going to do, sir?” asked Wilson as I stepped to the door. “Going up there? Well, there’s a canoe in the port storage-room forward, sir?”
“Good! Pierce, will you get the canoe out and put it in the water? I’ll go and have a little talk with Chanler.”
“You bet! Say, Brains, wha’d’ you do with the rifle you copped off Barry?”
I told him where I had hidden the weapon and went out. Chanler should have his chance. He must be a man now if ever. Riordan was with Chanler in the latter’s stateroom when I entered. Chanler had come out of his madness. He was nervous and looked ill, but his eyes were sane again. He was lying in a lounge-chair with Riordan at his side.
“Good gad, Gardy! I am glad to see you!” cried George as I entered. “Here, sit down and talk to me; talk to me, you hear? Say something. Riordan, you’re relieved. Take a rest, like Simmons. Gardy, say something. I’ve got to have somebody talk to me or I’ll—I’ll start hitting it up again.”
Riordan was regarding me suspiciously.
“How did you come aboard?” he demanded.
“Never mind how he came aboard,” interrupted George petulantly. “What d’you s’pose I care how he came aboard. He’s here now. Sit down, Gardy, and talk. You can go, Riordan; I’ll have you in when Gardy’s winded.”
Riordan went, scowling at me, and I seated myself in the chair he had vacated.
“Chanler, there is no time for me to talk to you for your entertainment,” I began abruptly. “You’re sober now, you’re yourself, and you can’t shirk responsibility on the pretense of being incapacitated. Brack got Miss Baldwin to accompany him up to the mine with the lie that I was up there and had suggested that she come up. He is up there with her—alone. And the devil only knows what his plans are.”
Chanler merely shuddered nervously.
“Darn you, Gardy! Here I was just coming out of a sinking spell and you come along and spoil everything. Why do you bring me news like that? It—it disturbs me, really.”
“No,” I said, “you can’t talk in that strain and have it accepted any longer, Chanler. You are a man again, not an alcoholic imbecile, and you’ve got to play the part.”
I told him the true purpose of Brack’s visit to Kalmut Fiord and of the day’s events.
“And now, by a lie he has Miss Baldwin go with him. Chanler, we can’t leave her up there with him, alone.”
Chanler writhed and groaned.
“Oh, Gardy! You’re terrible. What do you propose to do?”
“You are Miss Baldwin’s host. You and I will take a canoe which Pierce is getting ready and go up to the mine.”
“You’re mad,” he muttered. “What shape am I in to go anywhere?”
“The doctor is up there. It’s a short paddle.”
“But I’m not fit, Gardy; I tell you it will set me back.”
“You’ve got the choice before you, Chanler. Do you want to drop back into what you’ve been for the past week, or do you want to be a man?”
“I feel so rotten, Gardy.”
“You’ve got a chance now with Miss Baldwin. You’re almost your old self. Come, man; this is your chance to win back your standing with her.”
“I haven’t got a chance,” he said despairingly. “That’s all off. I know it.”
“And you’re quitting—leaving Brack to have his own way?”
“Brack? Brack! What do you mean?”
“While you’ve been lying in your room Brack has been doing his best to fascinate Miss Baldwin. You should know something of the man’s power. Well?”
“Brack?” Chanler was struggling to his feet. “Brack, eh? So he’s after Betty, and you—you say he’s made an impression?”
“You know the man,” I replied bitterly.
He straightened, struggling to tighten the set of his jaw.
“Brack, eh?” he repeated. “Brack and little Betty. Oh, no. We can’t have that. He doesn’t belong. Get your —— canoe ready. I suppose we’ll have to go up to this place, but I warn you, Gardy, I warn you I’m going to be awf’ly bored.”