The magic of her voice and soft presence had its influence upon the Russians, and they gathered and surged, and separated into groups. Seven, after a shrewd glance toward the barren shore, moved with Slim to the galley where the leader had stationed himself. These seven raised their arms and turned toward Stirling.
"Come up!" shouted the Ice Pilot, gesturing to help make clear the meaning of the words.
Fear had gripped the hearts of every Russian aboard the Pole Star; the unknown sea and the frost which nipped to the bone had driven a panic within their breasts. The leader had stated that it was possible to reach a Hudson Bay fort before the setting in of winter, and had added that the sea would soon be frozen and the ship crushed.
They believed this to be the case, and the seven which Helen Marr had persuaded to remain were in danger from their fellows. Mutiny might spread. The leader quickly shouted an order, and the boxes and cans were hurled overboard to the ice floe, the Russians following in a long line. They stood and glanced upward, their mouths agape, their whiskered faces white with hoarfrost.
"Good-bye!" shouted Stirling, waving the rifle. "Good-bye to you all!"
The leader snarled an answer and set about getting the load onto the sled where there was scant room for one half of the boxes and cans thrown overside. The remainder was left as the troop started across the floes and straggled to the beach. Here they turned and watched the ship as if loath to give it up.
The girl climbed swiftly to the quarter-deck to Stirling's side.
"Seven stayed," she said, breathlessly. "Seven, and the man from San Francisco. Didn't I do well?"
Stirling smiled down upon her and touched his cap. "Yes, little captain," he said, gallantly. "You did fine! Tell Slim and four of the squad—I guess you can make the Russians understand—to jump below and get steam on in the boilers. Tell the men to bank the fires when they get well started."
The girl touched her forehead with a regulation salute as she turned and smiled upward from the waist of the ship, then advanced upon the dock rat and the Russians by the galley door. The Russians understood her gestures if not her words, and Slim frowned and scratched his matted head, glancing from Russian to Russian. They had accepted him as their leader without question, but their sheeplike eyes strayed aft and fastened upon the grim figure of Stirling.