"We're pelagic, you know," said Lund. "We ain't trespassin' on purpose. Didn't even know you owned the island."
"It is on our charts," said Ito crisply, as if that settled the right of dominion. "How did you come here at all?"
"We was brought," said Lund. "Got froze in north o' Wrangell. Gale set us west as we come out o' the Strait. We're bound for Corwin. Nothin' contraband. All reg'lar. Six hunters, two damaged in the gale, though the doc's fixed 'em up. Twelve seamen, one boy, an' a nigger cook who's pizened himself with his own cookin'. Doc's bringin' him round, too, though he don't deserve it. Want to make yore inspection? We're in no hurry to git away until the ice melts. Take yore time."
The little, dapper officer with his keen, high-cheeked face, and his shoe-brush hair, got up and bowed, with a side glance at Peggy Simms.
"It is not usual for young ladies to be so far north." His endeavor at gallantry was obvious.
"I am with my father," said the girl, looking at Rainey, enjoying the situation.
"Where I go she goes," said Lund. And looked in turn at her with relish in his double suggestion. He, too, was playing the game, gambling, believing in his luck, reckless, now he had set the board.
They passed through the corridor. Lund opened up the strong-room, and then the galley. It was orderly, and there was a moaning figure in Tamada's bunk, a tossing figure with a head bound in a red bandanna above the black face and neck that showed above the blankets. The eyes were closed. The black hands, showing lighter palms, plucked at the coverings.
"Delirious," said Lund. "Serves him right. He's a rotten cook."
"Have you all the medicines you need?" asked Ito. "I can send our surgeon."