[CHAPTER III]
MEASLES AND MUTINY
As Phil realized the full gravity of the situation he instinctively shrank from assuming the responsibility so unexpectedly thrust upon him. One of his aunt Ruth’s long-ago stories of a poor little bear who found himself alone in the great big world with all his troubles before him flashed into the boy’s mind, and he said to himself, “This little bear’s troubles have met him, sure enough, and in full force.”
But why should he assume this responsibility? This was not his expedition, and he had no interest in it save that of a passenger. It did not seem at all likely that it could succeed now, and as they must apparently return to St. Michaels sooner or later, why not do so at once, and get out of this scrape the easiest way possible. Or why not turn the whole business over to Mr. Sims, the engineer, who was well paid for his work, and who was supposed to have counted the cost of failure as well as of success. Yes, that was the thing to do: shift the responsibility to Mr. Sims, who was paid for assuming such duties.
But hold on, Phil Ryder! Have you not also been paid, at the very highest rate too, by the man who now lies so helpless before you, and whose fortunes are in your hands? Did he not rescue you from a certain death out there in those cold, cruel waters, when your bidarkie was on the point of foundering? Did you not gladly accept his offer to accompany him on this trip when all appeared smooth sailing? Have you not been fed and clothed at his expense? Above all, has he not proved his confidence in you by appointing you to a position of trust? Are such things as gratitude and loyalty unknown to you? You were proud to be called first mate yesterday, and now you shrink from performing the first and most evident duty of the office. You owe everything to Gerald Hamer, and yet you would intrust his fortunes to a man whom you know to be a drunkard whenever liquor is within his reach, and on whose movements the captain bade you keep a close watch. Shame on you, Phil Ryder! What would Serge say if you should do this cowardly thing? Would you ever dare face his honest gaze again?
These thoughts, which flashed through Phil’s mind in a few seconds, stung him as though they had been so many clearly uttered words. The hot blood rushed to his cheeks, and with a very determined look on his face the lad walked forward. He found Serge in the pilot-house, and at once laid the situation before him. In conclusion, he said:
“We must make some move at once, for this westerly wind is kicking up such a sea that our anchors won’t hold much longer. It would be even more dangerous to attempt a return to St. Michaels than to lie here. Besides that, to place ourselves at the mercy of our enemies for the winter would mean the utter ruin of the expedition and the loss to Gerald Hamer of every cent he has in the world. So, under the circumstances, as the present command of this craft seems to devolve on me, I propose to continue on our course, get rid of that fellow Strengel at the first opportunity, and push on up the river until our farther progress is barred by ice, or until we discover a good place in which to lay the boat up for the winter. We must surely find white men somewhere who will help us, too.”
“Yes,” replied Serge, “we are certain to if we can only get as far as the Anvik Mission. At any rate, Phil, what you propose to do is exactly the right thing, and you can count on me to back you up to the last gasp.”
“I knew I could, old man,” replied Phil, warmly. “Now let’s go below and make ready to start.”