PHIL ASSUMES COMMAND AND ASSERTS HIS AUTHORITY
There was much alarm among the scanty crew of the _Chimo_ when the
pitiable state of their leader was discovered, and the engineer was
especially loud in his protests against attempting to continue the
voyage under such discouraging conditions. He declared that none
but madmen would think of doing such a thing, and that unless they
immediately returned to St. Michaels they would all perish in that
wilderness of icy water and frozen mud. At first the millwrights, who
had heretofore had no experience in rough travel, were inclined to
agree with him; but Phil stated his view of the situation so clearly,
and was so sturdily supported by Serge, that they were finally won over
to his way of thinking. So the discontented engineer was forced to
yield to the wishes of the majority.
Five miles from Pastolik they stopped at the Eskimo village of
Coatlik for a supply of wood, and here Serge, with his ability to
speak Russian, proved invaluable. Not only did he conduct the wood
negotiations, but he succeeded in purchasing a number of freshly killed
wild-geese, which were at that time flying southward in vast flocks.
Above all, he secured a native pilot, who promised to go with them
until they met running ice.
Nor did the services of the young Russo-American diminish one whit in
value after Coatlik was left behind. He alone knew how to prepare the
broths which formed the sole nourishment that the sick man was able to
take. He only could converse with the native pilot, and learn from him
the mysteries of the mighty river. He it was who was always cheerful,
and could swing the lustiest axe, when, as often happened, they were
obliged to renew their supply of fuel from chance drift piles; and it
was he who must attend the sick man at night, because the faintest
murmur served to wake him. So Serge was the very life of that dreary
voyage, and but for him Phil knew it must have been abandoned long
before they reached the haven for which they were steering.
And it was a dreary voyage. Day after day witnessed the same monotony
of turbid waters, so widespread that one bank was often invisible
from the other, and a deadly level of drowned lands bounded only by
the low, far-away horizon. Day after day brought the same gray skies,
chill winds, rain squalls, and flurries of snow. Every night saw heavy
frosts, and it grew hourly more apparent that the stern reign of winter
was close at hand.
At long intervals lonely groups of sod-covered huts gave sign that
human beings dwelt even in those unlovely wastes, but save for fuel
the young commander of the _Chimo_ would not pause to make their
acquaintance. From earliest dawn until dusk he forced the little craft
at full speed against the swift current, often grounding on sand-bars
in spite of the native pilot, whose only knowledge was of the best
channel but not of its obstructions.
After two days they began to see low hills on the north, and on this
side the river-bank became noticeably higher. Although this was
encouraging, it produced but slight impression on the spirits of the
depressed crew, whose situation was indeed becoming alarming. They were
worn out with anxiety, overwork, and insufficient food, for they had
neither the time nor inclination to do any cooking except for the sick.
The captain lay in a state of semi-stupor, and another cot within the
same enclosure held one of the millwrights, who had been stricken with
the dread disease twenty-four hours later.
By the end of the first week in October they were some two hundred
miles from the mouth of the river, with nearly one hundred yet to go
before they could reach Anvik, to gain which Phil was directing all
his energies. He knew not what they would find there; but he had an
intuition that help of some kind awaited them at that point. At any
rate, he was determined to reach it somehow.
On the 7th of October ice began to run in the river, and with its
first appearance the native pilot insisted upon starting back towards
his now distant home. That night, amid the howlings of a tempest
that threatened to tear the _Chimo_ from her anchorage, the stricken
millwright died.
When Phil went to the engineer’s room to report this distressing news
he was filled with wrath to find that individual lying in his bunk and
indulging to excess in the contents of a case of brandied peaches that
he had stolen from the cargo.
Without a word Phil picked up the case and flung it into the river.
“I’ll see you again in the morning, sir, when you are sober,” he said,
as he left the room, and, locking the door, put the key in his own
pocket.
That night of storm, death, and despair was one that neither Phil nor
Serge will ever forget. For long hours they sat by the bedside of the
captain, whom they believed to be sleeping, discussing in low tones
their melancholy situation.
Suddenly they were startled by a voice from the sick man, who said,
feebly, “Get me to Anvik, boys, if you can, and you will save my life.”
It was the first time he had spoken rationally for several days, and
they had no idea that he was even conscious of their presence; but Phil
answered, promptly, “All right, captain; we’ll get you there, never
fear.”
“Yes,” added Serge, cheerily, “you may rest easy, sir, for when Phil
uses that tone he means just what he says, and I know that I’ve got to
back him up.”
Neither of the lads got more than an hour’s sleep that night, and
long before daylight they were again at work. Phil and the surviving
millwright were getting up steam, while Serge was taking unusual pains
in preparing breakfast, for they all realized that they must now lay in
an extra supply of strength.
Not until breakfast was ready was Mr. Sims released from the
confinement of his room. After eating his meal in sullen silence he
said to Phil, “Well, young man, what do you propose to do to-day?”
“I propose to push on up the river as usual.”
“And who are you going to get to run your engine?”
“I expect you to do it, sir.”
“Well, you are expecting a good deal more than you’ll get,” cried the
man, rising from the table in his excitement. “I’ve been bullied by a
parcel of boys just as long as I intend to be; so now I want you to
understand that I’ll not allow the engine of this boat to make another
turn except to run her into winter-quarters, and that’s got to be done
in a hurry, too.”
“That’s exactly what I mean to do with her,” replied Phil, quietly.
“Where?”
“At Anvik, less than one hundred miles from here.”
“Hundred nothing!” screamed the man. “You’ll put her in winter-quarters
within ten miles of this very spot or not at all; for you can’t run the
engine, and you haven’t got a man aboard except me who can, and you
know it.”
The furious man had stepped towards Phil, and was shaking a trembling
fist in the lad’s face as he shouted these last words. Serge stood
close behind him.
Just then the young mate nodded his head; both lads sprang upon the man
at once, and in spite of his fierce struggles bore him to the deck. In
another moment he was securely and helplessly bound.
“How do we generally dispose of mutineers aboard this ship?” asked
Phil, as he regained his feet.
“Set ’em ashore, sir, and leave ’em to shift for themselves,” answered
Serge, grimly.
“Very well; and as we haven’t any time to lose, you may get the dingey
overboard at once. Call Isaac to help you, and tell him the reason for
this extra work.”
“You don’t dare do it,” muttered the prostrate man, as Serge started to
obey this order.
“Don’t I?” queried Phil. “If you think so you must be ignorant of what
constitutes a mutiny, as well as of the powers vested in the captain of
a ship.”
“But you aren’t the captain of this ship.”
“Perhaps I’m not. At the same time I am acting as captain by authority
of the owner, and I am performing all of a captain’s duties; _all_ of
them, you understand.”
By this time the small boat was alongside, and leaving the bewildered
millwright in her, Serge regained the deck, where he awaited further
instructions.
“Select such of your belongings as you wish to take with you, and they
shall be put into the boat,” said Phil.
“Oh, rats!” cried the man, angrily.
“Take hold of him!” ordered the mate.
Serge obeyed, and in another minute the mutinous engineer found himself
in the small boat, which was actually being shoved off.
“Shall I hunt a native village to leave him at?” asked Serge.
“No. We haven’t time for that. Land him wherever it happens.”
“Look here, boys,” said the man, humbly, as he cast a shuddering glance
over the icy waters and at the bleak desolation of the shore beyond. “I
weaken. Take me back, and I’ll go to work.”
“Will you run the engine as far as Anvik?”
“I’ll run her till you give the word to stop.”
“And promise on your honor not to touch another drop of liquor before
this steamer is laid up in winter-quarters?”
“Yes.”
So that was the end of the mutiny, and once more the _Chimo_ held
her way up the great river, whose swift current was now covered with
floating ice as far as the eye could reach.
Late that afternoon a new bewilderment confronted the anxious lads.
They were involved in a labyrinth of channels, all of about the same
width, and apparently pouring forth equal volumes of water. But while
they all looked equally inviting, only one was that of the main river;
the others were mouths of the great Shagelook slough, which would
lead them into an unknown wilderness. One meant safety and the others
disaster. But which was which?
In this dilemma Phil decided to anchor and wait for another
daylight. While they thus waited――wearied, anxious, and wellnigh
despairing――there came a shout from out of the darkness that thrilled
them with a new life, for the words were in their own tongue.
“Steamer ahoy! ahoy! Hello on board the steamer!” rang cheerily from
off the dark waters.
“Hello! hello! Come this way!” answered Phil from the pilot-house.