SOUTHWARD HO!
For a moment the little group paused on the summit of the ridge, and
gazed down at the inlet with the brig floating amid the great cakes of
ice.
“Gosh, we weren’t far off after all!” exclaimed Jim.
Sergeant Manley smiled. “You don’t have to be far off to get lost up
here,” he said, “and I’m blessin’ the day we met you. Best of luck all
around. Saved you boys, saved us the Lord alone knows how many weeks of
mushing it, and ended the hunt for Jacquet.”
“Aye, an’ nae forgettin’ the tidy bit o’ siller comin’ to our pockets,”
put in the practical Campbell.
“Say, what _are_ they doing on the shore?” cried Tom who had been
studying the scene intently. “Look, they’ve got tents and I can see a lot
of the men there. Why aren’t they on the brig?”
Sergeant Manley whipped out his glasses and focused them on the shore of
the inlet.
“Something queer!” he exclaimed. “Wonder if the _Ruby’s_ stove too. Let’s
go.”
The next moment the powerful Newfoundlands were tearing down the slope
with the lighter, cream-colored Eskimo dogs in the rear, and with the two
stalwart policemen riding the runners and “yip-yiing” at the teams. Like
the wind the sleds raced down the steep hillside, and the two boys bent
their heads as the cold wind whistled across their faces.
Out on to the flat they dashed, and leaping off, the two officers brought
their teams to a sudden halt within a dozen yards of the first tent.
“Wall, I’ll be squeegeed!” cried Cap’n Pem as he turned at the sound
of the party’s arrival. “Where’n——” Then, catching sight of the boys’
companions he leaped forward with a hop and a skip.
“By the etarnal, I’m glad to see ye!” he cried. “Nor’west perlice, ain’t
ye? Where’n Sam Hill’d these youngsters pick ye up?”
“Any trouble?” demanded Sergeant Manley without stopping to reply to the
old whaleman’s queries.
“Trouble!” exploded old Pem. “Mut’ny! Them there critters has seized the
_Ruby_ an’ won’t let nary a man aboard, dod gast their hides!”
“Where’s the captain?” snapped out the sergeant as he slipped his carbine
from its sheath and Campbell did the same.
“Here he comes,” said Tom. “What started the mutiny, Cap’n Pem?”
“Them there gutter snipes!” replied the old whaleman. “Said this here was
a salvage job an’ wouldn’t stir hand nor foot lessen we give ’em half the
valer o’ the _Narwhal’s_ cargo. I swan, I never heered o’ sech a thing.
Never knowed a whaleman t’ talk o’ salvage. That’s what comes o’ these
here unions an’ new-fangled idees.”
“Hello!” cried Captain Edwards, who now joined the group with Mike and
the other members of the _Narwhal’s_ company behind him. “See you’ve
brought reënforcements, boys. Glad you’re here, officers.”
“Understand you’ve a mutiny aboard,” said the Sergeant.
“Not my ship,” replied the captain, “that’s the trouble. We could rush
’em but they’ve got their skipper an’ mates there and she’s a British
ship and I don’t know how far we Yankees could go.”
“Got any guns?” snapped out Manley.
“’Bout a dozen,” Captain Edwards assured him.
“Plenty!” declared the Sergeant. “Get your best men together, give them
the guns, and I’ll take charge. Campbell, get the kayaks ready.”
Throwing off his mackinaw, Sergeant Manley strode forward, uttered
sharp, crisp orders and with twelve of the _Narwhal’s_ crew, including
Nate, one-eyed Ned, Swanson, and Mr. Kemp, he marched to the waiting
kayaks, ordering the men to shoot and shoot to kill if he gave the word.
With ready carbine he stepped into a canoe. Behind him came the little
flotilla. Instantly all was excitement on the decks of the brigantine.
Men ran here and there. One or two leaped into the rigging, and the
watching boys saw the flash of steel, and the glint of gun barrels.
“Golly, they’re going to fight!” exclaimed Jim.
“B’jabbers thin ’twill be a sorry day for thim!” declared Mike. “’Tis the
King’s constabulary they do be afther resistin’, bad cess to thim.”
But the battle the boys expected never took place. No sooner did the
mutineers recognize the police officers than all ideas of resistance were
cast aside. Clambering on to the rail a man waved a white rag frantically
in token of surrender. An instant later the kayaks were alongside, and
Sergeant Manley and Campbell leaped over the bulwarks.
Cowed, with all the braggadocio gone from them, the _Ruby’s_ crew backed
away and stood muttering together near the foremast.
“Where’s the captain and mate?” snapped out the Sergeant, keeping the men
covered with his weapon.
“Aft, in the cabin,” replied one of the men.
“Search that crowd, Campbell!” ordered the Sergeant, “and hold ’em.”
A minute later he reappeared accompanied by the skipper and his chief
officer.
“Those are the ringleaders,” declared the captain, pointing to a big,
bull-necked, low-browed fellow and a weasel-faced, shifty-eyed creature.
“They started the trouble. Jones there’s the one killed the bo’sun.”
“That’s a lie!” roared the heavy man. “S’help me——”
“Silence!” roared Sergeant Manley. “Here, Campbell——”
With a quick motion, the bull-necked fellow whipped out a revolver. There
was a sharp report and the mutineer plunged forward upon the deck and
his gun clattered upon the planking. Campbell nonchalantly threw out the
empty shell and snapped another into his carbine.
Terrified at the death of their leader, the mutineers, already
frightened at the realization of their position, drew back with blanched
faces while the rat-faced ringleader fell on his knees and pleaded for
mercy.
“Get up!” ordered the Sergeant, and as the fellow rose a pair of
handcuffs snapped upon his wrists.
“We’ll take him along with us,” announced Sergeant Manley. “Any others
you want to lose, Captain?”
“I’d jolly well like to lose the whole bally lot,” replied the skipper
earnestly, “but I can’t. Got to handle the ship you know.”
“Don’t think they’ll give you further trouble,” declared the Sergeant.
“Have ’em searched. Keep ’em workin’ an’ carry a gun—each of you. Don’t
forget you’re on a British ship and labor unions don’t go under that
flag. You’re boss and let ’em know it. Expect those Yankees’ll be glad to
lend you a hand with this crowd.”
Presently Captain Edwards and old Pem, with the remaining members of the
_Narwhal’s_ crew, came aboard; the few belongings of the shipwrecked
whalemen were stowed and preparations were made for departure.
“Think I’ll go along with you to Rowe’s Welcome,” said Sergeant Manley
as the whale boats were lowered and the repentant crew prepared to tow
the _Ruby_ out of the worst of the ice. “Have to report the loss of the
_Narwhal_, and I’d like to see you safe on your way. Campbell, take the
dogs and go overland.”
Then, as the brigantine moved slowly from the inlet, bumping her blunt
bows into the floating ice and grinding between the cakes which went
bobbing astern, the boys had their first chance to tell the story of
their adventures.
“Thank heaven, this cruise is over—or near it!” cried Captain Edwards.
“I’d be a nervous wreck if I had you boys to look after much longer, even
if you do always come out smilin’ as a clam.”
“I’ll be b’iled if ye can’t git into more consarned scrapes’n a passel
o’ monkeys!” declared Cap’n Pem. “Fast as ye’re outen one ye’re into a
wusser.”
Mr. Kemp spat reflectively into the sea. “Some kids,” he remarked tersely.
At last the brigantine was clear of the shore ice, ahead stretched
patches and lanes of open water, and under a light wind the _Ruby_ went
bumping and crashing on her way towards Rowe’s Welcome and the stove
_Narwhal_.
“I suppose you men have a heap of queer adventures,” remarked Mr. Kemp as
Sergeant Manley stopped for a chat. “I was mate with a chap what was in
the force once, when I was on the destroyer.”
The Sergeant smiled. “Yes, we get our share,” he replied, “but most
of ’em pretty much alike—runnin’ down renegades and outlaws. If any
one wants plenty of exercise and out-doors air, I’ll recommend the
force. To-day’s job’s the queerest I ever had yet, though. A Northwest
policeman’s supposed to do most anything that turns up, but I’d never
have dreamed of bein’ called on to board a ship and put down a mutiny.”
The next day the _Ruby_ worked her way past Southampton Island into the
Welcome. Eagerly the boys peered ahead for the first glimpse of the
_Narwhal_ and the village of their Eskimo friends.
“It’s been a fine cruise,” declared Jim, “but it makes me feel almost
sick to think of leaving the old _Narwhal_ here.”
“Humph!” snorted Cap’n Pem. “Ships has got ter go sometimes—same’s folks.
Reckon the Welcome’s as good a place’s any ter let her ol’ bones rest.
’Sides, ye won’t lose nothin’, Dixon had her insured ter the limit.”
“That’s not it,” said Tom. “It’s like losing an old friend. Why, you know
how we’d feel if we left you or any of the others up here, Cap’n Pem.”
The old whaleman turned his head, blew his nose loudly on his red cotton
handkerchief and cleared his throat. “Derned if I don’t know jes how ye
feel,” he replied. “Hate fer to see a ol’ ship go myself. Wall, there
ain’t no help fer it. Everlastin’ lucky we salvaged all the cargo.”
“And luckier yet the _Ruby_ was up here,” added Captain Edwards.
“Seems to me the whole trip’s been lucky—no matter what happened,” said
Tom.
“Even with the cat,” laughed Jim.
“Gosh, where is she?” cried Tom. “I’d forgotten all about her and her
kittens.”
“Lef’ her an’ t’others behin’,” said Cap’n Pem. “Ye didn’t think we could
be a-totin’ a passel o’ cats ’long o’ us on that there sledge trip, did
ye? Jes the same, I reckon I got ter take back what I said erbout her.
Mebbe times has changed an’ cats is lucky now’days, what with injines an’
bumb lances an’ perlice a-puttin’ down mut’nies an’ all sech new-fangled
contraptions.”
“Hurrah, you do admit it!” cried Jim. “If we keep on we’ll knock all your
superstitions to pieces.”
But Cap’n Pem had not waited to hear.
A few minutes later, the _Ruby_ rounded a jutting cape and there, before
them, was the well-known cove with the _Narwhal_, forsaken and deserted,
looming above the cakes of ice.
“Why, why—Gosh! She’s afloat!” cried Tom, hardly able to believe his eyes.
“Holy mackerel, she is!” agreed Mr. Kemp.
“I’ll be blowed!” exclaimed Captain Edwards. “By glory, we may go home in
her yet!”
With wondering eyes the crew of the _Narwhal_ gazed upon their schooner,
for the ship they had left with her deck bulging above the bulwarks from
the terrific pressure of the ice; the vessel whose stern had been raised
high in air and that they were positive would sink to the bottom of the
bay when the ice broke up, was now floating on an even keel, low in the
water to be sure, but apparently sound and unhurt.
Scarcely had the _Ruby’s_ anchor dropped over before Captain Edwards,
Pem, Mr. Kemp, and the boys tumbled into a boat and were pulled rapidly
to the _Narwhal_. Grasping the main chains, Tom leaped on to the deck and
as he did so a ball of black fur sprang from a coil of rope and with a
friendly “meow” the ship’s cat rubbed herself against the boy’s legs.
“Hurrah!” he shouted as the others jumped on to the deck. “It’s all
right, here’s the cat!”
“Waall, I’ll be everlastin’ly swizzled!” cried Cap’n Pem as he looked
about. “The ol’ deck’s dropped inter place. I’ll be b’iled if I think
there’s a mite the matter with her!”
“Five feet of water in the hold,” announced Mr. Kemp who had been
sounding the well.
“Course there is,” replied the captain. “May have sprung a leak, but if
she did, it’s stopped now. If it hadn’t she’d have sunk. Reckon she dove
off the ice too an’ shipped some down the for’ard hatch. Men, what do you
say? Shall we take the chance and sail in the old _Narwhal_?”
“Aye! aye!” responded the men in chorus. “No lime juicers for us, long’s
the schooner’s a-floatin’.”
“But how—how could she be squeezed all together as she was and be all
right now?” asked Tom. “Why, her deck was like a hill and her bulwarks
were bent in.”
Cap’n Pem chuckled and rubbed his hands together in glee. “Didn’t I tell
ye whaleships was built to las’ forever?” he cried. “Bless yer souls!
what’s a mite o’ squeezin’ to a ol’ hooker like the _Narwhal_. I bet ye
she’s a-sailin’ an’ a-crusin’ an’ a-gettin’ jammed in the ice arter you
an’ me and the rest ’re dead an’ gone. Yes, sir, nothin’ like a Yankee
whaleship!”
All having agreed that they would sail home in the _Narwhal_, the crew
were transferred from the _Ruby_. Then Sergeant Manley bade them all
good luck and a quick voyage, and joining Campbell, who had arrived the
day previously, he sped swiftly into the southwest towards distant Fort
Churchill with his rat-faced mutineer prisoner.
With doleful shakes of his head the skipper of the _Ruby_ said farewell,
muttering something about “Yankees taking chances where no sane man
would,” and hoisting sail, he headed his tubby old craft for the open sea.
Working steadily, toiling for hour after hour, the men pumped the water
from the _Narwhal_. They labored with light hearts, for steadily they
gained and when at last the pumps sucked, and the following day the
sounding rod showed less than a foot of water, all knew that the schooner
was tight and safe. Rapidly the long deck house was dismantled, the big
foretopmast yard was sent up to the words of a rousing chantey, sails
were bent on and running rigging rove. Then, like beavers, the men and
the Eskimos toiled, bringing the casks of oils, the bales of whalebone,
the great bundles of skins and hides, the sacks of ivory, and the
countless other valuables, as well as stores and supplies, from the shore.
At last all was done. The last of the cargo was stowed. The standing
rigging was taut and well tarred. The carpenter had patched the cracked
rails and bulwarks, and had relaid some of the deck planks. The motor
had been overhauled and tested. The sails hung loosely in their brails
and the boats were at their davits. All this had taken much time to
accomplish, and the Arctic spring had come swiftly to the land. The
hills and valleys showed gray and bare. The black rocks loomed above
the patches of sodden snow. The ice, rotten and spongy, had almost
disappeared from the bay. The Eskimos’ igloos had long since gone, and
the natives were living in their skin tents once more. Far overhead in
the blue sky, the long files of geese and swans winged northward; great
flocks of eiders gathered on the bay; curlew and snipe filled the night
air with their plaintive whistling, and the snowbirds twittered from
rocks and last year’s weeds.
For the last time the boys paddled ashore in their kayak and bade
farewell to Nepaluka, to Newilic, to Kemiplu, the wrinkled old story
teller, and to all their Eskimo friends whom they had grown to love and
respect.
Then the clank of the windlass and the rousing chantey of the men warned
them it was time to leave, and swiftly they paddled to the schooner, gave
a farewell wave of their hands to the crowd of Eskimos ashore, and saw
their little kayak hoisted to the deck.
Oh first came the herring, the king o’ the sea,
Windy weather! Stormy weather!
He jumped on the poop. “I’ll be capt’n,” says he!
Blow ye winds westerly, gentle sou’westerly
Blow ye winds westerly—steady she goes!
Loudly the chantey rang over the bay. Loudly the Eskimos shouted and
yelled as the dripping chain came in link by link, and the great anchor
rose from the mud that had held it fast for half a year. Up the rigging
the men sped. Quickly the huge sails were spread and sheeted home. Braces
were manned, and the _Narwhal_ slowly gathered way and the short seas
splashed in spray from her forefoot. Out towards the vast reaches of the
bay she sailed. Behind her, the land grew dim and faint. To a fair, stiff
breeze she heeled, with every sail drawing, headed southward.
Battered by countless storms, scarred by ice, the veteran of a thousand
battles with hurricanes and tempest, with crushing floes and grinding
bergs, still staunch and sound, the gallant old schooner lifted her bow
and plunged through the hissing green seas.
Safe within her old hold were the hard won treasures of the Arctic; yard
long icicles and masses of frozen spray draped her bobstays, her rails,
and her chains. But shaking the icy brine from her decks as she reared
on the crests of the waves, sliding into the great hollows, crushing
ice cakes with her shearing bows, she tore onward, while at braces and
halyards and sheets the men roared out that most welcome and glorious of
whaleman’s songs:
Did you ever join in with those heart-ringing cheers,
With your face turned to Heaven’s blue dome,
As laden with riches you purchased so dear
You hoisted your topsails—bound home?
THE END
FOOTNOTES
[1] See _The Deep Sea Hunters_.
[2] The Arctic Fox is the one referred to in this story.
[3] The tribe of Eskimos inhabiting the vicinity of Rowe’s Welcome.