A WELCOME MISSIONARY.
Although the outer garments of wolf fur belonging to the mysterious
stranger were also missing, our lads were not at first at all uneasy
concerning his absence, but imagined that their guest had merely gone
for a breath of fresh air or to examine the situation of the schooner
by daylight. So they mended the fire and got breakfast ready,
expecting with each moment that he would return. As he did not, Cabot
finally went on deck to look for him.
The morning was bitterly cold, and the harbour was covered with ice
sufficiently strong to bear a man.
"The old 'Bee's' found her winter berth at last," reflected Cabot, as
he glanced about him, shivering in the keen air.
To his disappointment he could discover no trace of the man upon whom
they were depending to aid their escape from this icy prison. Cabot
even dropped to the beach and made his way to the crest of the inland
bluffs, but could see no living thing on all the vast expanse of snow
outspread before him.
"I guess he has gone, all right," muttered the lad, "and we are again
left to our own resources, only a little worse off than we were before.
Why he came and helped us out at all, though, is a mystery to me."
With this he retraced his steps and conveyed the unwelcome news to
White.
"It is evident then," said the latter, "that we must stay here, alive
or dead, all winter. And I expect we'll be a great deal more dead than
alive long before it is over."
"Oh, I don't know," replied Cabot. "This doesn't seem to be such a
very uninhabited place, after all. I'm sure we've had a regular job
lot of visitors during the past week, and a good many of them, too. So
I don't see why we shouldn't have other callers before the winter is
over. When the next one comes, though, we'll take care and not let him
out of our sight. Why didn't you tie a string to one of those Indians,
as I advised?"
"Because they tied me first," answered White, laughing in spite of his
anxiety. "Why didn't you do it yourself?"
"Because all the tying apparatus was aboard the schooner, and I hadn't
so much as a shoe-string about me. I wish I could have tied that
scoundrel Arsenic, though. If ever I meet him again I'll try to teach
him a lesson in gratitude. But what do you propose to do to-day,
skipper?"
"I suppose we might as well unbend and stow our canvas, since the 'Bee'
'll not want to use sails again for a while. We might also send down
topmasts, stow away what we can of the running rigging, get those
provisions on the beach aboard again, and----"
"Hold on!" cried Cabot, "you've already laid out all the work I care to
tackle in one day, and if you want any more done you'll have to ship a
new crew."
It was well that the lads had ample occupation for that day, otherwise
they would have been very unhappy. Even Cabot, for all his assumed
cheerfulness, realised the many dangers with which they were beset. He
believed that their unknown friend had deserted them, and that the
Indians might return at any moment in over-powering numbers. He knew
that without outside assistance and guidance it would be impossible to
traverse the vast frozen wilderness lying between them and
civilisation. He knew also that if he and White remained where they
were they must surely perish before the winter was over. So the
prospect was far from cheerful, and that evening the "Sea Bee's" crew,
wearied with their hard day's work, ate their supper in thoughtful
silence.
While they were thus engaged both suddenly sprang to their feet with
startled faces. A gun had been fired from close at hand, and with its
report came a confusion of shouts. Evidently more visitors had
arrived; but were they friends or foes?
White thought the latter, and snatched up a loaded revolver, declaring
that the Indians should not again get possession of his schooner
without fighting for it; but Cabot believed the new-comers to be
friends.
"If they were enemies," he argued, "they would have got aboard and
taken us by surprise before making a sound." So saying he hurried up
the companionway, with White close at his heels.
"Hello!" shouted Cabot. "Who are you?"
"We are friends," answered a voice from the beach in English, but with
a strong German accent. "Can you show us a light?"
"Of course we can, and will in a moment," replied Cabot joyously.
"White, get a----"
But White had already darted back into the cabin for a lantern, with
which he speedily emerged, and led the way to the beach. Here our lads
found a dog sledge with its team, and an Eskimo driver, who was already
collecting wood for a fire, together with a white man, tall, straight,
middle-aged, and wearing a long beard streaked with grey.
"God be with you and keep you," he said, as he shook hands with Cabot
and White. "Where is the captain of this schooner?"
Cabot pointed to his companion.
"Where then is the crew?"
At this both lads laughed, and Cabot replied:
"I am the crew."
"You don't mean to tell me that you two boys navigated that vessel to
this place unaided."
"We certainly did, sir, though we have not done much navigating for
more than a month now. But will you please tell us who you are, where
you came from, and how you happened to discover us? Though we are not
surprised at being discovered, for we seem to be located on a highway
of travel and have visitors nearly every day."
"Indeed," replied the stranger; "and yet you are stranded in one of the
least known and most inaccessible bays of the coast. It is rarely
visited even by natives, and I doubt if any white man was ever here
before your arrival."
"Then how did you happen to come?" asked Cabot.
"I came by special request to find you and offer whatever assistance I
may render. I am the Rev. Ostrander Mellins, Director of a Moravian
Mission Station located on the coast some twenty-five miles from this
point."
"But how did you know of us?" cried Cabot, in amazement. "We haven't
sent any telegrams nor even written any letters since coming here."
"Did not you send a messenger yesterday?"
"No, sir. Most of yesterday we were prisoners in the hands of some
rascally Indians."
"I perceive," said the missionary, "that I have much to hear as well as
to tell, and, being both tired and cold, would suggest that we seek a
more sheltered spot than this, where we may converse while my man
prepares supper."
At these words both our lads were covered with confusion, and, with
profuse apologies for their lack of hospitality, besought the
missionary to accompany them into the schooner's cabin.
"We should have asked you long ago," declared White, "only we were so
overcome with joy at meeting a white man who could talk to us that we
really didn't know what we were about."
"Won't your man and dogs also come aboard?" asked Cabot, anxious to
show how hospitable they really were.
"No, thank you," laughed the missionary. "They will do very well where
they are."
In the cabin, which had never seemed more cheerful and comfortable, the
lads helped the new-comer remove his fur garments, plied him with hot
tea, together with everything they could think of in the way of
eatables, and at the same time told him their story as they had told it
to their other guest of the night before.
"And you did not send me any message?" he asked, with a quizzical smile.
"I know!" cried Cabot. "It was the man-wolf. But where did you meet
him, and why didn't he come back with you? How did he manage to
explain the situation? We thought he couldn't talk."
"I don't know that he can," replied the missionary, "for I have never
heard him speak, nor do I know any one who has. Neither did I meet
him. In fact I have never seen him, but I think your messenger must be
one and the same with your man-wolf, since he signed his note
'Homolupus.'"
"His note," repeated Cabot curiously. "Did he send you a note?"
"Not exactly; but he left one for me at a place near the station, where
he has often left furs to be exchanged for goods, and called my
attention to it by a signal of rifle shots. When I reached the place I
was not surprised to find him gone, for he always disappears when it is
certain that his signal has been understood. I was, however, greatly
surprised to find, instead of the usual bundle of furs, only a slip of
paper supported by a cleft stick. On it was written:
"'Schooner laden with provisions stranded in pocket next South of
Nukavik Arm. Crew in distress. Need immediate assistance.
Homolupus.'"
"With such a message to urge me, I made instant preparation, and came
here with all speed."
"It was awfully good of you," said White.
"Perhaps not quite so good as you may think, since our annual supply
ship having thus far failed to make her appearance, the mission is very
short of provisions, and the intimation that there was an abundance
within reach relieved me of a load of anxiety. So if you are disposed
to sell----"
"Excuse me for interrupting," broke in Cabot, "but, before you get to
talking business, please tell us something more about the man who sent
you to our relief. Who is he? Where does he live? What does he look
like? Why does he disappear when you go in answer to his signals? Why
do you call him a wolf-man? What----"
"Seems to me that is about as many questions as I can remember at one
time," said the missionary, smiling at Cabot's eagerness, "and I am
sorry that, with my slight knowledge of the subject, I cannot answer
them satisfactorily. The man-wolf was well known to this country
before I came to it, which was three years ago, and dwells somewhere to
the southward of this place, though no one, to my knowledge, has ever
seen his habitation. Some of the Eskimo can point out its location,
but they are in such terror of him that they give it a wide berth
whenever travelling in that direction. As I said, I have never seen
him, nor have I ever known of his holding communication other than by
writing with any human being. The natives describe him as a man of
great size with the head of a wolf."
"There! I was sure it wasn't imagination," interrupted Cabot
excitedly. "When I first saw him his head and face were those of a
wolf, but the next time they were those of a man, and so I thought I
must have dreamed the wolf part. I wonder how he manages it, and I
wish I knew how he produces those lightning flashes. If this were a
more civilised part of the world I should say that they resulted from
electricity--but of course that couldn't be away off here in the
wilderness. I asked him about them but got no answer."
"Have you, then, seen and spoken with him?" asked the missionary.
"Of course we have seen him, for he spent last night in this very
cabin, and we have spoken to him, though not with him, for he is dumb."
"I envy you the privilege of having met him, and am greatly relieved to
learn that he is so wholly human; for the natives regard him as either
a god or a devil, I can't tell which, and ascribe to him superhuman
powers. He has righted many a wrong, punished many an evil-doer, saved
many a poor soul from starvation, and performed innumerable deeds of
kindness. He dares everything and seems able to do anything. He is at
once the guardian angel and the terror of this region, and, on the
whole, I doubt if there is in all the world to-day a more remarkable
being than the man-wolf of Labrador."