And so came the last day in Kalmut Fiord; and I greeted its dawning
from the _Wanderer’s_ decks, where I had paced at intervals during the
night, and I was not tired. In amazement I watched the sun roll back
the fog-banks from the hills, for I was seeing with new eyes, and the
sense of a new beginning, of a freshening of life, was upon me.
That same incomprehensible force which was clearing the valley of its
nightly cloak of gray was stirring me, troubling me, lifting me.
Vaguely—for my thoughts were elsewhere—I sensed the quickening of my
being and knew that never had I been so thoroughly alive.
That night had been a period of alternate joy and torture to me. I
flung myself on my bed, but the stateroom seemed insufferably small
and confining.
I sprang up and went out, pacing the decks. I passed Betty’s
state-room and the thrill that leapt within me sent me staggering on,
drunken with new feelings. I passed Chanler’s room, and the thrill
died and I was bitter. I sought the fore-deck and in my mind reenacted
the meeting with Brack. There he had stood, there Betty, here myself.
There her shoulder had touched mine and here I had met Brack as he
hurled himself upon her. There Brack had kissed her, while I lay on
the deck; there near the rail he had held her, and there I had taken
her from him and for a brief moment had held her in my arms.
I pictured the night when she had called to him, and the memory of her
tone was like a storm, shaking me to my knees. I looked in on Chanler
and found him awake and reading. There was in his eyes the strength of
a man who has won through a crisis and found peace. And well there
might be! I told him that I wished to get back to Seattle, so I might
quit him, as soon as possible, and went out before he could reply.
Old Slade, standing the dog-watch, approached me wonderingly and asked
if I couldn’t sleep.
“Sleep!” I sneered. “Why should a man want to do anything so simple as
sleep when he can walk out here beneath the stars and torture himself
with thoughts.”
He stroked his long beard. “Pain cometh to all men——”
“So I’ve heard,” I replied curtly, and walked away.
And so I greeted the dawning of our last day in the Hidden Country
unslept; and yet I was as fresh as Wilson when he came hobbling up to
judge the weather.
“A beautiful day, Mr. Pitt,” said he, after studying the sky. “The
good weather will hold, and short-handed as we are that’s what we must
be praying for.”
“We sail today, then?”
“This afternoon, sir.”
“Good!” I said. “It will be a relief to get out of here.”
I breakfasted alone. From the cabin-door I saw Betty Baldwin come from
her stateroom, stand blinking in the morning sun and filling her lungs
with the tingling air. And she was beautiful to my eyes as she had
never been before, and I entered my stateroom and locked the door.
Hours afterward I heard Black Sam dropping the paddles into a canoe
alongside; heard him telling Betty that the craft was ready. Presently
Chanler knocked on my door.
“Oh, Gardy! Come out here.”