TARGET PRACTISE
The _Karluk_ was an eighty-five-ton schooner, Gloster Fisherman type,
with a length of ninety and a beam of twenty-five feet. Her enormous
stretch of canvas, spread to the limit on all possible occasions by
Captain Simms, was offset by the pendulum of lead that made up her keel,
and she could slide through the seas at twelve knots on her best point
of sailing--reaching--the wind abaft her beam.
After Rainey had demonstrated at the wheel that he had the mastery of
her and had shown that he possessed sea-legs, a fair amount of seacraft
and, what the sailors did not possess, initiative, Captain Simms
appointed him second mate.
"We don't carry one as a rule," the skipper said. "But it'll give you a
rating and the right to eat in the cabin." He had not brought up the
subject of Rainey's kidnapping, and Rainey let it go. There was no use
arguing about the inevitable. The rating and the cabin fare seemed
offered as an apology, and he was willing to accept it.
Carlsen acted as first mate, and Rainey had to acknowledge him
efficient. He fancied the man must have been a ship's surgeon, and so
picked up his seamanship. After a few days Carlsen, save for taking noon
observations with the skipper and working out the reckoning, left his
duties largely to Rainey, who was glad enough for the experience. A
sailor named Hansen was promoted to acting-quartermaster, and relieved
Rainey. Carlsen spent most of his time attendant on the girl or chatting
with the hunters, with whom he soon appeared on terms of intimacy.
The hunters esteemed themselves above the sailors, as they were, in
intelligence and earning capacity. The forecastlemen acted, on occasion,
as boat-steerers and rowers for the hunters, each of whom had his own
boat from which to shoot the cruising seals.
There were six hunters and twelve sailors, outside of a general
roustabout and butt named "Sandy," who cleaned up the forecastle and the
hunters' quarters, where they messed apart, and helped Tamada, the cook,
in the galley with his pots and dishes. But now there was no work in
prospect for the hunters, and they lounged on deck or in the 'midship
quarters, spinning yarns or playing poker. They were after gold this
trip, not seals.
"'Cordin' to the agreement," Lund said to Rainey, "the gold's to be
split into a hundred shares. One for each sailorman, an' they chip in
for the boy. Two for the hunters, two for the cook, four for Bergstrom,
the first mate, who died at sea. Twenty for 'ship's share.' Fifty shares
to be split between Simms an' me."
"What's the 'ship's share'?" asked Rainey.
"Represents capital investment. Matter of fact, it belongs to the gal,"
said Lund. "Simms gave her the _Karluk_. It's in her name with the
insurance."
"Then he and his daughter get forty-five shares, and you only
twenty-five?"
"You got it right," grinned Lund. "Simms is no philanthropist. It wa'n't
so easy for me to git enny one to go in with me, son. I ain't the first
man to come trailin' in with news of a strike. An' I had nothin' to show
for it. Not even a color of gold. Nothin' but the word of a dead Aleut,
my own jedgment, an' my own sight of an island I never landed on. Matter
of fact, Honest Simms was the only one who didn't laff at me outright.
It was on'y his bad luck made him try a chance at gold 'stead of keepin'
after pelts.
"An' we had a hard an' tight agreement drawn up on paper, signed,
witnessed an' recorded. 'Course it holds him as well as it holds me, but
he gits the long end of _that_ stick. W'en I read, or got it read to me,
in the Seattle _News-Courier_, that the _Karluk_ was listed as 'Arrived'
in San Francisco, it was all I could do to git carfare an' grub money.
If I hadn't bin blind, an' some of 'em half-way human to'ards a man with
his lights out, I'd never have raised it. I'd have got here someways,
matey, if I'd had to walk, but I'd have got here a bit late. Then I'd
have had to wait till Simms got back ag'in--an' mebbe starved to death.
"But I'm here an' I've got some say-so. One thing, you're goin' to git
Bergstrom's share. I don't give a damn where the doctor comes in. If he
marries the gal he'll git her twenty shares, ennyway. Though he ain't
married her yet. And I ain't through with Simms yet," he added, with an
emphasis that was a trifle grim, Rainey thought.
"The crew, hunters an' sailors, don't seem over glad to see me back,"
Lund went on. "Mebbe they figgered their shares 'ud be bigger. Mebbe the
doc's queered me. He's pussy-footin' about with 'em a good deal. But
I'll talk with you about that later. It's me an' you ag'in' the rest of
'em, seems to me, Rainey. The doc's aimin' to be the Big Boss aboard
this schooner. He's got the skipper buffaloed. But not me, not by a
jugful."
He slammed his big fist against the side of the bunk so viciously that
it seemed to jar the cabin. The blow was typical of the man, Rainey
decided. He felt for Lund not exactly a liking, but an attraction, a
certain compelled admiration. The giant was elemental, with a driving
force inside him that was dynamic, magnetic. What a magnificent pirate
he would have made, thought Rainey, looking at his magnificent
proportions and considering the crude philosophies that cropped out in
his talk.
"I'm in life for the loot of it, Rainey," Lund declared. "Food an' drink
to tickle my tongue an' fill my belly, the woman I happen to want, an'
bein' able to buy ennything I set my fancy on. The answer to that is
Gold. With it you can buy most enny thing. Not all wimmen, I'll grant
you that. Not the kind of woman I'd want for a steady mate. Thet's one
thing I've found out can't be bought, my son, the honor of a good
woman. An' thet's the sort of woman I'm lookin' for.
"I reckon yo're raisin' yore eyebrows at that?" he challenged Rainey.
"But the other kind, that'll sell 'emselves, 'll sell you jest as
quick--an' quicker. I'd wade through hell-fire hip-deep to git the right
kind--an' to hold her. An' I'll buck all hell to git what's comin' to me
in the way of luck, or go down all standin' tryin'. This is my gold, an'
I'm goin' to handle it. If enny one tries to swizzle me out of it I'm
goin' to swizzle back, an' you can lay to that. Not forgettin' them that
stands by me."
Between Lund and Simms there existed a sort of armed truce. No open
reference was made to the desertion of Lund on the floe. But Rainey knew
that it rankled in Lund's mind. The five, Peggy Simms, her father,
Carlsen, Lund and Rainey, ostensibly messed together, but Rainey's
duties generally kept him on deck until Carlsen had sufficiently
completed his own meal to relieve him. By that time the girl and the
captain had left the table.
Lund invariably waited for Rainey. Tamada kept the food hot for them.
And served them, Lund making good play with spoon or fork and a piece of
bread, the Japanese cutting up his viands conveniently beforehand.
To Rainey, Tamada seemed the hardest worked man aboard ship. He had
three messes to cook and he was busy from morning until night,
efficient, tireless and even-tempered. The crew, though they
acknowledged his skill, were Californians, either by birth or adoption,
and the racial prejudice against the Japanese was apparent.
A week of good wind was followed by dirty weather. The _Karluk_ proved a
good fighter, though her headway was materially lessened by contrary
wind and sea, and the persistence and increasing opposition of the storm
seemed to have a corresponding effect upon Captain Simms.
He grew daily more irritable and morose, even to his daughter. Only the
doctor appeared able to get along with him on easy terms, and Rainey
noticed that, to Carlsen, the skipper seemed conciliatory even to
deference.
Peggy Simms watched her father with worried eyes. The curious, tarnished
look of his tanned skin grew until the flesh seemed continually dry and
of an earthy color; his lips peeled, and more than once he shook as if
with a chill.
On the eleventh day out, Rainey went below in the middle of the
afternoon for his sea-boots. The gale had suddenly strengthened and,
under reefs, the _Karluk_ heeled far over until the hissing seas flooded
the scuppers and creamed even with the lee rail. In the main cabin he
found Simms seated in a chair with his daughter leaning over him,
speaking to her in a harsh, complaining voice.
"No, you can't do a thing for me," he was saying. "It's this sciatica.
I've got to get Carlsen."
As Rainey passed through to his own little stateroom neither of them
noticed him, but he saw that the captain was shivering, his hands
picking almost convulsively at the table-cloth.
"Where's Carlsen, curse him!" Rainey heard through his cabin partition.
"Tell him I can't stand this any longer. He's got to help me. Got to.
_Got to._"
As Rainey appeared, walking heavily in his boots, the girl looked up.
Her father was slumped in his chair, his face buried on his folded arms.
The girl glanced at him doubtfully, apparently uncertain whether to go
herself to find Carlsen or stay with her father.
"Anything I can do, Miss Simms? Your father seems quite ill."
The hesitation of the girl even to speak to him was very plain to
Rainey. Suddenly she threw up her chin.
"Kindly find Doctor Carlsen," she ordered, rather than requested. "Ask
him to come as soon as he can. I--" She turned uncertainly to her
father.
"Can I help you to get him into the cabin?" asked Rainey.
She thanked him with lips, not eyes, and he assisted her to shift the
almost helpless man into his room and bunk. He was like a stuffed sack
between them, save that his body twitched. While Rainey took most of the
weight, he marveled at the strength of the slender girl and the way in
which she applied it. Simms seemed to have fainted, to be on the verge
of unconsciousness or even utter collapse. Rainey felt his wrist, and
the pulse was almost imperceptible.
"I'll get the doctor immediately," he said.
She nodded at him, chafing her father's hands, her own face pale, and a
look of anxious fear in her eyes.
"Mighty funny sort of sciatica," Rainey told himself as he hurried
forward. He knew where Carlsen was, in the hunters' cozy quarters,
playing poker. From the chips in front of him he had been winning
heavily.
"The skipper's ill," said Rainey. "No pulse. Almost unconscious."
Carlsen raised his eyebrows.
"Didn't know you were a physician," he said. "Just one of his spells.
I'll finish this hand. Too good to lay down. The skipper can wait for
once."
The hunters grinned as Carlsen took his time to draw his cards, make his
bets and eventually win the pot on three queens.
"I wonder what your real game is?" Rainey asked himself as he affected
to watch the play. According to his own announcement Carlsen was
deliberately neglecting the father of the girl he was to marry and at
the same time slighting the captain to his own men. Carlsen drew in his
chips and leisurely made a note of the amount.
"Quite a while yet to settling-day," he said to the players. "Luck may
swing all round the compass before then, boys. All right, Rainey, you
needn't wait."
Rainey ignored the omitted "Mister." He held the respect of the sailors,
since he had shown his ability, but he knew that the hunters regarded
him with an amused tolerance that lacked disrespect by a small margin.
To them he was only the amateur sailor. Rainey fancied that the doctor
had contributed to this attitude, and it did not lessen his score
against Carlsen.
The captain did not make his appearance for that day, the next, or the
next. The men began to roll eyes at one another when they asked after
his health. Carlsen kept his own counsel, and Peggy Simms spent most of
her time in the main cabin with her eyes always roving to her father's
door. Rainey noticed that Tamada brought no food for the sick man.
Carlsen was the apparent controller of the schooner. Lund was quick to
sense this.
"We got to block that Carlsen's game," he said to Rainey. "There's a
nigger in the woodpile somewhere an' you an' me got to uncover him,
matey, afore we reach Bering Strait, or you an' me'll finish this trip
squattin' on the rocks of one of the Four Mountain Islands makin' faces
at the gulls.
"I wish you c'ud git under the skin of that Jap. No use tryin' to git in
with the crew or the hunters. They're ag'in' both of us--leastwise
the hunters are. The hands don't count. They're jest plain hash."
Lund spoke with an absolute contempt of the sailors that was
characteristic of the man.
"You think they'd put a blind man ashore that way?" asked Rainey.
"Carlsen would. In a minnit. He'd argy that you c'ud look out for me,
seein' as we are chums. As for you, you've bin useful, but you can't
navigate, an' you've helped train Hansen to yore work. You were in the
way at the start, an' he'd jest as soon git rid of you that road as enny
other. He don't intend you to have Bergstrom's share, by a jugful."
Lund grinned as he spoke, and Rainey felt a little chill raise
gooseflesh all over his body. It was not exactly fear, but--
"They don't look on us two as _mascots_," went on Lund. "But to git back
to that Jap. Forewarned is forearmed. He ain't over an' above liked, but
they've got used to him goin' back an' forth with their grub, an' they
sort of despise him for a yellow-skinned coolie.
"Now Tamada ain't no coolie. I know Japs. He's a cut above his job.
Cooks well enough for a swell billet ashore if he wanted it. An' there
ain't much goin' on that Tamada ain't wise to. See if you can't get next
to him. Trubble is he's too damn' neutral. He knows he's safe, becoz
he's cook an' a damn' good one. But he's wise to what Carlsen's playin'
at.
"Carlsen don't care for man, woman, God, or the devil. Neither do I," he
concluded. "An' I've got a card or two up my sleeve. But I'd sure like
to git a peep at what the doc's holdin'."
The storm blew out, and there came a spell of pleasant weather, with the
_Karluk_ gliding along, logging a fair rate where a less well-designed
vessel would barely have found steerage way, riding on an almost even
keel. Simms was still confined to his cabin, though now his daughter
took him in an occasional tray.
Except for observations and the details of navigation, Carlsen left the
schooner to Rainey. They were well off the coast, out of the fogs,
apparently alone upon the lonely ocean that ran sparkling to the far
horizon. It was warm, there was little to do, the sailors, as well as
the hunters, spent most of their time lounging on the deck.
Save at meal-times, Carlsen, for one who had announced himself as an
accepted lover, neglected the girl, who had devoted herself to her
father. Yet she seldom went into her cabin, never remained there long,
and time must have hung heavily on her hands. A girl of her spirit must
have resented such treatment, Rainey imagined, but reminded himself it
was none of his business.
Lund hung over the rail, smoking, or paced the deck, always close to
Rainey. The manner in which he went about the ship was almost uncanny.
Except that his arms were generally ahead of him when he moved, his
hands, with their woolly covering of red hair, lightly touching boom or
rope or rail, he showed no hesitation, made no mistakes.
He no longer shuffled, as he had on shore, but moved with a pantherlike
dexterity, here and there at will. When the breeze was steady he would
even take the wheel and steer perfectly by the "feel of the wind" on his
cheek, the slap of it in the canvas, or the creak of the rigging to tell
him if he was holding to the course. And he took an almost childish
delight in proclaiming his prowess as helmsman.
The booms were stayed out against swinging in flaws and the roll of the
sea, and Lund strode back and forth behind Rainey, who had the wheel.
The hunters were grouped about Carlsen, who, seated on the skylight, was
telling them something at which they guffawed at frequent intervals.
"Spinnin' them some of his smutty yarns," growled Lund, halting in his
promenade. "Bad for discipline, an' bad for us. He's the sort of
fine-feathered bird that wouldn't give those chaps a first look ashore.
Gittin' in solid with 'em that way is a bad steer. You can't handle a
man you make a pal of, w'en he ain't yore rank."
"Carlsen's slack, but he's a good sailorman," said Rainey casually.
"Damn' sight better sailorman than he is doctor," retorted Lund. "Hear
him the other mornin' w'en I asked him if he c'ud give me somethin' to
help my eyes hurtin'? 'I'm no eye specialist,' sez he. 'Try some boracic
acid, my man.' I wouldn't put ennything in my eyes _he'd_ give me, you
can lay to that. He'd give me vitriol, if he thought I'd use it. I
wouldn't let him treat a sick cat o' mine. He's the kind o' doctor that
uses his title to give him privileges with the wimmin. I know his sort."
Rainey wondered why Lund had asked Carlsen for a lotion if he did not
mean to use it, but he did not provoke further argument. Lund was going
on.
"He don't do the skipper enny good, thet's certain."
"Captain Simms seems to believe in him," answered Rainey. He wondered
how much of Carlsen's increasing dominance over the skipper Lund had
noticed.
"Simms is Carlsen's dog!" exploded Lund. "The doc's got somethin' on
him, mark me. Carlsen's a bad egg an', w'en he hatches, you'll see a
buzzard. An' you wait till he's needed as a doctor on somethin' that
takes more'n a few kind words or a lick out a bottle."
There was a stir among the hunters. Lund turned his spectacled eyes in
their direction.
"What are they up to now?" he queried. "Goin' to play poker? Wish I had
my eyes. I'd show 'em how to read the pips."
Hansen came aft, offering to take the wheel.
"They bane goin' to shute at targets," he said. "Meester Carlsen he put
up prizes. For rifle an' shotgun. Thought you might like to watch it,
sir."
Rainey gave over the spokes and went to the starboard rail with Lund,
watching the preparations between fore and main masts for the
competition, and telling Lund what was happening. Carlsen gave out some
shotgun cartridges from cardboard boxes, twelve to each of the six
hunters.
"Hunters pay for their own shells," said Lund. "But they buy 'em from
the ship. Mate's perkisite. They usually have some shells on hand for
the rifles, but the paper cases o' the shotgun cartridges suck up the
damp an' they keep better in the magazine in the cabin. What they
shootin' at? Bottles?"
Sandy, the roustabout, had been requisitioned to toss up empty bottles,
and those who failed cursed him for a poor thrower. A hunter named
Deming made no misses, and secured first prize of ten dollars in gold,
with a man named Beale scoring two behind him, and getting half that
amount from Carlsen.
Then came the test with the rifles. The weapons were all of the same
caliber, well oiled, and in perfect condition. As Lund had said, each of
the hunters had a few shells in his possession, but they lacked the
total of six dozen by a considerable margin.
Carlsen went below for the necessary ammunition while the target was
completed and set in place. A keg had been rigged with a weight
underslung to keep it upright, and a tin can, painted white, set on a
short spar in one end of the keg. A light line was attached to a bridle,
and the mark lowered over the stern, where it rode, bobbing in the tail
of the schooner's wake, thirty fathoms from the taffrail where the crowd
gathered.
Carlsen, returning, ordered Hansen to steer fine. He gave each
competitor a limit of ten seconds for his aim, contributing an element
of chance that made the contest a sporting one. Without the counting,
each would have deliberately waited for the most favorable moment when
the schooner hung in the trough and the white can was backed by green
water. As it was, it made a far-from-easy mark, slithering, lurching,
dipping as the _Karluk_ slid down a wave or met a fresh one, the can
often blurred against the blobs of foam.
More bullets hit the keg than the can, and Carlsen was often called upon
as umpire. But the tin gradually became ragged and blotched where the
steel-jacketed missiles tore through. Beale and Deming both had five
clean, undisputed hits, tying for first prize. Beale offered to shoot it
off with six more shells apiece, and Deming consented.
"Can't be done," declared Carlsen. "Not right now, anyway. I gave out
the last shell there was in the magazine. If there are any more the
skipper's got them stowed away, and I can't disturb him."
"Derned funny," said Deming, "a sealer shy on cartridges! Lucky we ain't
worryin' about thet sort of a cargo."
"Probably plenty aboard somewhere," said Carlsen, "but I don't know
where they are. Sorry to break up the shooting. You boys have got me
beaten on rifles and shotguns," he went on, producing from his hip
pocket a flat, effective-looking automatic pistol of heavy caliber. "How
are you on small arms?"
The hunters shook their heads dubiously.
"Never use 'em," said Deming. "Never could do much with that kind,
ennyhow. Give me a revolver, an' I might make out to hit a whale, if he
was close enough, but not with one o' them."
"Not much difference," said, Carlsen. "Any of you got revolvers?"
No one spoke. It was against the unwritten laws of a vessel for pistols
to be owned forward of the main cabin. Beale finally answered for the
rest.
"Nary a pistol, sir."
"Then," said Carlsen, "I'll give you an exhibition myself. Any bottles
left? Beale, will you toss them for me?"
There were eight shots in the automatic, and Carlsen smashed seven
bottles in mid-air. He missed the last, but retrieved himself by
breaking it as it dipped in the wake. The hunters shouted their
appreciation.
"Break all of 'em?" Lund asked Rainey. "Enny bottles left at all?"
He walked toward the taffrail, addressing Carlsen.
"Kin you shoot by _sound_ as well as by sight, Doc?" he challenged.
"I fancy not," said Carlsen.
"If I had my eyes I'd snapshoot ye for a hundred bucks," said Lund. "As
it is, I might target one or two. Rainey, have some one run a line,
head-high, an' fix a bottle on it, will ye? I ain't got a gun o' my own,
Doc," he continued, "will you lend me yours?" Carlsen filled his clip
and Lund turned toward Rainey, who was rigging the target.
"I'll want you to tap it with a stick," he said. "Signal-flag staff'll
do fine."
Rainey got the slender bamboo and stood by. Lund felt for the cord,
passed his fingers over the suspended bottle and stepped off five paces,
hefting the automatic to judge its balance.
"Ruther have my own gun," he muttered. "All right, tetch her up,
Rainey."
Rainey tapped the bottle on the neck and it gave out a little tinkle,
lost immediately in the crash of splintering glass as the bottle, hit
fairly in the torn label, broke in half.
"How much left?" asked Lund. "Half? Tetch it up."
Again he fired and again the bullet found the mark, leaving only the
neck of the bottle still hanging. Lund grinned.
"Thet's all," he said. "Jest wanted to show ye what a blind man can do,
if he's put to it."
There was little applause. Carlsen took his gun in silence and moved
forward with the hunters and the onlookers, disappearing below. Rainey
took the wheel over from Hansen and ordered him forward again.
"Given 'em something to talk about," chuckled Lund. "Carlsen wanted to
show off his fancy shootin'. Wal, I've shown 'em I ain't entirely
wrecked if I ain't carryin' lights. An' I slipped more'n one over on
Carlsen at that."
Rainey did not catch his entire meaning and said nothing.
"Did you get wise to the play about the shells?" asked Lund. "A smart
trick, though Deming almost tumbled. Carlsen got those dumb fools of
hunters to fire away every shell they happened to have for'ard. If the
magazine's empty, I'll bet Carlsen knows where they's plenty more
shells, if we ever needed 'em bad. But now those rifles an' shotguns
ain't no more use than so many clubs--_not to the hunters_. An' he's
found out they ain't got enny pistols. _He's_ got one, an' shows 'em how
straight he shoots, jest in case there should be enny trubble between
'em. Plays both ends to the middle, does Carlsen. Slick! But he ain't
won the pot. They's a joker in this game. Mebbe he holds it, mebbe not."
He nodded mysteriously, well pleased with himself.
"Don't suppose _you_ brought a gun along with ye?" he asked Rainey.
"Might come in handy."
"I wasn't expecting to stay," Rainey replied dryly, "or I might have."
Lund laughed heartily, slapping his leg.
"That's a good un," he declared. "It would have bin a good idea, though.
It sure pays to go heeled when you travel with strangers."