RAINEY MAKES DECISION
"Well?" asked Lund, "what are you goin' to do about it, Rainey? Stick
with me, or line up with the rest of 'em, work yore passage, an' thank
'em for nothing when they divvy the stuff an' leave you out? You've got
to decide one way or the other damn' quick, for the show-down's on the
program for ter-morrer."
"You haven't said outright what you are going to do yourself," replied
Rainey. "As for me, I seem to be between the devil and the deep sea.
Carlsen has got some plan to outwit the men. It's inconceivable that
he'll be willing to give them equal shares. And he has no use for me."
"You ought to have grabbed that gun of his before he did," said Lund.
"He'll put you out of the way if he can, but, now his temper's b'iled
over a bit, he'll not shoot you. Not afore the gold's in the hold. One
thing, he knows the hunters wouldn't stand for it. They've got dust in
their eyes right now--gold-dust, chucked there by Carlsen, but if he'd
butchered you he'd likely lose his grip on 'em. I think he would. I
don't believe yo're in enny danger, Rainey, if you want to buckle in an'
line up with the crowd.
"As for me," he went on, his voice deepening, "I'm goin' to tell 'em to
go plumb to hell. I'll tell Carlsen a few things first. Equal shares! A
fine bunch of socialists they are! Settin' aside that Carlsen's bullin'
'em, as you say. Equal? They ain't my equal, none of 'em, man to man.
All men are born free an' equal, says the Constitution an' by-laws of
this country of ours. Granted. But they don't stay that way long.
They're all lined up to toe the mark on the start, but watch 'em
straggle afore they've run a tenth of the distance.
"I found this gold, an' they didn't. I don't have to divvy with 'em,
an' I won't. A lot of I. W. W.'s, that's what they are, an' I'll tell
'em so. More'n that, if enny of 'em thinks he's my equal all he's got to
do is say so, an' I'll give him a chance to prove it. Feel those arms,
matey, size me up. Man to man, I c'ud break enny of 'em in half. Put me
in a room with enny three of 'em, an' the door locked, an' one 'ud come
out. That 'ud be me."
This was not bragging, not blustering, but calm assurance, and Rainey
felt that Lund merely stated what he believed to be facts. And Rainey
believed they were facts. There was a confident strength of spirit aside
from his physical condition that emanated from Lund as steam comes from
a kettle. It was the sort of strength that lies in a steady gale, a wind
that one can lean against, an elastic power with big reserves of force.
But the conditions were all against Lund, though he proceeded to put
them aside.
"Man to man," he repeated, "I c'ud beat 'em into Hamburg steak. An' I've
got brains enough to fool Carlsen. I've outguessed him so far."
"He's got the gun," warned Rainey.
"Never mind his gun. I ain't afraid of his gun." He nodded with such
supreme confidence that Rainey felt himself suddenly relegating the
doctor's possession of the gun to the background. "If his gun's the only
thing trubblin' you, forget it. You an' me got to know where we stand.
It's up to you. I won't blame you for shiftin' over. An' I can git along
without you, if need be. But we've got along together fine; I've took a
notion to you. I'd like to see you get a whack of that gold, an' all the
devils in hell an' out of it ain't goin' to stop me from gittin' it!"
He talked in a low voice, but it rumbled like the distant roar of a
bull. Rainey looked at the indomitable jaw that the beard could not
hide, at the great barrel of his chest, the boughlike arms, the swelling
thighs and calves, and responded to the suggestion that Lund could rise
in Berserker rage and sweep aside all opposition.
It was absurd, of course; his next thought adjusted the balance that had
been weighed down by the compelling quality of the man's vigor but, for
the moment, remembering his earlier simile, Lund appeared a blind Samson
who, by some miracle, could at the last moment destroy his enemies by
pulling down their house--or their ship--about them.
"Carlsen says that the skipper's life is in his hands," he said, still
evading Lund's direct question. "What do you make of that?"
"I don't know what to make of it," answered Lund. "If it is, God help
the skipper! I reckon he's in a bad way. Ennyhow, he's out of it for the
time bein', Rainey. I don't think he'll be present at the meetin' if
he's that ill. Carlsen speaks for him. Count Simms out of it for the
present."
"There's the girl," said Rainey. "I don't believe she wants to marry
Carlsen."
"If she does," said Lund, "she ain't the kind we need worry about.
Carlsen 'ud marry her if he thought it was necessary to git her share by
bein' legal. He may try an' squeeze her to a wedding through the
skipper. Threaten to let her dad die if she don't marry him, likely'll
git the skipper to tie the knot. It 'ud be legal. But if you're
interested about the gal, Rainey, an' I take it you are, I'm tellin' you
that Carlsen'll marry her if it suits his book. If it don't, he won't.
An', if he wins out, he'll take her without botherin' about prayer-books
an' ceremonies. I know his breed. All men are more or less selfish an'
shy on morals, in streaks more or less wide, but that Carlsen's just
plain skunk."
"The men wouldn't permit that," said Rainey tersely. "If Carlsen started
anything like that I'd kill him with my own hands, gun or no gun. And
any white man would help me do it."
"You would, mebbe," said Lund, nodding sagely. "You'd have a try at it.
But you don't know men, matey, not like I do. This ship's got a skipper
now. A sick one, I grant you. But so far he's boss. An' he's the gal's
father. All's usual an' reg'lar. But you turn this schooner into a
free-an'-easy, equal shares-to-all, go-as-you-please outfit, let 'em git
their claws on the gold, an' be on the way home to spend it--for
Carlsen'll let 'em go that far afore he pulls his play, whatever it
is--an' discipline will go by the board.
"Grog'll be served when they feel like it, they'll start gamblin', some
of 'em'll lose all they got. There'll be sore-heads, an' they'll
remember there's a gal in the after-cabin, which won't be the
after-cabin enny more, for they'll all have the run of it, bein' equal;
then all hell's goin' to break loose, far's that gal's concerned.
"A bunch of men who've bin at sea for weeks, half drunk, crazy over
havin' more gold than they ever dreamed of, or havin' gambled it away.
Jest a bunch of beasts, matey, whenever they think of that gal. They'll
be too much for Carlsen to handle--an'"--he tapped at Rainey's
knee--"Carlsen don't think enough of enny woman to let her interfere
with his best interests."
Rainey's jaw was set and his fists clenched, his blood running hot and
fast. His imagination was instinct to conjure up full-colored scenes
from Lund's suggestions.
"You mean--" he began.
"Under his hide, when there ain't nothin' to hinder him, a man's plain
animal," said Lund. "What do these water-front bullies know about a good
gal--or care? They only know one sort. Ever think what happened to a
woman in privateer days when they got one aboard, alone, on the high
seas? Why, if they pushed Carlsen, he'd turn her over to 'em without
winkin'."
"You hinted I was different," said Rainey. "How about you, Lund, how
would you act?"
"If Carlsen wins out, I'd be chewin' mussels on a rock, or feedin'
crabs," said Lund simply. "I'm no saint, but, so long as I can keep
wigglin', there ain't enny hunter or seaman goin' to harm a decent gal.
That's another way they ain't my equal, Rainey. Savvy? Nor is Carlsen.
There ain't enough real manhood in that Carlsen to grease a skillet. How
about it, Rainey; are you lined up with me?"
"Just as far as I can go, Lund. I'm with you to the limit."
Lund brought down his hand with a mighty swing, and caught at Rainey's
in mid-air, gripping it till Rainey bit his lips to repress a cry of
pain.
"You've got the guts!" cried the giant, checking the loudness of his
voice abruptly. "I knew it. It ain't all goin' to go as they like it.
Watch my smoke. Now, then, keep out of Carlsen's way all you can. He may
try an' pick a row with you that'll put you in wrong all around. Go easy
an' speak easy till land's sighted. If you ain't invited to this
I. W. W. convention, horn in.
"Carlsen'll try an' keep you on deck, I fancy. Don't stay there. Turn
the wheel over to Sandy if you have to. I'll insist on havin' you
there. That'll be better. They'll probably have some fool agreement to
sign. Carlsen would do that. Make 'em all feel it's more like a bizness
meetin'. They'll love to scrawl their names an' put down their marks.
I'll have to have you there to read it over to me; savvy?"
"What do you think Carlsen's game is, if it goes through?"
"He's fox enough to think up a dozen ways. Run the schooner ashore
somewhere in the night. Wreck her. Git 'em in the boats with the gold.
Inside of a week, Deming an' one or two others would have won it all.
Then--he'd have the only gun--he'd shoot the lot of 'em an' say they
died at sea. He ain't got enny more warm blood than a squid. Or he might
land, and accuse 'em all of piracy. What do we care about his plans? He
ain't goin' to put 'em over."
Rainey had to relieve Hansen. He left Lund primed for resistance against
Carlsen, against all the crew, if necessary, resolved to save the girl,
but, as Lund stayed below and the time slid by, his confidence oozed out
of him, and the odds assumed their mathematical proportion.
What could they do against so many? But he held firm in his
determination to do what he could, to go down with the forlorn hope,
fighting. Blind as he was, Lund was the better man of the two of them,
Rainey felt; it was better to attempt to seize the horns of the dilemma
than weakly to give way and, with Lund killed, or marooned, try
single-handed to protect Peggy Simms against the horrors that would come
later.
He did not believe himself in love with her. The environment had not
been conducive to that sort of thing. But the thought of her, their
hands clasped, her eyes appealing, saying she needed a friend aboard the
_Karluk_; the young clean beauty of her, nerved him to stand with Lund
against the odds. Lund was fighting for his rights, for his gold, but he
had said that he would not see a decent girl harmed as long as he could
wiggle. Rough sea-bully as the giant was, he had his code. Rainey
tingled with contempt of his own hesitancy.
The _Karluk_ was bowling along northward toward landfall and the crisis
between Lund and Carlsen at good speed. The weather had subsided and the
half gale now served the schooner instead of hindering her. Rainey
turned over the wheel to a seaman and paced the deck. The bite in the
air had increased until even the smart walk he maintained failed to
circulate the blood sufficiently to keep his fingers from becoming
benumbed, so that he had to beat his arms across his chest.
It was well below the freezing point. If they had been sailing on fresh
water, instead of salt, he fancied that the rigging would have been
glazed where the spray struck it. As it was, the canvas seemed to him
stiffer than usual, and there was a whitish haze about the northern
horizon that suggested ice.
The tall, olive-tinted seas ranged up in dissolving hills, the wind's
whistle was shrill in the rigging. Over the mainmast a gray-breasted
bird with wide, unmoving pinions hung without apparent motion, its ruby
eyes watching the ship, as if it was a spy sent out from the Arctic to
report the adventurous strangers about to dare its dangers.
As the day passed to sunset the gloom quickly deepened. The sun sank
early into banks of leaden clouds, and the _Karluk_ slid on through the
seething seas in a scene of strange loneliness, save for the suspended
albatross that never varied its position by an inch or by a flirt of its
plumes.
Rainey felt the dreary suggestion of it all as he walked up and down,
trying to evolve some plan. Lund's mysterious hints were unsatisfactory.
He could not believe them without some basis, but the giant would never
go further than vague talk of a "joker" or a card up his sleeve. And
they would need more than one card, Rainey thought.
He wondered whether they could win over Hansen, who had spoken for Lund
against the skipper. And had then kept his counsel. But he dismissed
Hansen as an ally. The Scandinavian was too cautious, too apt to
consider such things as odds. Sandy was useless, aside from his
good-will. He was cowed by Deming, scared of Carlsen, too puny to do
more than he had done, given them warning.
Tamada? Would he fight for the share of gold he expected to come to him?
Lund had described him as neutral. But, if he knew that he was to be
left out of the division? It was not likely that he would be called to
the conference. The Japanese undoubtedly knew the racial prejudice
against him, a prejudice that Rainey considered short-sighted, taking
some pains to show that he did not share it. At any rate, Tamada might
provide him with a weapon, a sharp-bladed vegetable knife if nothing
better.
But, if it came to downright combat, they must be overwhelmed. Carlsen's
gun again assumed proper proportions. Lund might not be afraid of it,
but Rainey was, very frankly. He should have snatched it from the cabin
cushions. But Tamada? He could not dismiss Tamada as an important
factor. There was no question to Rainey but that Tamada was, by caste,
above his position as sealer's cook. It was true that a Japanese
considered no means menial if they led to the proper end.
Was that end merely to gain possession of his share of the gold, or did
Tamada have some deeper, more complicated reason for signing on to run
the galley of the _Karluk_? Somehow Rainey thought there was such a
reason. He treated Tamada with a courtesy that he had found other
Japanese appreciated, and fancied that Tamada gradually came to regard
him with a certain amount of good-will. But it was hard to determine
anything that went on back of those unfathomable eyes, or to read
Tamada's face, smooth and placid as that of an ivory image.