THE POT SIMMERS
Rainey was awakened at half past seven by the swift rush of men on deck
and a confused shouting. The sun was shining brightly through his
porthole and then it became suddenly obscured. He looked out and saw a
turreted mass of ice not half a cable's length away from the schooner,
water cascading all over its hills and valleys, that were distinct
enough, but so smoothed that the truth flashed over him. Here was a berg
that had suddenly turned turtle and exposed its greater, under-water
bulk to the air.
About it the sea was dark and vivid blue, and the berg sparkled in the
sun with prismatic reflections that gave all the hues of the rainbow to
its prominences, while the bulk glowed like a fire opal. Between it and
the schooner the sea ran in a lasher of diminishing turmoil. Hansen had
carelessly sailed too close. The momentum of the _Karluk_ and its slight
wave disturbance must have sufficed to upset the equilibrium of the
berg, floating with only a third of its bulk above the water. And the
displacement had narrowly missed the schooner's side.
He got a cup of coffee after dressing warmly, and went up. Carlsen and
the girl had preceded him and were gazing at the iceberg. The doctor
seemed to be in the same rare vein of humor as overnight. Lund stood at
the rail with his beak of a nose wrinkled, snuffing toward the icy crags
that were spouting a dazzle of white flame, set about with smaller,
sudden flares of ruby, emerald and sapphire.
"Close shave, that, Rainey," called Carlsen. "She turned turtle on us."
"Too close to be pleasant," said Rainey, and went to the wheel. The girl
had given him a smile, but he marked her face as weary from
sleeplessness and strain. Rainey left the spokes in charge of Hansen for
a minute--Hansen stolid and chewing like an automaton, undisturbed by
the incident now it had passed--and asked the girl how her father was.
"I am afraid--" she began, then glanced at Carlsen.
"He is not at all well," said the doctor, facing Rainey, his face away
from the girl. As he spoke he left his mouth open for a moment, his
tongue showing between his white teeth, in a grin that was as mocking as
that of a wolf, mirthless, ruthless, triumphant. And for a fleeting
second his eyes matched it.
Rainey restrained a sudden desire to smash his fist into that sardonic
mask. This was the day of Carlsen's anticipated victory, the first of
his calculated moves toward check-mate, and he was palpably enjoying it.
"Not--at--all--well," repeated Carlsen slowly. "He needs something to
bring him out of himself, as he now is. A little excitement. Yet he
should not be crossed in any way. We shall see."
He shifted his position and looked at the girl much as a wolf, not
particularly hungry, might look at a tethered lamb. His tongue just
touched the inner edges of his lips. It was as if the wolf had licked
his chops.
"Carlsen would be a bad loser," Lund had once said, "and a nasty winner.
He'd want to rub it in as soon as he knew he had you beat."
Rainey gripped the spokes hard until he felt the pressure of his bones
against the wood. Carlsen's attitude had had one good effect. His
nervousness had disappeared, and a cold rage taken its place. He could
cheerfully have attempted to throttle Carlsen without fear of his gun.
For that matter, he had faced the pistol once and come off best. What a
fool he had been, though, to let Carlsen regain his automatic! Now he
was anxious for the landfall, keen for the show-down.
Far on the horizon, northward, he sighted glimmering flashes of milky
whiteness that came and went to the swing of the schooner. This could
not be land, he decided, or they would have announced it. It was ice,
pack-ice, or floes. He tried to recollect all that he had heard or read
of Arctic voyages, and succeeded only in comprehending his own
ignorance. Of the rapidly changing conditions the commonest sailor
aboard knew more than he. Blind Lund, sniffing to windward, smelled and
heard far more than he could rightfully imagine.
Tamada appeared and announced breakfast.
"You'll be coming later, Rainey?" asked Carlsen. "You and Lund?"
He started for the companionway and the girl followed. As she passed the
wheel Rainey spoke to her:
"I am sorry your father is worse, Miss Simms," he said.
She looked at him with eyes that were filled with sadness, that seemed
liquid with tears bravely held back.
"I am afraid he is dying," she answered in a low voice. "Thank you, for
you sympathy. I--"
She stopped at some slight sound that Rainey did not catch. But he saw
the face of Carlsen framed in the shadow of the companion, his mouth
open in the wolf grin, and the man's eyes were gleaming crimson. He held
up a hand for the girl. She passed down without taking it.
Lund came over to Rainey.
"Clear weather, they tell me?" he said. "That's unusual. Fog off the
Aleutians three hundred an' fifty days of the year, as a rule. Soon as
we sight land, which'll be Unalaska or thereabouts, he'll have the
course changed. There's a considerable fleet of United States revenue
cutters at Unalaska, an' Carlsen won't pull ennything until we're well
west of there. He's pretty cocky this mornin'. Wal, we'll see."
There had always been a certain rollicking good-humor about Lund. This
morning he was grim, his face, with its beak of a nose and aggressive
chin beneath the flaming whiskers, and his whole magnificent body gave
the impression of resolve and repressed action. Rainey fancied
whimsically that he could hear a dynamo purring inside of the giant's
massiveness. He had seen him in open rage when he had first denounced
Honest Simms, but the serious mood was far more impressive.
The big man stepped like a great cat, his head was thrust slightly
forward, his great hands were half open. One forgot his blindness.
Despite the unsightly black lenses, Lund appeared so absolutely prepared
and, in a different way, fully as confident as Carlsen. A certain
audacious assurance seemed to ooze out of him, to permeate his
neighborhood, and a measure of it extended to Rainey.
"We'll sight Makushin first," muttered Lund, as if to himself.
"Makushin?"
"Volcano, fifty-seven hundred feet high. Much ice in sight?"
Rainey described the horizon.
"All fresh-water ice," said Lund. "An' melting."
"Melting? It must be way below freezing," said Rainey. Lund chuckled.
"This ain't cold, matey. Wait till we git _north_. Never saw it lower
than five above in Unalaska in my life. It's the rainiest spot in the
U. S. A. Rains two days out of three, reg'lar. This ice is comin' out of
the strait. Sure sign it's breakin' up. The winter freeze ain't due for
six weeks yet."
Carlsen, before he went below, had sent a man into the fore-spreaders,
and now he shouted, cupping his hands and sounding his news as if it had
been a call to arms.
"_Land-ho!_"
"What is it?" called Rainey back.
"High peak, sir. Dead ahead! Clouds on it, or smoke."
He came sliding down the halyards to the deck as Lund said: "That'll be
Makushin. Now the fun'll commence."
From below the sailors off watch came up on deck, and the hunters, the
latter wiping their mouths, fresh from their interrupted breakfast, all
crowding forward to get a glimpse of the land. Rainey kept on the
course, heading for the far-off volcano. Minutes passed before Carlsen
came on deck. He had not hurried his meal.
"I'll take her over, Rainey," he said briefly.
Rainey and Lund were barely seated before the heeling of the schooner
and the scuffle of feet told of Lund's prophesied change of course.
Rainey looked at the telltale compass above his head.
"Heading due west," he told Lund.
"West it is," said the giant. "More coffee, Tamada. Fill your belly,
Rainey. Get a good meal while the eatin' is good."
Although it was Hansen's watch below, Rainey found him at the wheel
instead of the seaman he had left there. Carlsen came up to him smiling.
"Better let Hansen have the deck, Mr. Rainey," he said. "We're going to
have a conference in the cabin at four bells, and I'd like you to be
present."
"All right, sir," Rainey answered, getting a thrill at this first actual
intimation of the meeting. Hansen, it seemed, was not to be one of the
representatives of the seamen. And Carlsen had been smart enough to
forestall Lund's demand for Rainey by taking some of the wind out of the
giant's sails and doing the unexpected. Unless the hunters had suggested
that Rainey be present. But that was hardly likely, considering that he
was to be left out of the deal.
"In just what capacity are you callin' this conference?" Lund asked,
when Carlsen notified him in turn. "The skipper ain't dead is he?"
"I represent the captain, Lund," replied the doctor. "He entirely
approves of what I am about to suggest to you and the men. In fact I
have his signature to a document that I hope you will sign also. It will
be greatly to your interest to do so. I am in present charge of the
_Karluk_."
"You ain't a reg'lar member of this expedition," objected Lund stolidly.
"Neither am I a member of the crew, just now. But the skipper's my
partner in this deal, signed, sealed and recorded. Afore I go to enny
meetin' I'd like to have a talk with him personally. Thet's fair enough,
ain't it?"
Several of the hunters had gathered about, and Lund's question seemed a
general appeal. Carlsen shrugged his shoulders.
"If you had your eyesight," he said almost brutally, "you could soon see
that the skipper was in no condition to discuss matters, much less be
present."
"Here's my eyesight," countered Lund. "Mr. Rainey here. Let him see the
skipper and ask him a question or two."
"What kind of question? I'm asking as his doctor, Lund."
"For one thing if he's read the paper you say he signed. I want to be
sure of that. An' I don't make it enny of yore bizness, Carlsen, what I
want to say to my partner, by proxy or otherwise. Second thing, I'd like
to be sure he's still alive. As for yore standin' as his doctor, all
I've got to say is that yo're a damned pore doctor, so fur as the
skipper's concerned, ennyway."
The two men stood facing each other, Carlsen looking evilly at the
giant, whose black glasses warded off his glance. It was wasting looks
to glare at a blind man. Equally to sneer. But the bout between the two
was timed now, and both were casting aside any veneer of diplomacy,
their enmity manifesting itself in the raw. The issue was growing tense.
Rainey fancied that Carlsen was not entirely sure of his following, and
relied upon Lund's indignant refusal of terms to back up his plans of
getting rid of him decisively.