THE LANDING.
The ice among the inlets on the American side of the North Pacific
broke up unusually early when spring came round again, and several
weeks before Wyllard had expected it the _Selache_ floated clear. Her
crew had suffered little during the bitter winter, for Dampier had kept
them busy splicing gear and patching sails, and they had fitted her
with a new mainmast hewn out of a small cedar. None of them had been
trained as carpenters, but men who keep the sea for months in small
vessels are necessarily handy at repairs, and they had all used axe and
saw to some purpose in their time. In any case, Wyllard was satisfied
when they thrashed the _Selache_ out of the inlet under whole mainsail
in a fresh breeze, and when evening came he sat smoking near the wheel
in a contemplative mood as the climbing forests and snow-clad heights
dropped back astern.
He wondered what his friends were doing upon the prairie, and whether
Agatha had married Gregory yet. It seemed to him that this was, at
least, possible, for she was one to keep a promise, and it was
difficult to believe that Gregory would fail to press his claim. His
face grew grim as he thought of it, though this was a thing he had done
more or less constantly during the winter. He fancied that he might
have ousted Gregory if he had remained at the Range, for Agatha had,
perhaps unconsciously, shown him that she was, at least, not quite
indifferent to him, but that would have been to involve her in a breach
of faith which she would probably have always looked back on with
regret, and in any case he could not have stayed. He knew he would
never forget her, but it was, he admitted, not impossible that she
might forget him. He also realised, though this was not by comparison
a matter of great consequence, that the Range was scarcely likely to
prosper under Gregory's management, but that could not be helped, and
after all he owed Gregory something. It never occurred to him that he
was doing an extravagant thing in setting out upon the search he had
undertaken. He only felt that the obligation was laid upon him, and,
being what he was, he could not shrink from it.
A puff of spray that blew into his face disturbed his meditations, and
when by and bye a little tumbling sea splashed in over the weather bow,
he rose and helped the others to haul a reef in the mainsail down.
That accomplished, he went below and lugged out a well-worn chart,
while the _Selache_ drove away to the westwards over a white-flecked
sea. This time she carried fresh southerly breezes with her most of
the way across the Pacific, and plunged along hove down under the last
rag they dare set upon her with the big combers surging up abeam, until
at length they ran into the clammy fog close in with the Kamtchatkan
beaches. Then the wind dropped, and they were baffled by light and
fitful airs, while it became evident that there was ice about.
The day they saw the first big mass of it gleaming broad across their
course on a raw green sea, Dampier got an observation, and they held a
brief council in the little cabin that evening. The schooner was hove
to then, and lay rolling with banging blocks and thrashing canvas on a
sluggish heave of sea.
"Thirty miles off shore," said Dampier. "If it had been clear enough
we'd have seen the top of the big range quite a way further out to sea.
Now, it's drift ice ahead of us, but it's quite likely there's a solid
block along the beach. Winter holds on a long while in this country.
I guess you're for pushing on as fast as you can?"
Wyllard nodded. "Of course," he said, "you'll look for an opening, and
work her in as far as possible. Then, if it's necessary, Charly and I
and another man will take the sled and head for the beach across the
ice. If there's a lane anywhere I would, however, probably take the
smallest boat. We might haul her a league or two, anyway, on the sled
if the ice wasn't very rough."
He looked at Charly, who made a little sign.
"Well," he said simply, "I guess I'll have to see you through. Now
we've made a sled for her I'd take the boat, anyway. We're quite
likely to strike a big streak of water when the ice is breaking up."
"There's one other course," said Dampier; "the sensible one, and that's
to wait until it has gone altogether. Seems to me I ought to mention
it, though it's not likely to appeal to you."
Wyllard laughed. "From all appearances we might wait a month. I don't
want to stay up here any longer than is strictly necessary."
"You'll head north?"
"That's my intention."
"Then," said Dampier, pointing to the chart before them, "as you should
make the beach in the next day or two I'll head for the inlet here. As
it's not very far you won't have to pack so many provisions along, and
I'll give you, say, three weeks to turn up in. If you don't, I'll
figure that there's something wrong, and do what seems advisable."
They agreed to that, and when next morning a little breeze came out of
the creeping haze, they sailed her slowly shorewards among the drifting
ice until, at nightfall, an apparently impenetrable barrier stretched
gleaming faintly ahead of them. Wyllard retired soon afterwards, and
slept soundly. All his preparations had been made during the winter,
and when at length morning broke he breakfasted before he went out on
deck. The boat was already packed with provisions, sleeping-bags, a
tent, and two light sled frames, on one of which it seemed possible
that they might haul her a few miles. She was very light and small,
and had been built for such a purpose as they had in view.
In the meanwhile the schooner lay to with backed forestaysail, tumbling
wildly on a dim, grey sea. Half a mile away the ice ran back into a
dingy haze, and there was a low, grey sky to weather. Now and then a
fine sprinkle of snow slid across the water before a nipping breeze.
As Wyllard glanced to windward Dampier strode up to him.
"I guess you'd better put it off," he said. "I don't like the weather;
we'll have wind before long."
Wyllard only smiled, and Dampier made a little gesture.
"Then," he said, "I'd get on to the ice just as soon as you can.
You're still quite a way off the beach."
Wyllard shook hands with him. "We should make the inlet in about nine
days, and if I don't turn up in three weeks you'll know there's
something wrong. If there's no sign of me in another week you can take
her home again."
Then Dampier, who said nothing further, bade them swing the boat over,
and when she lay heaving beneath the rail Wyllard and Charly and one
Indian dropped into her. It was only a preliminary search they were
about to engage in, for they had decided that if they found nothing
they would afterwards push further north or inland when they had
supplied themselves with fresh stores from the schooner.
They gazed at her with somewhat grim faces as they pulled away, and
Wyllard, who loosed his oar a moment to wave his fur cap when Dampier
stood upon her rail, was glad when a fresher rush of the bitter breeze
forced him to fix his attention on his task. The boat was heavily
loaded, and the tops of the grey seas splashed unpleasantly close about
her gunwale. She was running before them, rising sharply, and dropping
down out of sight of all but the schooner's canvas into the hollows,
and though this made rowing easier he was apprehensive of difficulties
when he reached the ice.
His misgivings proved warranted as they closed with it, for it
presented an almost unbroken wall against the face of which the sea
spouted and fell in frothy wisps. There was no doubt as to what would
happen if the frail craft was hurled upon that frozen mass, and
Wyllard, who was sculling, fancied that before she could even reach it
there was a probability of her being swamped in the upheaval where the
backwash met the oncoming sea. Charly looked at him dubiously.
"It's a sure thing we can't get out there," he said.
Wyllard nodded. "Then," he said, "we'll pull along the edge of it
until we find an opening or something to make a lee. The sea's higher
than it seemed to be from the schooner."
"We've got to do it soon," said Charly. "There's more wind not far
away."
Wyllard dipped his oar again, and they pulled along the edge of the ice
for an hour cautiously, for there were now little frothing white tops
on the seas.
It was evident that the wind was freshening, and at times a deluge of
icy water slopped in over the gunwale. The men were further hampered
by their furs, and the stores among their feet, and the perspiration
dripped from Wyllard when they approached a ragged, jutting point. It
did not seem advisable to attempt a landing on that side of it, and
when a little snow commenced to fall he looked at his companions.
"I guess we've got to pull her out," said Charly. "Dampier's heaving a
reef down; he sees what's working up to windward."
Wyllard could just make out the schooner, which had apparently followed
them, a blurr of dusky canvas against a bank of haze, and then, as the
boat slid down into a hollow, there was nothing but the low-hung,
lowering sky. It was evident to him that if they were to make a
landing it must be done promptly.
"We'll pull round the point first, anyway," he said.
A shower of fine snow that blotted out the schooner broke upon them as
they did it, and the work was arduous. They were pulling to windward
now, and it was necessary to watch the seas that ranged up ahead and
handle her circumspectly while the freshening breeze blew the spray all
over them. They had to fight for every fathom, and once or twice she
nearly rolled over with them, while the icy water grew steadily deeper
inside her. Then it became apparent by degrees that, as they could not
have reached the schooner had they attempted it, they were pulling for
their lives, and that the one way of escape open to them was to find an
opening of some kind round the point. Its ragged tongue was horribly
close to lee of them lapped in a foaming wash when the snow cleared for
a minute or two, and they saw that Dampier had driven the _Selache_
further off the ice. She was hove to now, and there was a black figure
high up in her shrouds.
Just then, however, a bitter rush of wind hurled the spray about them,
and the boat fell off almost beam on to the sea, in spite of all that
they could do. The icy brine washed into her, and it seemed almost
certain that she would swamp or roll over before they could get way on
her. Still, pulling desperately, they drove her round the point.
Then, as gasping and dripping they made their last effort, a sea rolled
up ahead, and Wyllard had a momentary glimpse of an opening not far
away as she swung up with it. He shouted to his companions, but could
not tell whether they heard and understood him, for after that he was
only conscious of sculling savagely until another sea broke into her
and she struck. There was a crash, and she swung clear with the
backwash, with all one side smashed in. Then she swung in again just
beyond a tongue of ice over which the froth was pouring tumultuously,
and the Indian jumped from the bow. He had the painter with him, and
for half a minute he held her somehow, standing in the foam, while they
hurled a few of the carefully made-up packages in her as far on to the
ice as possible. Then, as Wyllard, who seized one sled frame, jumped,
she rolled over. He landed on his hands and knees, but in another
moment he was on his feet, and he and the Indian clutched at Charly,
who drove towards them amidst a long wash of foam.
They dragged him clear, and as he stood up dripping without his cap a
sudden haze of snow whirled about them. There was no sign of the
schooner, and they could scarcely see the broken ice some sixty yards
away. They had made the landing, wet through, with about half their
stores, and it was evident that their boat would not carry them across
the narrowest lane of water, even if they could have recovered her,
which it scarcely seemed worth while to attempt. The sea rumbled along
the edge of the ice, and they could not tell if the latter extended as
far as the beach. They looked at one another until Wyllard spoke.
"We have got the hand-sled, and some, at least, of the things," he
said. "The sooner we start for the beach the sooner we'll get there."
It was a relief to load the sled, and when that was done they set off
in the hide traces across the ice with the snow whirling about them.
It was arduous work apart from the hauling of the load, for the ice was
rough and broken, and covered for the most part with softening snow.
They had only gum-boots with soft hide moccasins under them, for
snow-shoes are only used in Eastern Canada, and it takes one a long
while to learn to walk on them. Sometimes they sank almost knee-deep,
sometimes they slipped and scrambled on uncovered ledges, but they
pushed on with the sled bouncing and sliding unevenly behind them until
the afternoon had almost gone.
Then they set up the saturated tent behind a hummock, and crouched
inside it upon a ground sheet while Charly boiled a kettle on the
little oil blast stove, and the wind that screamed about it hurled the
snow upon the straining canvas. It, however, stood the buffeting, and
when they had eaten a very simple meal Charly put the stove out and the
darkness was only broken down when one of them struck a match to light
his pipe. They had only a strip of rubber sheeting between them and
the snow, for the water had got into the sleeping bags, and their
clothes dried upon them with the heat of their bodies. They said
nothing for awhile, and Wyllard was half-asleep when Charly spoke.
"I've been thinking about that boat," he said. "Though I don't know
that we could have done it, we ought to have tried to pull her out."
"Why?" asked Wyllard. "She'd have been all to pieces, anyway."
"I'm figuring it out like this. If Dampier wasn't up in the shrouds
when we made the landing he'd sent somebody. We could see him up
against the sky, but we'd be much less clear to him low down with the
ice and the surf about us. Besides, it was snowing quite fast then.
Well, I don't know what Dampier saw, but I guess he'd have made out
that we hadn't hauled the boat up, anyway. The trouble is that with
the wind freshening and it getting thick he'd have to thrash the
schooner out and lie to until it cleared. When he runs in again it's
quite likely that he'll find the boat and an oar or two. Seems to me
that's going to worry him considerable."
Wyllard, drowsy as he was getting, agreed with this view of the matter.
He realised that it would have been quite impossible for Dampier to
have sent them any assistance, and it was merely a question whether
they should retrace their steps to the edge of the ice next morning and
make him some signal. Against this there was the strong probability
that he would not run in if the gale and snow continued, and the fact
that it was desirable to make the beach as soon as possible in case the
ice broke up before they reached it. What was rather more to the
purpose, he was quietly determined on pushing on.
"It can't be helped," he said simply. "We'll start for the beach as
soon as it's daylight."
Charly made no answer, and the brawny, dark-skinned Siwash, who spoke
English reasonably well, only grunted. Unless it seemed necessary, he
seldom said anything at all. Bred to the sea, and living on the seal
and salmon, as he had done, an additional hazard or two or an extra
strain on his tough body did not count for much with him. He had been
accustomed to sleep wet through with icy water, and crouch for hours
with numbed hands clenched on the steering-paddle while the long sea
canoe scudded furiously over the big combers before bitter gale or
driving snow. Wyllard, who rolled over, pulled a wet sleeping-bag
across him, and after that there was silence in the little rocking tent.
In the meanwhile, Charly's deductions had been proved correct, for when
the breeze freshened Dampier climbed into the shrouds. He had noticed
the ominous blackness to windward, and knew what it meant, which was
why he had hauled a reef in the schooner's mainsail down, and now kept
her out a little from the ice. As the light faded he found it very
difficult to see the boat against the white wash of the seas that
recoiled from the ice, but when the snow was whirling about him he
decided that she was in some peril unless her crew could pull her round
the point. It was evident that this would be a difficult matter,
though he had only an occasional glimpse of her now. He waved an arm
to the helmsman, who understood that he was to run the schooner in;
there was a rattle of blocks as the booms swung out, and as the
_Selache_ sped away before the rapidly freshening breeze it seemed to
Dampier that he saw the boat hurled upon the ice. Then a blinding haze
of snow shut out everything, and he came down with a run.
He stood for several minutes gazing forward grim in face beside the
wheel, but he could see nothing except the filmy whiteness and the tops
of the seas that had steadily been getting steeper. The schooner was
driving furiously down upon the ice, but it was evident to him that to
send Wyllard any assistance was utterly beyond his power. He could
have hove the schooner to while he got the bigger boat over, and two
men might have pulled her towards the ice with the breeze astern of
them, but it was perfectly clear that they could neither have made a
landing nor have pulled her back again. It was also, though this
appeared of less consequence, uncertain whether he and the other man
could have brought the schooner round or have got more sail off her,
which would, as he recognised, very soon have to be done. Still, he
stood on while the snow grew thicker until they heard the wash of the
sea upon the ice close to lee of them, and then it was a hard-clenched
hand he raised in sign to the helmsman.
"On the wind. Haul lee sheets!" he said.
She came round a little, heading off the ice, and when she drove away
with the foam seething white beneath one depressed rail and the spray
whirling high about her plunging bows, there was a curious tense look
in the white men's faces as they gazed into the thickening white haze
to lee of her.
They thrashed her out until Dampier decided that there was sufficient
water between him and the ice, and then stripped most of the sail off
her, and she lay to until next morning, when they once more got sail on
her and ran in again. The breeze had fallen a little, it was rather
clearer, and they picked up the point, though it had somewhat changed
its shape. Then they got a boat over, and the two men who went off in
her found a few broken planks, a couple of oars, and Charly's cap
washing up and down in the surf. They had very little doubt as to what
that meant.