From the galley and store-rooms he collected a good stock of
provisions and such utensils as he thought he was likely to need.
For the boy had come to a hasty conclusion that he would take up
quarters on Skull Island for the present, at any rate. He knew that
whalers and sealers sometimes touched there, and he might stand a
chance of being rescued if he remained there instead of venturing,
in a flimsy dory, on unknown seas.
But when he had the dory all loaded a difficulty he had not thought
of in his haste presented itself.
How was he to launch it?
This problem bothered him not a little for some time. But at last he
solved it. At each end of the dory was a “becket” or loop of rope.
Raynor unfastened the throat halyards of the mainsail and hooked
them into these loops. Then it was an easy matter to hoist the dory
aloft by the aid of block and tackle. The _Polly Ann_ had heeled so
far over by this time, that once the dory was in the air, it swung
out over the water, to which Raynor quickly lowered it.
Then he dropped over the side and on board his little craft.
“Good-bye, old _Polly Ann_,” he exclaimed, as he took up the oars
and began rowing through the drifting ice for the shore of Skull
Island. “You saved my life, but even so I can’t say I’ve any
particular love for you.”
With this exordium he set to work at his rowing in earnest. It was
hard work but at last he grounded his boat on a strip of sandy
beach.
“Welcome to Skull Island,” he said to himself, “Let’s hope our stay
here will be a short one.”
He dragged the boat up as far as he could on the beach, and then
unloaded his various goods. They made quite a pile.
“I’m a regular Arctic Robinson Crusoe,” he exclaimed, half aloud.
He had hardly made the remark when he started violently. His
resemblance to Robinson Crusoe was even closer than he had thought.
On the close-packed sand of the beach were the footprints of a man!
There was somebody else on the island then. For a minute he half
suspected that one of the landing party, who had come ashore for
water, might have made the tracks. But this solution of the matter
was negatived by the fact that they had landed on the other side of
the island, and had been too busy to roam about.
Who could this man be? Captain Carson had told him the island was
uninhabited. Certainly nobody with the landing party had noticed any
human being on it or they would have been sure to have mentioned it.
Raynor began to feel uncomfortable. He had no weapon, and the
strange man might be hostile. Certainly he must be an out of the
ordinary individual to live on such a forsaken island. And why had
he not appeared when the schooner anchored?
“Maybe he is some desperate criminal hiding here from the law,”
mused Raynor. “In that case my life will be in danger.”
He traced the footsteps till they became lost in loose sand. But as
nearly as he could judge, the man had walked along the beach, and
then turned inland.
Raynor felt badly shaken by his discovery. It was not pleasant to
contemplate sharing an island with a man who might prove a dangerous
enemy. However, there was no help for it, The _Polly Ann_ was
sinking and the island was his only refuge.
He looked about him. Back of the beach the island shores sloped
upward abruptly, shutting out any view of the interior. Gnarled
shrubs and bushes grew among the rocks. They were twisted into all
sorts of grotesque shapes by the rigors of the Arctic winds. From
the beach he could see the hull of the ill-fated _Polly Ann_.
The schooner had canted over more but did not appear to have sunk
any lower in the water. “If only she’d keep afloat I’d go right back
to her,” muttered Raynor.
He fell to examining the footmarks again. They were very large and
made with heavy, clumsy boots to judge by their appearance.
“The man who made these tracks must be a big fellow, more than a
match for me in physical strength,” reflected Raynor.
He decided not to penetrate into the interior of the island but to
set up a camp where he had landed, at all events, for the present.
He had a half formed plan in his mind, too, of rowing out to the
_Polly Ann_ and getting more provisions before she finally sank. He
had brought some canvas along to make a tent and he constructed
quite a snug shelter by turning the boat upside down and supporting
it on stones. This made a water-tight roof over which he threw the
canvas. Next he collected wood and built a fire. It was not till
that moment that he recollected that he would have to go to the
other side of the island for water.
He did not much like the task. He might encounter the man of the
island and be attacked by him. Still he thought an encounter was
bound to occur before long, if he remained. So, cutting a stout club
from the bushes, and taking up a bucket he had brought, he set out
for the spring.
By this time it was growing dusk, so much longer than he realized
had his preparations taken him. He started off, walking briskly, and
had almost reached the part of the island where he knew the spring
was located, when he gave a violent start.
Ahead of him, standing on a rock as if gazing at something, was the
figure of a man!