THE LONELY ISLAND
The little _Bunting_, brigantine-rigged, and, yacht-fashion,
possessing an auxiliary screw, plowed the waters of Behring Sea.
Jim, with Clem and Anton beside him, stood on the foc's'le head,
gazing into the foggy distance. Owens was on the poop, with the owner
of the tiny yacht, who was a personal friend, and moodily scanned the
horizon. Otto, utterly disregarding the universal sea injunction:
"Don't Talk to the Man at the Wheel!" stayed at the stern and
exchanged occasional sentences with the helmsman.
There were, also, two other passengers on board, both down in the
cabin. One was a grizzled giant, the other was a young woman, some 25
years of age. The first was a half-brother of Joe Juneau, and was
known throughout the Far North as "The Arctic Wizard" from his uncanny
knowledge of Alaskan mining deposits, and his ability as a mining
engineer in overcoming the peculiar difficulties of frozen ground and
of maintaining machinery in working order under the most rigorous
conditions of weather. The second was "Bull's little gal," more
properly known as Jameine Evans, herself a graduate of the Pittsburgh
School of Mines.
With the money that had been sent her, when a baby, by the Road-Agent
of Circle, and with the additional sums forwarded from time to time by
Jim, Jameine (so christened as a namesake of the old prospector) had
been able to pay her way through school and college and had taken a
mining course besides.
This specialized education had been her plan of gratitude. Only by
making herself efficient in a kindred field, she felt, could she ever
be a real "pardner" to Jim; only thus could she repay, in some
measure, the generosity of the old prospector. She had long realized
the unselfishness of the man who had stayed winter after winter in the
frozen North, denying himself the rude pleasures of a mining camp in
order to help "Bull's little gal."
Ever since Jim had made his famous strike, as a result of the map
which had been sent to her by her father's murderer, Jameine had
regarded herself as the heiress of a dream mine, but a dream which
might, some day, come true. For her own sake, as well as Jim's, she
had read and studied as much as she could of Alaskan conditions.
It was she who finally disclosed to Jim that the Russian seal-poachers
were probably at fault in chasing him from his strike, and only wanted
to get rid of the inconvenient witness. Thus she had reawakened the
prospector's lagging interest in his find, but lacking the large store
of capital necessary to exploit the mine, she could do nothing. Jim
had used up all his savings in going from town to town trying to
interest a big investor and had finally entered Owens' coal mine in
order to get a little stake again.
Wizard Juneau was amazed at the extent of mining knowledge shown by
this girl shipmate, and he had spent the greater part of the voyage
from Sitka in imparting to her some of the secrets distilled from his
long experience in frozen mining. He had brought on board the
_Bunting_ many of the publications of the U. S. Geological Survey, and
of the Bureau of Mines, annotated by himself. He had brought, also, a
number of crude maps of half-explored territory, either drawn by his
own hand or by old prospectors, which maps and charts were among his
most prized possessions.
"Some of these," he explained, "were made by Alf Brooks,[8] one of the
nerviest explorers that the U. S. ever sent out. I've been with him on
more than one reconnoissance survey. And some were made by experts on
the U. S. Revenue Cutter _Bear_.[9] I sailed on her two seasons."
[Footnote 8: For the Alaskan explorations of Brooks ("Rivers") see the
author's "The Boy with the U. S. Survey."]
[Footnote 9: For the Behring Sea work of the _Bear_, see the author's
"The Boy with the U. S. Lifesavers."]
"And do you think, Mr. Juneau, that this island of Uncle Jim's is on
the American side of the line?"
The "Wizard" pursed his lips with an expression of doubt.
"It's a toss of the dice," he said. "Ingalook, the easternmost of the
Diomede Islands, where Jim found that piece of gold-bearing quartz, is
sure American territory. I don't take kindly to Ingalook, though.
There'd be trouble, there, in trying to install proper mining and
crushing devices. There's no landing place on that isolated granite
dome standing forlornly out of the sea, except for seals, polar bears,
or crazy prospectors like Jim, there.
"But this Chukalook Bank of the Road Agent's map, where the pay gravel
and the lignite coal lie--supposing that it's the same as this little
unnamed dot marked on the charts--seems to be right on the
international boundary line. We'll have to wait until we get there to
make accurate observations."
"Can you do that, too, Mr. Juneau?"
"Me? No! I can take a sight of course, but not accurate enough where
it's a matter of minutes or even seconds of a degree. But Captain
Robertson can. Like many of these amateur yachtsmen, he's a better
navigator than the captain of some Atlantic liners. It's his hobby.
Besides, he's got instruments of precision aboard that an admiral
would envy. What's more, he's a certificated man, and his say-so on a
nautical observation of longitude would be legal in the courts. Mine
wouldn't."
"And suppose the island should prove to be on the Russian side?"
"Then, young lady, you'll have to turn Russian!"
"What nonsense! You know I wouldn't. No, but speaking seriously?"
"Well, seriously, then, you'd have to buy the island from the
Bolsheviks, or from the Eastern Siberian Republic, or from the
Japanese, or whoever happens to be claiming it. International rights
up in the Asiatic Arctic are badly mixed up, these days. And that
wouldn't be the worst of it. You'd have to pay stiff royalties and you
wouldn't be sure of any sort of protection--unless it was the
Japanese."
"We'll buy it, if we have to!" declared Jameine decidedly. "I'm not
going to have anything happen that will spoil Uncle Jim's strike!"
"He's a regular dad to you, Miss Evans, eh?"
"He's the only one I ever remember," the girl replied. "My real father
went up to Skagway, just a few weeks after I was born, only having
stayed down in Montana long enough to see me. And, as you know, Mr.
Juneau, he went over the Chilkoot Pass with Uncle Jim and never came
back any more. Mother died when I was quite small. I know Uncle Jim
feels that 'Bull's little gal' is his own. I feel so, too!"
The grizzled mining engineer patted the hand with which the girl was
holding open the chart.
"Don't ye worry," he said, kindly, "we'll make good. We'll bluff any
one that comes to Chukalook--supposing we find it--long enough to get
the best o' the pay gravel. If that don't do the trick, we'll fight.
"And there's another thing. If Chukalook doesn't pan out, there's the
quartz at Ingalook. I've never seen the gold deposit yet--no matter
how poor--that I couldn't turn into money, so long as I could get
enough capital behind me to exploit it."
"Mr. Owens will give that," asserted Jameine confidently.
The "Wizard" shook a warning finger.
"Not just for sentiment, he won't," he said, "not if I read him right.
He's generous enough, and he'd see that you and Jim didn't suffer. But
he's too keen a business man to invest his money unless he sees a fair
chance of return. We've got to show him!"
"He certainly doesn't seem as enthusiastic about it now, as he did
when we started," Jameine agreed, thoughtfully.
"That's natural enough! Don't ye forget he's an Australian, and all
the gold fields he's ever seen, there, and in South Africa, were in
hot desert country. These waters don't look promising to him!"
The "Wizard" was right. Owens was scanning the slate-gray water
flecked with foam and the sky of dripping fog with equal distrust and
dislike. The pieces of ice-floe bobbing in the choppy current inspired
him with uneasiness, even with fear. The assurances of his friend, the
yachtsman, gave him no confidence.
Had it been possible, he would have been heartily glad to back out of
his agreement, but there was no way he could do it with honor. He had
sought out Jameine in Pittsburgh, had seen Jim's letters, and had
checked up the Express Company's receipts of gold forwarded by the old
prospector from the mining camps of Forty-Mile, of Circle, of Juneau,
of Klondyke, of Dawson City and of Nome. Jameine's hopeful spirit and
her determination to make good on Jim's strike had been infectious.
Owens had set out, almost gaily. But this grim, inhospitable sea put a
damper on his spirits.
"Doesn't the sun ever shine here, Jack?" he asked abruptly.
"Not often," was the yachtsman's cheerful answer. "That's why the fur
seals love it. Why, bless you, on Pribilof Islands, where the seal
rockeries lie, there aren't twenty days of sunshine in a year. I know
these waters. I came hunting sea-otter once. We ran two summer months
without seeing the sun."
"It's no place for me!" declared the mine-owner. "Those who like the
sea can have it, and be welcome!"
The yachtsman bridled. He loved the sea.
"Open your nostrils, man, and sniff; that's pure air, at least. It
isn't like what I smelt last time I visited your dirty old coal mine!"
he retorted. "Every dog to its own kennel, Owens! After all, you
wanted to come here."
Jim felt much the same way. Standing on the foc's'le head, the raw
air, with its sudden hot spells when the sun gleamed dully through the
fog, brought him welcome memories. It seemed homelike, after his brief
experience in a coal mine. As he had said himself, he was a
"sour-dough." The uncanny fascination that the Far North exerts on
those who have once lived there, gripped him hard.
"Ain't no crowd here to worry a man!" he declared, drawing in deep
breaths, "an' there's room enough to stand straight! Would you want
to go back to them coal galleries, Clem, four feet high an' stinkin'?"
"They suited me all right before, Jim," the young fellow answered,
"and I don't see why they shouldn't again. I got mightily interested
in coal. Still, I needed a rest, and this trip is interesting, I'll
allow. But wait till we get to the actual mining of the gold, and then
I'll tell you which I like best."
"An' you, Anton?"
"I never want to go below ground again," the boy answered promptly.
"But it must be awful cold here in winter--if this is summer!"
"Ay, it's cold an' dark, no sun at all for two months. An' a man'll go
hungry often. But it's free an' open an' no one has a boss! What's
more, there's gold!"
Anton shivered. The call of the North had not gripped him, yet.
Otto, beside the helmsman, was worrying him--neither with the weather,
nor with the question of treasure. To the first he was indifferent, to
the second he was satisfied with drawing full pay every day and not
doing any hewing for it. With huge delight, he was absorbing all the
superstitions of the sea, and giving the steersman a gruesome crop of
tales of knockers and gas sprites underground.
There was no special reason why he should have come on the voyage,
except that he had asked to come. Owing to Anton's hatred for coal
mining--born of the entombment--Clem had used his position as Jim's
"pardner" to bring the boy along. Otto, having taken what might be
termed a paternal and prophetic interest in the imprisoned men, wanted
to join the party.
Owens made no objection. He knew laborers would be wanted, and he
preferred men who would not be likely to betray the secret of the
gold. He knew the miner's unswerving loyalty, and was well aware that
loyalty is the one quality which is beyond all price.
Towards the close of the afternoon, the _Bunting_ shortened sail. They
were drawing near.
Somewhere, not far from them, lay the Diomede Islands, those two great
granite crags rising sheer out of the sea with deep water on every
side. The lead would give no sign. There is no fog signal on the
Diomedes. In such a thick and clammy mist as hung over the water, a
ship could wreck herself upon those bleak coasts almost before she
saw the surf under her bows. The wind was light, and the brigantine
slid slowly over the water.
The "Arctic Wizard," his eyes accustomed to the northern skies, was
the first to see a faint purplish blotch in the swirling mist.
"Land! Captain!" he warned, quickly. "Keep away! Keep well away!"
Almost instantly, the booming of breakers was heard.
Well was it for those on board that the _Bunting_ was quick on her
helm! She bore off, just in time, the creaming surf not more than
three cables' length ahead.
"A little too close for my liking!" exclaimed the yachtsman, but
treating the danger lightly. "That's Ingalook, I suppose, Mr. Juneau?"
"Ingalook she is. At least, I think so. I've never been quite so
close, before."
"And I don't want to be, again! Well now, I suppose, the real treasure
hunt begins."
He called Jim.
"How did you say Chukalook Bank bore from here?"
"From Chukalook," Jim answered, "on a clear day, I could see this
island two points east o' south, an' the other island, the Russian
one, three points west o' south."
The yachtsman looked at him thoughtfully.
"And there's no knowing what compass correction to allow for a pocket
compass, and there's the magnetic variation besides. Well, we'll work
it out! And how far away do you reckon the island was?"
"I don't know nothin' about sea distances, Cap'n. She looked just
about the size o' my thumb-nail."
"So! How high was Chukalook Bank above the water?"
"She goes up like a wedge o' cake, Cap'n. Maybe five hundred feet at
the highest point. Where I was workin' wasn't more'n fifty foot above
sea level."
"Well," commented the yachtsman thoughtfully, "allowing for the
curvature of the earth, and for low visibility on these seas that
ought to make Chukalook about thirty or forty miles from here. We'll
put on a little sail and cruise N. N. E. for a few hours."
But the bank was nearer than Jim supposed.
Shortly after dawn, a sailor posted in the cross-trees reported a
flat berg to starboard. The sails were furled, and the _Bunting_ came
up to it slowly under her auxiliary screw.
Jim heard the engines and rushed up on deck.
"That's Chukalook!" he cried, after the first look. "Now, who says I'm
dreamin'? Wait till I tell Bull's little gal!"
He had not long to wait.
The sound of excited voices on deck had awakened the girl, and she
dressed and came up hastily.
"Jameine!" he shouted, as soon as she came up the companion ladder,
"there's our gold!"
The girl ran lightly across the deck and pressed the old prospector's
arm.
"I knew you'd find it, Uncle Jim," she rejoiced, "I said so, all
along!" Then, turning to the mine-owner, who had also come on deck,
she added, "There it is, Mr. Owens!"
The Australian looked. That low flat bank, slowly sloping upwards,
fringed with ice and deep in snow, was none too reassuring.
"You're sure?" he asked suspiciously. "It looks to me a whole lot more
like an iceberg than it does like a gold-field!"
The "Wizard" interrupted, fearing lest Jim should make some rough
rejoinder.
"It looks like an easy landing-place and that's one good thing," he
said, cheerfully. "The Captain, here, has been making soundings and
says there is good holding ground."
"That's all I will say, though," put in the yachtsman. "It's not a
harbor. You're exposed here to every wind that blows!"
"You mean I'd have to build a breakwater?" Owens queried.
"Probably, if you want smooth water for handling cargoes. But I doubt
if you could manage it. The winter ice would chew your breakwater all
to bits. There's five months of open water, anyway, and the summer
months are not so stormy."
"I wouldn't try to build a breakwater!" Owens burst out. "How would I
get men and materials up here?"
The "Wizard" winked at Jim, who was growing restive.
"Wait till we get Owens ashore and start on the gold," he whispered.
"I've seen these backers get cold feet before, when they hit this
northern country for the first time. They're the worst to hold back,
often, after they once get going."
But Jim was thoroughly dissatisfied. There was more than a little
likelihood that the old prospector would make some scornful remark,
for he was in his own land now, and had all a "sour-dough's" contempt
for a "tenderfoot." But Jameine's hand was on his arm and he obeyed
the warning pressure.
The little motor-launch was lowered from the davits, with every member
of the party aboard. None of the sailors was taken, for Jim did not
want to run any risk of strangers taking up claims. The "Wizard" ran
the engine, and the yachtsman took the helm.
One piece of mechanism, small but very heavy, was lowered into the
boat. It sank her low in the water, but it belonged to the "Wizard"
and he was not the kind of man whose acts any one would question.
Picks, shovels, sledge-hammers, wedges, and dynamite were included in
the cargo. Thus heavily loaded, the boat reached the shore, Jim
pointing out the landing-place. It was not so easy to land as the
Wizard had suggested. It was necessary to wade through the sponge-ice,
churned up the shore, Jameine being carried in the huge arms of the,
"Wizard."
The snow on the island was almost knee-deep, but, except Owens, none
of the party minded. Jameine was the gayest of all.
"Lead on to the millions, Uncle Jim!" she cried.
But the old prospector made the girl take his arm.
"We'll git there fust, together!" he declared.
A few minutes tramping brought them to a depression in the snow.
"Here's the old glory-hole (an open pit, not a shaft), an' nobody's
been here!" he announced triumphantly. He grabbed pickaxe and shovel
and slithered in, with the confidence of a man who knew every inch of
the ground.
A few scoops of the shovel cleared away the snow.
Below, though overgrown with dry weeds of many seasons' growing, were
the infallible signs of human handiwork. Even the old sluice was
there, though fallen to pieces.
The others crowded around the glory-hole. The moment of test had come.
"Here, 'Wizard'," said Jim, when he had exposed the workings, "there's
where I was pannin' last. Jump in an' take a look."
The expert, despite his years, leaped in lightly. He took the pick
from Jim's hand, and, with a few vigorous strokes, loosened some of
the gravel. He scrutinized it carefully, first with the naked eye, and
then with a strong pocket lens.
"Well?" asked Jim, impatiently.
"Where are the other prospects?" The "Wizard's" kindly tone had
vanished. He was now a mining expert, at his work. Personalities had
faded. Geological questions, only, had weight.
Silently Jim led him up the slope, Jameine and Clem following.
Despite the veiling snow, the old prospector located hole after hole
with unfailing accuracy, until seven had been found and examined. The
last one was half-way up the cliff.
At each prospect the "Wizard" loosened a small handful of gravel,
examined it carefully and put it in a small buckskin bag, pencilling
each bag in order. His expression changed not at all; he bore the true
Western "poker face."
"What overlies this gravel?" he asked abruptly.
"Slate," said Jim.
"Let's see it!"
They climbed upwards.
On arriving at the stratum which lay above the gravel, dipping down
at a sharp slope, the expert examined carefully the carbonaceous slate
of which it was composed.
"We'll go back, now," he said at last.
But he expressed no opinion.
"What do you think of it, Mr. Juneau?" queried Owens, when the four
climbers returned to the glory-hole. His tone seemed to suggest that
he half hoped for an unfavorable answer.
"I'll tell you presently," was the non-committal answer.
Then he turned to the prospector.
"Show me that lignite outcrop, now!"
"Kick the snow away with your feet!" answered Jim, curtly.
Every one kicked vigorously. Under the snow was a thin layer of soil,
and, below that, not more than two inches beneath the surface, was the
brown-black gleam of a low-grade lignite. Owens broke off a piece from
the outcrop and his expression cleared slightly. Certainly Jim's
statement about the coal was justified, though it was of too low-grade
a quality to be worth exportation; possibly his story about the gold
might prove to be true, also.
Then the "Wizard," still without a word which might be construed
either as hopeful or as discouraging, brought from the boat the heavy
piece of machinery. He fitted it with a handle and bade Otto turn. The
machine proved to be a small but very powerful crushing-mill, so
devised that the hardest quartz could be ground to powder by hand.
Besides which, it contained within itself, some modern devices for
separating out the gold.
Bag after bag of the decisive seven was poured in, ground to dust, and
passed through the separating riffles. Each of these riffles had a
self-cleaning device. The expert weighed the gravel before grinding,
weighed the scrapings of the riffles, and made careful notes on the
results of each batch. All was done in utter silence.
Jim, the true prospector, who had often seen wealth or poverty decided
by the twirl of a pan, stood immovable. If he were worried, he did not
show it. Jameine, on the other hand, was trembling and white.
At last, the "Wizard," note-book in hand, turned to give his decision.
"Judging from a direct crushing and separating process, without the
use of mercury," he said, "this gravel ought to give about
six-dollars'-worth of gold to the ton. With mercury, perhaps two or
three more dollars' worth can be extracted, and another couple of
dollars by cyaniding. The gravel is soft and can be hydraulicked,
during the summer. The gold is coarse and easy to separate. The quartz
pebbles will yield more than enough to be worth crushing, but just how
much is indeterminate.
"That's not rich! By itself, or in the interior, the deposit might not
be worth working. But with lignite right on the ground, to make steam
both for running the machinery and for steam thawing points, and with
a pumping plant using heated sea water for hydraulicking, there ought
to be a net profit of about three dollars a ton."
The news was received in silence, each voyager occupied with his own
viewpoint of the decision.
Clem was the first to speak.
"We've come a long way to get three dollars!" said he, with an attempt
at jocularity.
Anton grinned assent. Like Clem, he knew nothing about gold-mining.
Otto waited, well aware that the final result lay between Owens,
Juneau and Jim.
It was Jameine, with her book-knowledge of mining, who put the vital
question.
"How many tons do you estimate there may be in the deposit, Mr.
Juneau?"
"Impossible to say, exactly, especially when the island is masked
under snow. But the prospects have been carefully chosen. They suggest
about four hundred thousand tons in sight, and probably a good deal
more. The gravel is an early Tertiary deposit, lying between two beds
of carbonaceous slate, the lower of which is lignitic. Judging from
the strike of the beds, the gold-bearing gravel runs down under the
sea."
"Then," said the girl, slowly, "if there are four hundred thousand
tons in sight, which would yield a net profit of three dollars a ton,
you figure on over a million dollars, clear?"
"If modern machinery is put in and the mine is run on a business
basis, I should say at least that. Possibly more!"
There was a burst of excited exclamations from all sides.
Every one turned to Jim, who was looking out across the sea toward
Alaska.
"Bull, old pardner," he said softly, "I reckon I've made good for your
little gal!"