STEALTHY AS SHADOWS
As the morning wore on, Bobby realized that his fear of discovery by
Captain Garrish was unfounded. The man continued to watch the boys
closely, but if he had known of that secret meeting between him and
Fred, the captain would have done more than watch—of that Bobby was
certain.
This certainty once more served to raise Bobby’s spirits and made him
hope that they might succeed in outwitting the grim old skipper after
all.
He watched Fred and saw that the lad was doing his best to live up to
the promise he had given the night before. Several times, beneath the
gibe of a sailor or a sharp command from the captain, Fred’s face turned
the color of a beet and he opened his mouth to speak. But he closed it
again with a sharp click that showed he remembered his promise just in
the nick of time.
Every time this happened, Bobby felt like clapping his hands. It was a
great thing for Fred to do, he knew, and he was more than ever thankful
for that brief talk the night before.
Once, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fred mumble something to
Mouser, sidling up to him cautiously in the course of his work, and he
saw Mouser’s quick glance of surprise and interest.
“Good old Fred,” thought Bobby. “He’s wasting no time in passing on the
good word. Now, if we can only manage in some way to put Billy wise, all
may be well. Just a few meetings of the four of us at that secret
rendezvous, and we ought to be able to think up some plan of action.”
But how to pass the word on to Billy—that was the question. How to do it
when Captain Garrish kept an eye on him, Bobby, almost every minute that
he was on deck?
And when the captain himself was not on deck, there was always his
faithful henchman, Rogers, the second mate, to take over the task of
watching him.
“They seem to pick on me especially,” thought Bobby gloomily, after his
third attempt to speak to Billy had met with no success. In fact, this
last effort had been almost disastrous, for Mr. Rogers, the second mate,
had very nearly caught him in the act.
“I don’t know why they should think I need special watching,” Bobby went
on with his thoughts. “I certainly haven’t given them any trouble yet.
Not yet!” he added, with a sudden gleam in his eye. “But soon!”
It would have to be soon, he reflected, as he gazed out over the great
waste of waters. The ocean had begun to take on a glassy look; here and
there a block of half-formed ice slithered sluggishly past them.
Bobby had read enough about the Frozen North, that great stretch of
forbidding country, to know that, even if they did escape into it, they
might be marooned in its ice-covered wastes indefinitely. It might be
months before they could return to their own country. And meantime their
folks would perhaps mourn them as dead.
Lashed on by the harsh voice of Mr. Rogers, Bobby once more fell to work
at his uncongenial tasks.
On the last watch that afternoon when he had just about given up hope of
getting a word with Billy, Bobby’s chance came suddenly and
unexpectedly.
He found himself close to Billy and a quick glance about the deck showed
him that at that moment neither the captain nor Mr. Rogers was on deck.
He leaned over and whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement and
triumph!
“Twelve o’clock, stern, port,” and Billy flashed him a swift look that
showed that he understood. He would have spoken too, but Bobby raised
his hand in a gesture of warning.
“The captain,” he whispered, and then proceeded to put as much of the
deck between him and Billy as he could before the captain’s grim gaze
fastened on him again.
“Well, it’s done,” thought Bobby. “The four of us will meet to-night for
a council of war, even though it be the last one we’ll ever have.”
They must take a chance of discovery. They had come to a point where
desperate measures were necessary if they were to escape at all. They
could never hope to get anywhere unless they took a chance.
If they could only escape that night! Bobby’s face tingled with the hot
blood that rushed to it at the very thought. That night! But how?
There were the longboats. They might manage—the four of them—to get one
free, lower it into the blackness of the night to the restless ocean.
That they might do. But what then?
They had not the slightest idea where they were. They had no compass,
nothing to guide them. And if they had had such an instrument, they
would not know whether to head north, south, east or west, for they had
no knowledge of the direction in which lay the nearest land.
And there was the problem of provisions and warmth. They must eat and
keep warm. They could not set themselves adrift in an unprovisioned boat
without suitable clothing and expect to live.
They might be picked up by some northern-bound steamer, that is true,
but in this latitude and longitude such ships were rare. They could not
afford to trust to luck.
But all during the endless hours Bobby could not drive the thought of
the longboat from his mind. If they could provision it, find out in some
way the location of the nearest shore. But how—how?
And then suddenly the answer was given him in a way that he could never
have anticipated.
There were two Eskimos among the ship’s crew, and although at first the
boys had studied them with natural curiosity, they had soon become
accustomed to these black-haired, black-eyed, round-faced people of the
North.
They were silent men and seldom joined in the wild songs and capering of
the white men of the crew, but their silence was not morose. They seemed
even friendly in a queer way, and Bobby had thought more than once that
he had surprised in their dull, emotionless stare a look of real
interest and sympathy.
This evening as, worn out by the hours of hard toil he had put in, Bobby
was making his way slowly along the spray-washed deck, he was not
altogether surprised to hear himself addressed by one of the Eskimos.
The man spoke guardedly and it was the tone he used, more than what he
said, that startled Bobby.
“Come with me,” said the guttural voice close to his ear. “I have a
message for you.”
In that minute Bobby did some rapid thinking. What if this man were
leading him into some sort of a trap? Nothing, however, could be much
worse than the present state of affairs. And it was barely possible that
the man was friendly—that he would tell him something to his
advantage—perhaps help him to escape.
He nodded and, turning, followed the man down the steep steps of the
companionway.
To his surprise, he was not led aft to the quarters of the men, but
forward in the general direction of the captain’s quarters.
Was it a trap, after all, then? He still had time to turn, to get out of
it. But where could he go on this ship, he thought, where the captain
could not find him and do what he would with him?
All this time they had been making their way swiftly forward, the Eskimo
moving with surprising swiftness, considering his girth.
Once they heard steps coming toward them, and with a guttural
exclamation the Eskimo motioned Bobby into the shadow of a doorway.
There they both waited till the man went by.
The latter was tall and grizzled and there was a scowl on his face as
though he were engrossed in none-too-pleasant thought. He passed so near
that Bobby, by reaching out his hand, might have touched him. With an
audible intake of breath, Bobby recognized the captain.
So his errand was not with the captain, after all.
More puzzled than ever and beginning to feel a tremendous excitement, he
left his hiding place and once more followed the Eskimo.
They came to a door which the Eskimo opened without knocking, and the
latter motioned Bobby into the room. It was a cabin, and rather a
spacious one at that, possessed of all the necessary furnishings.
But only one article of furniture caught Bobby’s eye, and that was the
bed. On the bed reposed a form that lay so still that Bobby at first
thought it was dead. The next moment he saw that he was mistaken.
The Eskimo, going swiftly over to the bed, muttered something and the
quiet figure moved suddenly, struggling to a sitting posture. The Eskimo
put a hand beneath his shoulders, supporting him.
“Come here,” said the man in the bed to Bobby, and then, and only then,
did Bobby recognize the Eskimo chief, Takyak.
As the lad obeyed the summons he was shocked at the change in the man.
He was gray and emaciated and the hand he held out to Bobby shook.
“What’s the matter? What’s happened?” cried Bobby. “You look sick, Chief
Takyak.”
Takyak nodded simply.
“I am dying,” he said.