Part 50 (1/2)
”Don't get angry! Perhaps I've talked too much. We have to think of your leg.”
”I'm not likely to forget it,” Vane informed him. ”But I dare say you're right in one respect--as an amusing companion you're a dead failure; and talking isn't as easy as I thought.”
He lay silent afterward, and though he had disclaimed any desire for sleep, worn by the march and pain as he was, his eyes presently closed.
Carroll, however, sat long awake that night, and he afterward confessed that he felt badly afraid. Deer are by no means numerous in some parts of the bush--they had not seen one during the journey; and it was a long way to the sloop.
Once or twice, for no obvious reason, he drew aside the tent flap and looked out. The sky was cloudless and darkly blue, and a sickle moon gleamed in it, keen and clear with frost. Below, the hills were washed in silver, majestic, but utterly cheerless; and lower still the serrated tops of the rigid firs cut against the dreary whiteness. After each glimpse of them, Carroll drew his blanket tighter round him with a s.h.i.+ver. Very shortly, when the little flour and pork was gone and their few cartridges had been expended, he would be reduced to the condition of primitive man. Cut off from all other resources, he must then wrest what means of subsistence he could from the snowy wilderness by brute strength and cunning and such instruments as he could make with his una.s.sisted hands, except that an ax of Pennsylvania steel was better than a stone one. Civilization has its compensations, and Carroll longed for a few more of them that night.
On rising the next morning, he found the frost keener, and he spent that day and a number of those that followed in growing anxiety, which was only temporarily lessened when he once succeeded in killing a deer. There was almost a dearth of animal life in the lonely valley. Sometimes, at first, Vane was feverish; often he was irritable; and the recollection of the three or four weeks he spent with him afterward haunted Carroll like a nightmare. At last, when he had spent several days in vain search for a deer and the provisions were almost exhausted, he and his companion held a council of emergency.
”There's no use in arguing,” Vane declared. ”You'll rig me a shelter of green boughs outside the tent and close to the fire. I can move from the waist upward and, if it's necessary, drag myself with my hands. Then you can chop enough cord-wood to last a while, cook my share of the eatables, and leave me while you go down to the sloop. There's half a bag of flour on board her, and a few other things I'd be uncommonly glad to have.”
Carroll expostulated; but it was evident that his companion was right, and the next morning he started for the inlet, taking with him the smallest possible portion of their provisions. So long as he had enough to keep him from fainting on the way, it was all he required, because he could renew his stores on board the sloop. The weather broke during the march; driving snow followed him down the valley, and by and by gave place to bitter rain. The withered underbrush was saturated, the soil was soddened with melting snow, and after the first scanty meal or two the man dare risk no delay. He felt himself flagging from insufficient food, and it was obvious that he must reach the sloop before he broke down. He had tobacco, but that failed to stay the gnawing pangs, and before the march was done he was on the verge of exhaustion, forcing himself onward, drenched and grim of face, scarcely able to keep upon his bleeding feet.
It was falling dusk and blowing fresh when he limped down the beach and with a last effort launched the light dingy and pulled off to the sloop.
She rode rather deep in the water, but that did not trouble him. Most wooden craft leak more or less, and it was a considerable time since he had pumped her out. Clambering wearily on board, he made the dingy fast; and then stood still a moment or two, looking about him with his hand on the cabin slide. Thin flakes of snow drifted past him; the firs were rustling eerily ash.o.r.e, and ragged wisps of cloud drove by low down above their tops. Little frothy ripples flecked the darkening water with streaks of white and splashed angrily against the bows of the craft. The prospect was oppressively dreary, and the worn-out man was glad that he was at last in shelter and could s.n.a.t.c.h a few hours' rest.
Thrusting back the slide, he stepped below and lighted the lamp. The brightening glow showed him that the boat's starboard side was wet high up, and though there was a good deal of water in her, this puzzled him until an explanation suggested itself. They had moored the craft carefully, but he supposed she must have dragged her anchor or kedge and swung in near enough the sh.o.r.e to ground toward low tide. Then as the tide left her she would fall over on her starboard bilge, because they had lashed the heavy boom down on that side, and the water in her would cover the depressed portion of her interior. This reasoning was probably correct; but he did not foresee the result until, after lighting the stove and putting on the kettle, he opened the provision locker, which was to starboard. Then he saw with a shock of dismay that the stock of food they had counted on was ruined. The periodically-submerged flour-bag had rotted and burst, and most of its contents had run out into the water as the boat righted with the rising tide; the prepared cereals, purchased to save cooking, had turned to moldy pulp; and the few other stores were in much the same condition. There were only two sound cans of beef and a few ounces of unspoiled tea in a canister.
Carroll's courage failed him as he realized it, but he felt that he must eat and sleep before he could grapple with the situation. He would allow himself a scanty meal and a few hours' rest. While the kettle boiled, he crawled out and shortened in the cable and plied the pump. Then he went below and feasted on preserved beef and tea, gaging the size of each slice with anxious care, until he reluctantly laid the can aside. After that, he filled his pipe and stretching his aching limbs out on the port locker, which was comparatively dry, soon sank into heavy sleep.
CHAPTER XXVIII
CARROLL SEEKS HELP
Carroll slept for several hours before he awakened and sat up on the locker, s.h.i.+vering. He had left the hatch slightly open, and a confused uproar reached him from outside; the wail of wind-tossed trees; the furious splash of ripples against the bows; and the drumming of the halyards upon the mast. There was no doubt that it was blowing hard, but the wind was off the land and the sloop in shelter.
Filling his pipe, he set himself to think, and promptly decided that it would have been better had he gone down to the sloop in the beginning, before the provisions had been spoiled. A natural reluctance to leave his helpless companion had mainly prevented him from doing this, but he had also been encouraged by the possibility of obtaining a deer now and then.
It was clear that he had made a mistake in remaining, but it was not the first time he had done so, and the point was unimportant. The burning question was--what should he do now.
It would obviously be useless to go back with rations that would barely suffice for the march. Vane still had food enough to keep life in one man for a little while, and it would not be a long run to Comox with a strong northerly wind. If the sloop would face the sea that was running he might return with a.s.sistance before his comrade's scanty store was exhausted.
Getting out the mildewed chart, he laid off his course, carefully trimmed and lighted the binnacle lamp, and going up on deck hauled in the kedge-anchor. He could not break the main one out, though he worked savagely with a tackle, and deciding to slip it, he managed to lash three reefs in the mainsail and hoist it with the peak left down. Then he stopped to gather breath--for the work had been cruelly heavy--before he let the cable run and hoisted the jib.
She paid off when he put up his helm, and the black loom of trees ash.o.r.e vanished. He thought that he could find his way out of the inlet, but he knew that he had done so only when the angry ripples that splashed about the boat suddenly changed to confused tumbling combers. They foamed up in quick succession on her quarter, but he fancied she would withstand their onslaught so long as he could prevent her from s.c.r.e.w.i.n.g up to windward when she lifted. It would need constant care, and if he failed, the next comber would, no doubt, break on board. His task was one that would have taxed the vigilance of a strong, well-fed man, and Carroll had already nearly reached the limit of his powers.
His case, however, was by no means an unusual one. The cost of the subjugation of the wilderness is the endurance of hunger and thirst, cold and crus.h.i.+ng fatigue; and somebody pays, to the utmost farthing. Carroll sitting, drenched, strung up and hungry, at the helm, was merely playing his part in the struggle, though he found it cruelly difficult.
It was pitch dark, but he must gaze ahead and guess the track of the pursuing seas by the angle of the spouting white ridge abreast of the weather shrouds. He had a compa.s.s, but when his course did not coincide with safety it must be disregarded. The one essential thing was to keep the sloop on top, and to do so he had frequently to let her fall off dead before the mad white combers that leaped out of the dark. By and by his arms began to ache from the strain of the tiller, and his wet fingers grew stiff and claw-like. The nervous strain was also telling, but that could not be helped; he must keep the craft before the sea or go down with her. There was one consolation; she was traveling at a furious speed.
At length, morning broke, gray and lowering, over a leaden sea that was seamed with white. Carroll glanced longingly at the meat can on the locker near his feet. He could reach it by stooping, though he dare not leave the helm, but he determined to wait until noon before he broke his fast again. It could not be very far to Comox, but the wind might drop.
Then he began to wonder how he had escaped the perils of the night. He had come down what was really a wide and not quite straight sound, pa.s.sing several unlighted islands. Before starting, he had decided that he would run so far, and then change his course a point or two, but he could not be sure that he had done so. He had a hazy recollection of seeing surf, and once a faint loom of land, but he supposed that he had avoided it half-consciously or that chance had favored him.
In the afternoon, the wind changed a little, backing to the northwest; the sky grew brighter, and Carroll made out shadowy land over his starboard quarter. Soon he recognized it with a start. It was the high ridge north of Comox. He had run farther than he had expected, and he must try to hoist the peak of the mainsail and haul her on the wind.
There was danger in rounding her up, but it must be faced, though a sea foamed across her as he put down his helm. Another followed, but he scrambled forward and struggled desperately to hoist the down-hanging gaff. The halyards were swollen; and he could scarcely keep his footing on the deluged deck that slanted steeply under him. He thought he could have mastered the banging canvas had he been fresh; but worn out as he was, drenched with spray and buffeted by the shattered tops of the seas, the task was beyond his power. Giving it up, he staggered back, breathless and almost nerveless, to the helm.
He could not reach Comox, which lay to windward, with the sail half set, but it was only seventy miles or so to Nanaimo and not much farther to Vancouver. The breeze would be fair to either, and he could charter a launch or tug for the return journey. Letting her go before the sea again, he ate some canned meat ravenously, tearing it with one hand.