Part 8 (1/2)

”Shall I take it over, Mr. Carlsen?” he asked. ”It's my watch.”

Carlsen surveyed him coolly. Either he pretended not to have heard the girl's innuendo or it failed to get under his skin.

”You'd better get into some dry togs, Rainey,” he said. ”And I'll prescribe a stiff jorum of grog-hot. Take your time about it.” Rainey, conscious of a wrenched feeling in his side, a growing nausea and weakness, thanked him and took the advice. Half an hour later, save for a general soreness, he felt too vigorous to stay below, and went on deck again. Sandy had been taken forward. He encountered the hunter, Deming, and asked after the roustabout.

”Born to be hanged,” answered the hunter with more friendliness than he had ever exhibited. ”They pumped it out of him, and got his own pump to workin'. He'll be as fit as a fiddle presently. Asking for you.”

”I'll see him soon,” said Rainey, and again offered relief to Carlsen, which the doctor this time accepted.

”Miss Simms misunderstood me, Rainey,” he said easily. ”My intent was, that Sandy could never stay on top in those seas, and that it was idle to send a valuable man after a lout who was as good as dead. If it hadn't been for the whale you'd never have landed him. And the killers got the whale,” he added, with his cynical grin.

So he had overheard. Rainey wondered whether the girl would accept the amended statement if it was offered. At its best interpretation it was callous.

When Hansen took over the watch Rainey went below to Sandy. Lund had disappeared, but he found the giant in the triangular forecastle by Sandy's bunk.

”That you, Rainey?” Lund asked as he heard the other's tread. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper:

”The lad's grateful. Make the most of it. If he wants to spill ennything, git all of it.”

But Sandy seemed able to do nothing but grin sheepishly. He was half drunk with the steaming potion that had been forced down him.

”I'll see you later, Mister Rainey,” he finally stammered out. ”See you later, sir. You--I--”

Lund suddenly nudged Rainey in the ribs.

”Never mind now,” he whispered.

A sailor had come into the forecastle with an extra blanket for Sandy, contributed from the hunters' mess.

”That's all right, Sandy,” said Rainey. ”Better try to get some sleep.”

The roustabout had already dropped off. The seaman touched his temple in an old-fas.h.i.+oned salute.

”That was a smart job you did, sir,” he said to Rainey.

The latter went aft with Lund through the hunters' quarters. They were seated under the swinging lamp which had been lit in the gloom of the gale, playing poker, as usual. But all laid down their cards as Rainey appeared.

”Good work, sir!” said one of them, and the rest chimed in with expressions that warmed Rainey's heart. He felt that he had won his way into their good-will. They were human, after all, he thought.

”Glad to have you drop in an' gam a bit with us, or take a hand in a game, sir,” added Deming.

Rainey escaped, a trifle embarra.s.sed, and pa.s.sed through the alley that went by the cook's domain into the main cabin. Tamada was at work, but turned a gleam of slanting eyes toward Rainey as they pa.s.sed the open door. The main cabin was empty.

”Come into my room,” suggested Lund. ”I want to talk with you.”

He stuffed his pipe and proffered a drink before he spoke.

”Best day's work you've done in a long while, matey,” he said quietly.

”Take Deming's offer up, an' mix in with them hunters. An' pump thet kid, Sandy. Pump him dry. He'll know almost as much as Tamada, an' he'll come through with it easier.”