Part 14 (1/2)
THE POT SIMMERS
Rainey was awakened at half past seven by the swift rush of men on deck and a confused shouting. The sun was s.h.i.+ning brightly through his porthole and then it became suddenly obscured. He looked out and saw a turreted ma.s.s of ice not half a cable's length away from the schooner, water cascading all over its hills and valleys, that were distinct enough, but so smoothed that the truth flashed over him. Here was a berg that had suddenly turned turtle and exposed its greater, under-water bulk to the air.
About it the sea was dark and vivid blue, and the berg sparkled in the sun with prismatic reflections that gave all the hues of the rainbow to its prominences, while the bulk glowed like a fire opal. Between it and the schooner the sea ran in a lasher of diminis.h.i.+ng turmoil. Hansen had carelessly sailed too close. The momentum of the _Karluk_ and its slight wave disturbance must have sufficed to upset the equilibrium of the berg, floating with only a third of its bulk above the water. And the displacement had narrowly missed the schooner's side.
He got a cup of coffee after dressing warmly, and went up. Carlsen and the girl had preceded him and were gazing at the iceberg. The doctor seemed to be in the same rare vein of humor as overnight. Lund stood at the rail with his beak of a nose wrinkled, snuffing toward the icy crags that were spouting a dazzle of white flame, set about with smaller, sudden flares of ruby, emerald and sapphire.
”Close shave, that, Rainey,” called Carlsen. ”She turned turtle on us.”
”Too close to be pleasant,” said Rainey, and went to the wheel. The girl had given him a smile, but he marked her face as weary from sleeplessness and strain. Rainey left the spokes in charge of Hansen for a minute--Hansen stolid and chewing like an automaton, undisturbed by the incident now it had pa.s.sed--and asked the girl how her father was.
”I am afraid--” she began, then glanced at Carlsen.
”He is not at all well,” said the doctor, facing Rainey, his face away from the girl. As he spoke he left his mouth open for a moment, his tongue showing between his white teeth, in a grin that was as mocking as that of a wolf, mirthless, ruthless, triumphant. And for a fleeting second his eyes matched it.
Rainey restrained a sudden desire to smash his fist into that sardonic mask. This was the day of Carlsen's antic.i.p.ated victory, the first of his calculated moves toward check-mate, and he was palpably enjoying it.
”Not--at--all--well,” repeated Carlsen slowly. ”He needs something to bring him out of himself, as he now is. A little excitement. Yet he should not be crossed in any way. We shall see.”
He s.h.i.+fted his position and looked at the girl much as a wolf, not particularly hungry, might look at a tethered lamb. His tongue just touched the inner edges of his lips. It was as if the wolf had licked his chops.
”Carlsen would be a bad loser,” Lund had once said, ”and a nasty winner.
He'd want to rub it in as soon as he knew he had you beat.”
Rainey gripped the spokes hard until he felt the pressure of his bones against the wood. Carlsen's att.i.tude had had one good effect. His nervousness had disappeared, and a cold rage taken its place. He could cheerfully have attempted to throttle Carlsen without fear of his gun.
For that matter, he had faced the pistol once and come off best. What a fool he had been, though, to let Carlsen regain his automatic! Now he was anxious for the landfall, keen for the show-down.
Far on the horizon, northward, he sighted glimmering flashes of milky whiteness that came and went to the swing of the schooner. This could not be land, he decided, or they would have announced it. It was ice, pack-ice, or floes. He tried to recollect all that he had heard or read of Arctic voyages, and succeeded only in comprehending his own ignorance. Of the rapidly changing conditions the commonest sailor aboard knew more than he. Blind Lund, sniffing to windward, smelled and heard far more than he could rightfully imagine.
Tamada appeared and announced breakfast.
”You'll be coming later, Rainey?” asked Carlsen. ”You and Lund?”
He started for the companionway and the girl followed. As she pa.s.sed the wheel Rainey spoke to her:
”I am sorry your father is worse, Miss Simms,” he said.
She looked at him with eyes that were filled with sadness, that seemed liquid with tears bravely held back.
”I am afraid he is dying,” she answered in a low voice. ”Thank you, for you sympathy. I--”
She stopped at some slight sound that Rainey did not catch. But he saw the face of Carlsen framed in the shadow of the companion, his mouth open in the wolf grin, and the man's eyes were gleaming crimson. He held up a hand for the girl. She pa.s.sed down without taking it.
Lund came over to Rainey.
”Clear weather, they tell me?” he said. ”That's unusual. Fog off the Aleutians three hundred an' fifty days of the year, as a rule. Soon as we sight land, which'll be Unalaska or thereabouts, he'll have the course changed. There's a considerable fleet of United States revenue cutters at Unalaska, an' Carlsen won't pull ennything until we're well west of there. He's pretty c.o.c.ky this mornin'. Wal, we'll see.”
There had always been a certain rollicking good-humor about Lund. This morning he was grim, his face, with its beak of a nose and aggressive chin beneath the flaming whiskers, and his whole magnificent body gave the impression of resolve and repressed action. Rainey fancied whimsically that he could hear a dynamo purring inside of the giant's ma.s.siveness. He had seen him in open rage when he had first denounced Honest Simms, but the serious mood was far more impressive.
The big man stepped like a great cat, his head was thrust slightly forward, his great hands were half open. One forgot his blindness.