Part 17 (1/2)

The nearest men took up the body of the doctor and they all filed forward, silently obedient to the man who ordered them.

”They ain't all whipped yit,” said Lund. ”Not them hunters. They're still sufferin' from gold-blink, but I'll clean their eyesight for 'em.

Look after the lady an' her father, Rainey.”

Tamada entered as if nothing had happened. He carried a tray of dishes and cutlery that he laid down on the table.

”Never mind settin' a place for Carlsen, Tamada,” said Lund. ”He's lost his appet.i.te--permanent.” The Oriental's face did not change.

”Yes, sir,” he answered.

The girl shuddered. Rainey saw that Lund was exhilarated by his victory, that the primitive fighting brute was prominent. Carlsen had tried to shoot first, goaded to it; his death was deserved; but it seemed to Rainey that Lund's exhibition of savagery was unnecessary. But he also saw that Lund would not heed any protest that he might make, he was still swept on by his course of action, not yet complete.

”I'll borrow Carlsen's s.e.xtant,” said Lund. ”Nigh noon, an' erbout time I got our reckonin'.” He went into the doctor's cabin and came out with the instrument, tucking it under his arm as he went on deck.

Tamada went stolidly on with his preparations. He paused at the little puddle of blood where Carlsen's head had struck the table, turned, and disappeared toward his galley, promptly emerging with a wet cloth.

The girl put her hands over her eyes as Tamada methodically mopped up the telltale stains.

”The brute!” she said. Then took away her hands and extended them toward Rainey.

”What will he do with my father?” she said. ”He thinks that dad deserted him. And the doctor, who might have saved him, is dead. My G.o.d, what shall I do? What shall I do?”

Rainey found himself murmuring some attempts at consolation, a defense of Lund.

”You too?” she said with a contempt that, unmerited as it was, stung Rainey to the quick. ”You are on his side. Oh!”

She wheeled into her father's room and shut the door. Rainey heard the click of the bolt on the other side. Tamada was going on with his table-laying. Rainey saw that he had left Carlsen's place vacant. He listened for a moment, but heard nothing within the skipper's cabin. The swift rush of events was still a jumble. Slowly he went up the companionway to the deck.

CHAPTER XI

HONEST SIMMS

Lund greeted Rainey with a curt nod. Hansen was still at the helm. The crew on duty were standing about alert, their eyes on Lund. They had found a new master, and they were cowed, eager to do their best.

”It ain't noon yet,” said Lund. ”I hardly need to shoot the sun with the land that close.”

Rainey looked over the starboard bow to where a series of peaks and lower humps of dark blue proclaimed the Aleutian island bridge stretching far to the west.

”I'll show this crew they've got a skipper aboard,” said Lund. ”How's the cap'en?”

Rainey told him.

”We'll see what we can do for him,” said Lund. ”He's better off without that fakir, that's a cinch. Called me a murderer,” he went on with a good-humored laugh. ”Got s.p.u.n.k, she has. And she's a trim bit. A slip of a gal, but she's game. An' good-lookin' eh, Rainey?”

He shot a keen glance at the newspaperman.

”You're in her bad hooks, too, ain't ye? We'll fix that after a bit. She don't know when she's well off. Most wimmin don't. An' she's the sort that needs handlin' right. She's upset now, natural, an' she hates me.”

He smiled as if the prospect suited him. A suspicion leaped into Rainey's brain. Lund had said he would not see a decent girl harmed. But the man was changed. He had fought and won, and victory shone in his eyes with a glitter that was immune from sympathy, for all his air of good-nature.