Part 23 (1/2)

PEGGY SIMMS

”Caught with the goods!” said Lund. ”Two tries at mutiny in one day, my lads. You want to git it into your boneheads that I'm runnin' this s.h.i.+p from now on. I can sail it without ye and, by G.o.d, I'll set the bunch of ye ash.o.r.e same's you figgered on doin' with me if you don't sit up an'

take notice! The rifles an' guns”--he glanced at the orderly display of weapons in racks on the wall--”are too vallyble to chuck over, but here go the sh.e.l.ls, ev'ry last one of them. So that nips _that_ little plan, Deming.”

He turned back the slip to display the contents.

”Open a port, Rainey, an' heave the lot out.”

Rainey did so while the hunters gazed on in silent chagrin.

”There's one thing more,” said Lund, grinning at them. ”If enny of you saw a man hurtin' a dog, you'd probably fetch him a wallop. But you don't think ennything of scarin' the life out of a half-baked kid an'

markin' up his hide like a patchwork quilt. Thet kid's stayin' aft after this. One of you monkey with him, an' you'll do jest what he's bin doin', wish you was dead an' overboard.”

He turned on his heel and walked to the door, Rainey following.

”Burial of the skipper at dawn,” said Lund. ”All hands on deck, clean an' neatly dressed to stand by. An' see yore behavior fits the occasion.

Deming, you'll turn out, too. No malingerin'.”

It was plain that the news of the captain's death was known to them.

They showed no surprise. Rainey was sure that Tamada had not mentioned it. It had leaked out through the grape-vine telegraphy of all s.h.i.+ps.

Doubtless, he thought, the after-cabin and its doings was always being spied upon.

”Will you take the service ter-morrer?” Lund asked Rainey when they were back in the cabin. ”Bein' as yo're an eddicated chap?”

”Why--I don't know it. Is there a prayer-book aboard? I thought the skipper always presided.”

”I'm only deputy-skipper w'en it comes down to that,” said Lund. ”It ain't my s.h.i.+p. I'm jest runnin' it under contract with my late partner.

The s.h.i.+p belongs to the gal. And yo're top officer now, in the regular run. As to a prayer-book, there ain't sech an article aboard to my knowledge. But I'd like to have it go off s.h.i.+pshape. For Simms' sake as well as the gal's. I reckon he used his best jedgment 'bout puttin' back after me on the floe. I might have done the same thing myself.”

Rainey doubted that statement, and set it down to Lund's generosity.

Many of his late words and actions had displayed a latent depth of feeling that he had never credited Lund with possessing. He could not help believing that, in some way, the girl had brought them to the surface.

”I thought I saw a Bible in the safe,” he said, ”when we were looking for the sh.e.l.ls. There may be a prayer-book. I suppose there have been occasions for it. The mate died at sea last trip.”

”There may be,” returned Lund. ”That's where Simms 'ud keep it. He warn't what you'd call a religious man. We'll take a look afore we turn in.”

There were offices to be performed for the dead captain that the girl, with all her willingness, could not attempt. Lund did not mention them, and Rainey vacillated about disturbing her until he saw Tamada go through the cabin with folded canvas and a flag. The j.a.panese tapped on the door, which was instantly opened to him. He had been expected.

There was no doubt that Tamada, with his medical experience, was best fitted for the task, but it seemed to Rainey also that the girl had deliberately ignored their services and that, despite her involuntary admiration of Lund's fight against odds, or in revulsion of it, she reckoned them hostile to her sentiments. Lund roused him by talking of the burial-service for Simms.

”You're a writer,” he said. ”What's the good of knowin' how to handle words if you can't fake up some sort of a service? One's as good as another, long as it sounds like the real thing.

”I reckon there's a G.o.d,” he went on. ”Somethin' that started things, somethin' that keeps the stars from runnin' each other down, but, after He wound up the clock He made, I don't figger He bothers much about the works.

”Luck's the big thing that counts. We're all in on the deal. Some of us git the deuces an' treys, an' some git the aces. If yo're born lucky things go soft for you. But, if it warn't for luck, for the chance an'

the hope of it, things 'ud be upside down an' plain anarchy in a jiffy.

If it warn't the pore devil's idea that his luck has got to change for the better, mebbe ter-morrer, he'd start out an' cut his own throat, or some one else's, if he had ginger enough.”