Bonanza

Olaffson looked up and grinned contentedly; Redpath glanced at me sideways. Before him the furnace whirled in white vapour, and the tamarac logs heaved and melted like fat. At the first inward step I saw a human shape pushed away in the corner, and this unconscious figure suggested the chief engineer, his arms and legs secured by wide straps.

Redpath was peering at the indicator as I came in, and reducing the pressure. Then he walked out of the blast of heat, unfastened and pulled off his cassock, removed the hard hat and false hair, and stood up before us by the gleam of the furnace as the English gentleman he professed to be. I thought the Icelander would have fallen in sheer amazement. The adventurer’s gentle voice became audible, but its tone no longer suggested friendliness when he addressed me.

“I have told you the truth. He thought I was the priest, and as such has been serving me. I have played the game by myself—always the safest way. You see I have done very well.”

“Where is MacCaskill?” I shouted.

Redpath stroked his flabby chin very gently, his eyes upon me all the time. I was ashamed to show fear, but I hesitated, even when Akshelah pushed me slightly forward. Without raising his voice, the masterful man made his words perfectly distinct.

“We shall reach shore before morning, I hope. For our mutual convenience, I shall then recommend a parting, as I find we have not so many sympathies in common as I had supposed. I shall proceed to discover Bonanza. You will travel back to your aboriginal home. My advice is sometimes worth following.”

His large face never moved; the cold words seemed as though spoken out of a mask. I could merely repeat my question:

“Where’s MacCaskill?”

Again he ignored the question, but he smiled when he said:

“The men, I understand, are enjoying themselves. They appear to have organised a small conversazione, or something of a very similar nature.”

A shiver ran along the ship, as a slight resistance met her speed, and she raced on again.

“Sand or gravel?” called Redpath coldly, and Olaffson sulkily called back, “Sand!”

The wind had been dropping all the time, and now singing and hoarse laughter sounded above all the noises of the ship, warning me that I was neglecting my duty and my partner. Redpath went back to the engine.

“I cannot imagine that you propose to resist my plans,” he said, in the superior cynical style; and, as I left, he called after me, “Excuse me for troubling you, but if you should meet the second engineer, will you be good enough to ask him where he keeps the oil-can?”

The smoke-room of the men was placed well up in the stem. The bounding and plunging became shorter as we worked along, dodging the rolling barrels, until a lantern swung from a rafter overhead, and I pulled Akshelah back so that I might command a view of the cabin, where the oaths and jests became continually louder. The ship might have been freighted with wild beasts.

I saw MacCaskill sitting between a couple of inebriated human parrots; he was diplomatically taking his share in the conversation, and although practically a prisoner, inasmuch as he was detained against his wish, no harm would be likely to befal him so long as he made no attempt to escape. The men were in the mood to be aggressively friendly with anyone who would agree with them, and would be just as ill-disposed should their inclinations be crossed. My hopes began to run very low. The command had been taken out of Lennie’s hands. The master of the Carillon that night was Captain Corn Whisky.

Who but Redpath would have worked such a beastly plan into effect? He had methodically smuggled the forbidden stuff on board, had kept it hidden, and had distributed it among these hopeless lake drunkards at what was for him the favourable hour of the electric storm.

Some scud raced across the sky, and between the rack and the lightning came the smoky gleam of the aurora; the wind was so dry as to be stifling when I met it upon deck; the haze was rolling up, and the light increasing.

Lennie stood over the wheel, tired and silent. Sandy advanced cautiously, and said when we met:

“I was jest a-comin’ down meself. They’ve got her a-goin’ pretty good now, but while ago she was racin’ full rip. Captain’s mad enough to kill. You felt that sand bar, eh?”

“Come over here,” I said, wishing to take him from the dark-looking captain; and the mate looked at me quickly, and came.

We stood over the hatchway, and I told him to bend and listen. He inclined his ear, his face towards me, and soon I saw a change working in his features. I expected him to act instantly, but he had been frightened before that night, and he was badly frightened now. He went on staring at me, his face stupid.

“There’s only one thing what starts men inter that sort o’ noise.”

“Sandy,” I said—“captain, you, and I are sober, and Mac, who’s kept below, and Redpath and Olaffson, who’re running this ship, and Pete, whom they’ve knocked stupid.”

The little mate was grey under the quivering lights.

“Redpath! What? Who’s Redpath?”

“Father Lacombe, he called himself, and he’ll shoot as soon as look.”

Sandy moistened his lips.

“Lucky the storm’s passin’,” he half whispered. “I must tell captain, though he won’t do good while he’s mad. I tell ye I don’t like it.”

There was no need to go for the captain. A hoarse shout came to us, and that same moment the ship swerved mightily. There was no one at the wheel; Lennie lurched over the deck, his hands feeling as though he were blind, mastered by his fear and his superstition.

“We’re off our course—ben off hours!” he shouted, swaying about the deck, and once I thought he meant to throw himself over. “How many times have ye ben in these waters?” he yelled, swinging upon me as though I had contradicted him. “What do ye know of this part, you liar? Look at yonder, would you?”

“Let him work it off,” muttered Sandy.

Where the smoky mist was blown a little aside, I made out the grim outline of the shore, with its trees, directly ahead.

“There’s no passage here!” raved the captain, hitting at me. “We shan’t ever reach that land. This is shallow water—sand an’ rocks all the way. I’ve seen ’em peepin’ outer the waves as black as Satan, an’ I’ve pulled her off jest in time every half minute. We’ll strike a reef next thing, an’ be playin’ of harps an’ wearin’ of crowns by morning—”

He was interrupted by a shrill cry from keen-eyed Akshelah. The haze had broken behind, where she pointed wildly with both hands.

“Muchumeneto!” she screamed. “See him! He has been with us, and now he follows. His dominion is upon the water. He watches us. Look! His eye! his eye following us!”

Lennie staggered forward towards the stern, gazing blankly, both hands above his eyes, and panting like a broken horse. I stared into the lessening wind, between the ghost-lights and the gloom, where the tossing dark-blue water came up, and simultaneously we saw the bright eye—red, as if bloodshot—flash, and go out, and flash again as a great wave surged up from the south.

The wind rushed, carrying along far north a weird sound, the voice of that creature, while points of light, like fireflies, darted suddenly into the distant veil of mist, and went out immediately, the creature panting forth its fiery breath as it sweated in pursuit.

Sandy divested the monster of all supernatural attributes—another steamer, undoubtedly the vessel which had come into Gull, too late, as the mate now understood, to catch the Carillon. She was flying after us along the line of the storm, knowing that wherever we passed it would be safe for her to follow. The red eye went on flashing, and the whistle chirped, as the mate expressed it; but we had no lights to show that night, and our whistle would not chirp back.

“They’re crazy!” shouted Lennie, swinging back. “Same as us! Where’s Pete?”

As he seemed more in a mood to take the information, Sandy gave it carefully.

It seemed to daze the captain, but it had at least the effect of bringing him to his senses.

“Where’s Dave?”

“Raddled!”

Lennie nodded, as though it were the answer he had expected, but his face was full of vengeance.

“Pigs don’t feed alone,” he grimly suggested, stopped, and the mate nodded.

The captain swore very quietly.

“What’s the man who works the racket?” he said; and now it was my turn to answer.

He quickly cut me short.

“Get to the wheel, Sandy. Keep her off the rocks if ye can. I’m a-goin’ to stop her, or blow her up. Boy, fetch me up that bar!”

I lifted the iron bar used for stretching the ropes, and gave it to the captain.

He made a hurried movement towards the hatchway, but before he could begin to descend the hull crashed upon a reef, and we all went down rolling. The ship lifted, groaned with the effort dragged herself free, and leapt forward into deep water, game to the end, her pace diminishing because of the shock and the ragged rent which the rocks must have made along her.

Lennie picked himself up, took the bar, and again made for the hatchway, but now with murder on his face.

“Best have a plan, captain!” I called, to conciliate him; and he looked back, stopped, and joined me, possibly because he thought I was more of a fighter than himself.