Charlevoix county herald., 1910-05-07


faces below.
Men," said, finally, shadowing my
lips with one hand to keep the words
from being blown away, Il am no sea
orator, and what l have to say will be
short No doubt you know pretty
we'll already what has happened on
board during the night. All need say
| is, that Mr.. Tuttle is dead; he went
crazy and shot himself. Now, the
reason l called you aft is this. You
are no regular articled crew, OH an
ordinary voyage between ports. None
of you have signed papers, and you
have no lawful officers to take charge.
| 1t happens I'm the only navigator on
board, and so I've called you aft, after
talking with Mr. De Nova about 1t, to
get your ideas on what ought TO be
done. Some Of you speak up until we
can find out what your notions are"
No one among them made any re-
spouse, the long row of eyes staring
DULY up at me, the feet shutting in
uneasiness.
Come, Anderson, open up. You've
BEEN sounding the men for an hour
past. What's your plan?"
The boatswain, thus directly singled
out from the others, pushed his way
to the front, glancing sideways into
the faces of his mates.
We'll we have talked about ii a hit,
Mr. Stephens, but l dunno as we've
quite decided" his gruff voice borne
to us on the wind. How far are we
from the islands what Mr.. futile told
about?"
/ Nearly 200 miles to the northwest"
The big sailor cast his eyes over the
side at the sea view, slowly turning
the quid in his cheek.
"An' the wind right. faint much of
| n run, sir, after what we've already
had gettin' here. / recken you could
find that pint O sea-"
yes" / acknowledged, almost re-
luctantly, Il can find it, unless the ice
shuts us in first. But what's the use
in taking such a chance, Anderson?
futile was probably just as crazy
about that matter as he was over
other things. To my mind he never
saw any islands where he said he did.
these waters again and again, and the
charts show no land anywhere along
that latitude. I'm for calling it a
poor job, and turning back before we
get nipped. Look where we are now;
we haven't a mile of clear water eth
er side of us, and shift Of wind will
crush our sides like an eggshell."
The silent men stared gloomily out
at that grim expanse Of sea, ice and
sky but Anderson only scowled up
into my face, Shaping his mittened
hands together.
"To hell wild that sort o. rot, Mr..
Stephens" be broke forth, fiercely
Were sailor-men, an the most of us
have seen ice before. This channels
wide enough for the hooker, an what
the devil do we want more? Maybe the
Of man was a bit nutty, but he knew
how TO sail these seas, an he told a
dam straight yarn about that Span
ish ship, just the same, an I'm for
findin' out whether or not it was lie
Maybe there amt no pesos awaitin'
for us out yonder, but, by God, sir, l
want to know II for sure. An so do
my mates. Now, you say we're within
200 miles Of findin' out the truth, an
I'm hanged il I'll consent to go back
like whipped cur without takin' even
squint along that latitude"
He stamped on the deck, glowering
about him like a mad bull, evidently
daring the others to contradict. /
leaned farther out over the rail.
rs that right, lads? Has Anderson
spoken your sentiments? Do you real
ly mean to proceed in this crazy
search in spite Of all that ice out
yonder?"
No voice responded, although /
could hear the hoarse grumbling in
their threats and see their heads
shaking afflrmatively. / turned to-
ward the mate, who was standing just
behind me.
THE men are all tongue-tied. How
Is it with you, Mr.. De Nova? Are you
for further south, or a quick run
homer"
noticed him glance across toward
Celeste, crouching beneath the shelter
Of the longboat. her face showing
white against the darker background. |
even imagined the girl lifted her hand
rs II in some form Of signal; anyhow,
: the creole smiled confidently, his Jet
mustaches clearly outlined against his
cheek
wat / say, monsieur? Oh, Out.
l was for get up re steam In re en-
. CINE, and make a dash. by gar, may
be zare was re monies TO make us all
rich. Wy not? Wiz re steam we
, cheat re ice-field. Bah! l seen 1t
worse as Eat"
True" | urged in final effort, but
, the season is wrong We are driving
south in the face OF winter, the Ice.
packs are forming, aDa not breaking
up. / warn every one OF you the
| chancac ora we'll no ufnnad