The Land of Frozen Suns: A Novel by Bertrand W. Sinclair
CHAPTER III--WHICH SHOWS THAT THE WORM DOES NOT ALWAYS TURN
The door of the pilot-house swung open and the captain himself steppedout as Bilk reached for the knob. The eyes of this river autocrat fellinquiringly on me. I daresay I was not a prepossessing figure in thedull glimmer of a deck lamp.
"What the devil's this?" he demanded.
"Feller picked up alongside us, hangin' on by an unstowed line, sir."Bilk explained.
"Huh!" the captain grunted.
"See here, sir," I began. "I'm much obliged for being picked up. AndI'll be much more obliged if you'll put me in the way of getting intosome clothes and landing as soon as possible. I was to have taken the_Memphis Girl_ down-river to-night. Mr. Bolton, of the Bolton and Kerrbank will make it all right with you."
The captain guffawed coarsely in my face. "God bless me, that's allright. Hey, Tupper,"--to the mate, who came up while I wasspeaking--"here's a lad with a black eye, a skinned nose, and no clotheson, who wants us to put about--and his banker will make it all right.Ha--ha--ha!" And he laughed till my cheeks burned.
"I don't ask anything of you only to get ashore, first stopping-place,"I spluttered, trembling with anger; his patent disbelief of my statementwas hard to swallow. "I'm not to blame for getting robbed and tumbledinto the river, and I don't want my people to think I've been drowned."
"There's the shore," he jerked his thumb backward significantly. "Swimfor it, if the deck o' the _Moon_ don't suit you."
That silenced me for the time. I knew I could never make shore, weary asI was. The inhospitable atmosphere was better than the unquiet bosom ofthe Mississippi. I had no stomach for further natatory stunts thatnight. And I knew that it depended on the good-will of this grouchyindividual as to when and where I should set foot on land. He squintedcalculatingly at me for a second or two, then addressed the mate.
"Take 'im below, Tupper," he said. "Dig 'im up some jeans an' a pair o'shoes, an' let 'im roost somewhere forrad. We can use 'im, I reckon."
"Look here," I remonstrated anxiously; he was overlooking my voice inthe matter in a way that didn't suit me at all. "I want to know when I'mgoing to get a chance to go back to St. Louis? You don't seem tounderstand the fix I'm in."
"Got passage-money about you?" he asked coolly.
"Why, of course not," I replied. "A fellow doesn't usually carry moneyin his underclothes."
"He don't, hey?" He stepped nearer to me and suddenly thrust a hairyfist under my nose. "Who the hell are you, t' howl about gettin' ashore?You look t' me like a man that's broke jail or somethin' o' the kind. Astough a lookin' citizen as you are ought t' be damn thankful for achance t' climb aboard. You'll earn your keep while you're on the_Moon_--an' no questions asked. See? Take him along, Tupper. Kick hisribs in, if he makes a roar. Get forrad, there."
That was all the satisfaction I got out of Captain Speer; and truth totell I followed the mate with proper meekness. I knew enough of theriver-boat way to avoid open clashing with sternwheel folk. Deep-watermen paint lurid pictures of hell-ships, but I have my doubts, from whatI've seen and heard, of any wind-jammer that ever sailed the seven seasbeing worse that some of the flat-bottomed craft that bucked theMissouri and Mississippi in the year of our Lord eighteen eighty-one.
The mate, a sullen, red-whiskered brute, hustled me down 'tween decks,rummaged in a locker and brought forth a frayed suit of cotton overalls,and a pair of brogans two sizes too large for my feet--and they are notsmall by any means.
"Get into them, if you feel the need o' clothes," he growled. "You campon that pile o' sacks an' stay there till you're wanted."
Much as I resented his overbearing speech and manner I didn't think itgood policy to row with him just then. My face ached from the punchingit had already received; physical weariness, bruises, the strangenessand palpable belligerence that confronted me on the _Moon_, all servedto cow me, that had never been a fighting-man, nor thrown among thebreed. My knowledge of the genus river-rat was sufficient to tell methat the mate would rather enjoy carrying out the captain's order inregard to my ribs. I wanted none of his game at that time and place. SoI donned the overalls and kept my mouth closed.
He wasted no more time on me, and when he was gone I settled myselfphilosophically on the sack-pile, wondering how long it would be tillthe Moon would make a landing. The wisest plan seemed to consist ofdodging trouble while aboard, and stepping ashore at the first tie-up.Otherwise, I judged myself slated to enact the role of roustabout at thepleasure of the rude gentleman in command.
The night was warm; my wet underclothing not uncomfortable. Curled in aneasy posture on the folded sacks I fell asleep, undisturbed by themonotonous beat of the _Moon's_ mechanical heart. The blast of herwhistle, long-drawn, a demoniac, ear-splitting cross between a screamand a bellow, wakened me; and while I sat up, rubbing my sleepy eyes andwondering how long I'd slept, the boorish mate yelled from a gangway.
"Here you. Come along--an' be quick about it."
When I sensed the fact that he was directing his remarks at me, my firstimpulse was to lay hold of something and heave it at his bewhiskeredface. But upon second thought I refrained, and ascended resentfully tothe upper deck, grinding my teeth at the broad back of him as I went. Ahalf dozen other men, roustabouts I judged from their generalunkemptness, were gathered amidships by the rail. Off in the east daywas just breaking; from which I gathered that I had slept seven hours ormore. The speed of the _Moon_ slackened perceptibly. Out of the graynessahead a slip loomed ghostly in the dawn, tier on tier of cordwoodstacked on the rude wharf; upreared on rows of piling, it seems to myjuvenile fancy like a monster centipede creeping out to us over thesmooth water.
Somewhere in the depths of the _Moon_ a bell tinkled. Immediately thegreat paddle reversed, churning the river surface into dirty foam, andwe began to sidle against the pier-end. Fore and aft, lines were run outand made fast by a dim figure that flitted from behind the woodricks.The mate growled an order, and a gangplank joined the _Moon's_ deck tothe wharf. Down this we filed, his Sorrel Whiskers glanced over oneshoulder at me.
At once my grimy companions, Bilk among the number, fell upon the pileof wood. For a moment I stood undecided--then made to walk boldly pastthe mate. Back of the wharf I saw the land, a sloping rise dotted withfarmhouses, take form in the growing light; and I was for St. Louiswhether or no. But Tupper forestalled me. I did not get past him. Heseemed to be paying little attention, yet when I came abreast of him,heart somewhat a-flutter he lurched and struck out--with marvellousquickness for a stodgy-built man. There was no escaping the swing of hisfist. I was knocked down before I knew it, for the second time in twelvehours. Satisfaction gleamed in his small, blue eyes. He stepped back,and when I got to my feet, something dazed and almost desperate, he wasfacing me with a goodly billet in one hand.
"Dig in there, blast yuh!" he roared. "Grab a stick an' down below withit, or I'll fix yuh good an' plenty, yuh----"
The fierceness of him, the futility of pitting myself against a club,much less his ponderous fists, quelled me once more. I hoisted a lengthof cordwood upon my shoulder and passed aboard. Another trip I made, andsome of the murderous rage that seethed inside me must have shown uponmy countenance; for Bilk lagged, and, edging near as we trod the gangwaytogether, muttered a word of advice.
"Fergit it, kid," he warned. "Don't go agin' him. He's a killer--he'sgot more'n one man's scalp a'ready. An' it's the calaboose for you ifyuh do lay him out. See?"
Bilk was right. I was aware that while falling short of mutiny on thehigh seas, a good smash at Mr. Tupper would land me in jail rightspeedily--providing the captain and the other mate left enough of me tolock up--and seeing that St. Louis and my friends were already farastern, I might find myself in a worse pickle than aboard the _Moon_.This, coupled with a keen sense of shame for blows received and not yetreturned, was galling. But cowardly or not, just as you choose, I couldnot cope with sluggers of that heavy calibre, and I knew it. So,temporarily, I subsided, and sullenly became a sat
The empty space behind the boilers, and a good share of the lower deckspace was duly filled with wood; the _Moon_ got under way again, andthen I had a breathing spell, which I spent turning over in my mindcertain plans that suggested a way out of the difficulty. Going toMontana, when my destination was Texas, was not to my liking, and themanner of my going I liked least of all. While I pondered Bilk drewnear.
"First trip on a sternwheeler, huh?" he asked, in a not unfriendly tone.
"Yes--like this," I answered, and he grinned understandingly.
"I should have jumped and made a swim for it," I mourned. That had notoccurred to me while we were tied up at the wood-wharf; in fact, mythinking was none too coherent about that time--Tupper's fist had jarredme from head to heel.
"He'd likely 'a' plugged yuh quick's yuh hit the water," Bilk observedindifferently. "He's noway backward about usin' a pistol, if he takes anotion."
"Do you mean to say they'd dare shoot a man for quitting the steamer?" Iuttered incredulously.
"Sure." Bilk's positive answer was distressingly matter of fact.
With exceeding bitterness I aired my opinion of such a state of affairs.Bilk merely shrugged his shoulders.
"They're short-handed, that's why they froze t' you," he explained."She'll lose time every wood-loadin' if there ain't men enough to packit aboard. Then the freight's slow, the passengers kick, an' the ownerspry up hell with the captain. Lord, was yuh never rung in like thisbefore? It's nothin' t' bein' shanghaied onto a wind-jammer that's dueround the Horn--months of it yuh get then, an' it's tough farin', too.You ain't got no call t'roar on this. We'll be in Benton in ten days orso. What's that amount to?"
"It amounts to quite a lot with me," I responded. "I'm not going toBenton if I can help it. I'll fool that red-whiskered bully yet."
"Don't let him catch yuh at it, kid," Bilk observed. "He'll give yuhworse'n ten days' steam-boatin' if yuh mix with him."
But I did go to Benton, in spite of my intention to the contrary. The_Moon_, as Bilk had told me, was a through freight, a fast boat,passengers and cargo billed direct to the head of navigation, andcarrying mail for but one or two places between. Towns along theMissouri were few and far apart those days, once north of Sioux City,and for none did the _Moon_ slow up. Wood-slips were her only landing;since food for the hungry monster that droned in the bowels of the shipwas a prime necessity. For the next three days Tupper, and Bailey, thesecond mate, gave me no chance to quit my involuntary servitude. Theirfists I avoided by submission. When we had progressed that far up-riverI ceased to look for opportunity to take French leave, reasoning that Iwould have more trouble retracing my steps through that thinly settledland than if I stuck to the _Moon_ and made the round trip; besidesthis, my anger at the dirty treatment had settled to cold malevolence. Iwanted to stay with the _Moon_, to be forced to stay with her--for I hadpromised to make the captain and the mate dance to sad music once wetied to a St. Louis dock and I could get the ear of my guardian. Thatprospect was my only joy for many dolorous days.
Meantime I unwillingly carried wood, slushed decks, and performed suchother tasks as were gruffly allotted me; always under a protest which Idared not voice. I suppose one would eventually become accustomed tobeing cursed every time one turned around, but it never failed to set meplotting reprisals; I can easily understand the psychology of amutineer, I think. Once or twice I had it in mind to make some sort ofappeal to one of the passengers--a prosperous-looking individual who,Bilk informed me, was a St. Louis fur merchant, and whom I thought mightpossibly know my father. But the sleek one transfixed me with such apalpably contemptuous air when I was in the act of approaching him thatI hadn't the heart to face a rebuff. A sternwheel deckhand is not anattractive person, as a rule, and I suppose I looked the part,aggravated considerably by my discolored optic and bruised face. Myfailure to get speech with one of the elect, and being scowled at as ifI were a mangy dog into the bargain, didn't tend to make me feel kindlytoward the well-fed, well-clothed mortals who lounged on the after decksmoking Havana cigars. Of the hide man I took particular note, hoping tomeet him some time in the future, when I'd settled with Tupper, Speer_et al_, and tell him what a damned snob he was. There was a woman ortwo aboard, but they stuck to their cabins and concerned me not--until aday when I was fool enough to show a trace of the soreness that alwaysbubbled within.
I do not know why I tackled the captain. I did not want wages, for Bilkhad made it clear to me that if I signed the steamer's roll I therebyprecluded the possibility of hauling the _Moon's_ commander over thecoals for refusing to set me ashore and keeping me in practical peonage,and I would not have missed making it warm for that coarse ruffian forhalf the cattle my dad had left me. I dare say it was a flickering up ofthe smoldering fires of hostility. Neither Tupper nor Speer ever cameclose to me that I did not have to fight down an impulse to club themwith whatever was nearest my hand. And this day I unthinkingly baitedCaptain Speer, much as I feared the weight of his ready fists. I wascoiling a rope just aft of the wheel-house, when the captain paced alongthe deck, and turned a cold eye upon me. I dropped the rope.
"Say," I asked bluntly, and perhaps more belligerently than was wise,"do I get paid wages for the work I'm doing?"
"Hey? Get paid?" he growled. Then he lifted up his voice and swore: "ByGod, you pay for the grub you eat and the clothes you got on an' we'lltalk about wages. You--you double-dyed, gilt-edged,son-of-a-feather-duster!"
This is not a literal transcription of Captain Speer's expletives, butit will have to serve. His rendering was of the sort frowned upon inpolite literature, being altogether unprintable. Never did the captainsacrifice force to elegancy of expression. I have heard it said, and thestatement is indubitably true, that he could swear louder and faster andlonger than any two men between Benton and New Orleans. With the fulltide of his reviling upon me, he lurched forward, his big-knuckledfingers reaching for my throat. I turned to dart around the wheel-house;Tupper, grinning maliciously, showed up from that quarter. And when Iswung about to go the other way I tripped and Speer nailed me before Icould dodge again. Like a cat pawing a helpless mouse, he slammed meagainst a deck-house wall, and I should doubtless have had my head wellworked over but for a timely interruption.
Aft from the wheel-house a promenade deck ran over the cabin roofs,whereon the passengers lounged when they cared to sun themselves. Thecaptain, the mate, and myself were on the narrow deck below. From justover our heads came the voice of feminine disapproval; at which CaptainSpeer let go my throat, and Tupper paused with his foot drawn back tokick me.
"You're a pretty pair of brutes, indeed you are!"
The girl, a small serious-faced thing, her brown hair standing out inwind-blown wisps from under a peaked cap, leaned over the rail and flungdown the words hotly, stamping one small foot to lend emphasis to herobservation.
"You may be typical ship's officers," she went on scornfully, "but youare certainly not _men_."
The two of them stood abashed, like pickpockets taken in the act, and aman by the girl's side put in a word.
"Miss Montell," he drawled. "You shouldn't interfere with the pastimesof our worthy skipper and mate. Let the good work go on."
"Shame on you, Mr. Barreau!" she flashed, drawing away from him.
The man paid no heed to her quick retort, but himself leaned a bitforward and spoke directly to the captain.
"Go to it, Captain Speer," he said indifferently--that is, his manner ofspeech was well simulated indifference; but I, staring up at him, sawthe storm-clouds gathering in his dark eyes. "Go ahead. Beat the boy'sface to a jelly. Kick in a few ribs for good measure. Make a thoroughjob of it. You see, I know something of the river-boat way. But when youare done with _that_, Messrs. Speer and Tupper, you shall have somelittle entertainment at my expense, I promise you."
There was a menace in the inflection.
"By the Lord, sir, I'm master on this vessel," Captain Speer at lengthfound his tongue. "If you d
"Now speaks the doughty mariner," Barreau laughed mockingly. "I shalltake a hand without troubling to come down, believe me. Colonel Coltshall arbitrate for us. If _that_ is to your liking I am at yourservice, Captain Speer."
"Another cowardly blow," cried the girl, her dainty face flushing, "andmy father shall see that you captain no more boats for the Benton andSt. Louis Company--you barbarian. I promise you that for penalty,whatever Mr. Barreau sees fit to do."
Whether the threat against his position carried weight, or if he simplyhad no hankering for an encountering with the cool individual on theupper deck, I do not know; but, at any rate, Captain Speer saw fit tosheath his claws at this juncture.
"Git t' hell out o' here, you," he grunted, under his breath. And I madehaste to "git."
Looking back, I saw Tupper and Speer striding aft. Above, the girl stoodby the rail, tucking in the flying locks with graceful movements of herhands. Barreau was staring after the retreating pair, smilingsardonically over a cigarette.
Later, I learned from Bilk that Miss Montell was the fur-merchant'sdaughter, and straightway I forgave the portly one any grievance I heldagainst him. But from none of the crew could I learn aught of Barreau.Nor did I see him again, except at ship-length. Like the girl, he keptclose to his cabin and the passengers' saloon--terra incognita to suchlowly ones as I. I was grateful, even at a distance, for between themthey had saved me a thumping--a thumping which I had reason to believewas merely postponed.
The _Moon_ was now well into Dakota. Steadily she forged up the turbidriver, thrumming past Pierre, and, farther on, Standing Rockreservation. At Bismark we made a brief stop. Then we turned The GreatBend and plunged into the Bad Lands. Through this gashed and distortedcountry the _Moon_ plowed along an ever-narrowing channel. From her deckI had my first glimpse of the buffalo, already doomed to extinction.Wild cattle and deer scuttled back up the fearful slopes at ourapproach, or vanished into the yawning canyons. Unaccustomed to thataltitude, I marveled at the clarity of the atmosphere, the wonderfulstillness of the land. The high banks that shut us in slanted away likepaint-daubed walls, what of the vari-colored strata. The ridges back ofthem were twisted and notched by ancient geologic contortions, washed bycountless rains and bleached by unnumbered centuries of sun--a strangejumble of earth and rocks and stunted trees; a place to breedsuperstitious fears, and warp the soul of a man with loneliness.
In time the _Moon_ left this monstrosity of landscape behind, emergingupon a more wholesome land. Grassy bottoms spread on either side theriver, and the upper levels ran back in a vast unbroken sweep, the trueprairie. And presently we swept around a bend into view of a cluster ofhouses lining the north shore, and the _Moon's_ whistle outdid allprevious efforts in the way of ungodly sound. Twenty minutes later shewas rubbing softly against a low wharf, her passengers were disembarked,and the back-breaking task of unloading cargo began.