The Ice Pilot Part 27

CHAPTER XXVI-IN THE SUDDEN DARKNESS

The Ice Pilot had no way to answer the piercing call of the girl, yet the revolutionists might detect her presence at any moment. The leader was alert and kept sweeping the sea to port for a chance opening which would lead farther away from the land. He turned once toward the wheelsman, berated him in Russian for not putting the wheel over soon enough, as the ship narrowly escaped a heavy floe.

Again the girl beckoned as Stirling watched the two forms beyond the canvas barricade. This time she had lifted her pale face so that he could see her shoulders and arms. They were slight and childish, and tears glistened upon her cheeks. Her call was not to be denied, and Stirling lowered his legs, swung far out over the deck, hesitated in that position, and turned his head.

Slim, the sole survivor of the forecastle crew, was reaching downward, his back straining. He straightened up and staggered aft to the taffrail. The burden he carried froze Stirling in the act of descending the ladder, and an icy chill swept through the Pilot's body, which almost unnerved him. He wound his fingers about the ratlines and breathed deeply. The Arctic air seemed strangely quiet.

Slim reached the rail and lifted one leg to the top. He removed his ta.s.selled cap, shifted his burden, turned and glanced at the girl, who had covered her eyes with her hands; then he raised the body he carried and hurled it astern of the fast-driving _Pole Star_.

Stirling watched the rude burial with straining eyes. Marr had been wounded by the rock which had struck his breast in the fight with the revolutionists, and the little skipper must have died some time after the blow. He, perhaps, had been nursed tenderly by the girl during the hours of the chase from the Gulf of Anadir. Her call showed that she feared Slim, who was now alone with her in the stern of the _Pole Star_.

Again Stirling stared at the girl. She removed her hands from her eyes, turned slowly, and grasped the edge of the canvas barricade. Her hair had fallen and she stood revealed as a frail creature in the grip of a strong man. She motioned with a flutter of her hand as she released her fingers from the canvas, then slowly sank to her knees, buried her face in her palms, and sobbed.

Slim turned from the taffrail, squared his shoulders with an upward jerk, and eyed the girl. He smiled cunningly, then came forward, glanced at the Russian leader in the shrouds, and tapped the girl on the arm.

Stirling started descending the shrouds with fevered energy. He reached the standing rigging and found a foothold in the ratlines, turned his chin, and glared aft like a s.h.a.ggy bear. The girl and Slim had vanished down the companion and the noise they made in closing the companion slide had attracted the attention of the leader. His head was quarter faced away from view.

It was then that Stirling sprang to the deck, and dashed for the open main hatch. His way to the p.o.o.p was barred by a group of revolutionists gathered at the port rail in the waist. They were watching the unfolding sh.o.r.e where it flattened out into Point Barrow. A cruiser cutter showed there, flags flying from her signal halyards, steam jetting from aft her funnel. She was balked, however, for a rampart of century-old ice formed a barrier between the lane in which she rode and the one through which the _Pole Star_ was striking out to the north and west.

Stirling hesitated a moment at the hatch. He saw that the cutter had waited off the Point in expectancy of capturing the poacher. The chase might lead out from sh.o.r.e and into the pack ice which extended to the Pole.

A shout rolled along the deck from aft, and the leader turned in time to see the crouching figure by the main hatch. He called, and the Russians at the rail wheeled and started over the deck. Stirling reached in his pocket, brought forth the little silver-plated revolver, and jabbed it forward. The knot of men recoiled. Others swarmed out from the galley house and rounded it with careful steps, but they, too, held back.

Stirling laughed defiantly. He feared the croaking sound of his own voice, so parched and dry was his throat. He pocketed the revolver, grasped the edge of the hatch, swinging out and into the sheer. His feet crushed a box as he landed in the hold. He straightened himself, raised his arms, and, blinking in the sudden darkness, stumbled aft toward the lazaret, and the way to the cabin where the girl was quartered.

CHAPTER XXVII-IN THE PIT

The main hold was littered with a maze of boxes, bales, and bundles, the last made up of sealskins roughly bound, with salt sprinkled upon the fleshy side of the pelts. This precaution had been taken by Marr and Whitehouse on the day following the raid.

Stirling paused near where the deck beams allowed a narrow pa.s.sage through to the lazaret, and under a hatchway which led to the galley house and the cook's quarters. He glanced around and allowed his eyes to accustom themselves to the darkness.

None of the revolutionists had dared follow him down through the main hatch. The sight of the revolver he had flashed at them was a stern reminder, and he felt of this weapon as he waited. He heard the steady clamp of the engines and the calls in Russian as the stokehold crew were urged to greater efforts.

The _Pole Star_ was striking away from Point Barrow, and had sheltered herself in a long lane of ice reaching deep within the North pack. It would be fortunate, indeed, if this lane opened and allowed the ship through to the sea to eastward.

Stirling found a box in the lazaret which had been crashed open by a rude heel, and through the hole in this he drew out a double handful of hard and dry ship's biscuits. He munched on these, and glanced about for water. None was in sight. He found several empty gin cases from which the square faces had been removed; a dark corner of the lazaret was piled with small, strong boxes. The lower tier of these contained bottles of ginger ale and soda. He emptied three bottles of soda, waited a few minutes, and then started drinking the fourth.

The effect was magical. The ship's biscuits, whose food value is high, served to refresh his weary body, and he stared around with some interest in his surroundings.

A stout door, heavily barred by a crossbeam in the bulkhead, indicated the way to the stokehold and the after part of the ship. He moved through the gloom and tested this crossbeam. It could be lifted, but he paused to listen. Clanking doors and sc.r.a.ping shovels on the iron plates of the stokehold marked where the Russians were feeding the _Pole Star's_ fires.

There was no way through to the cabin and the girl save by way of the stokehold and the engine room, and the deck was crowded with alert revolutionists.

Stirling dropped his hand into the side pocket of his pea-jacket and felt the cold a.s.surance of the little revolver's steel. It nerved him as he drew out his hand and lifted the crossbar which the cook had placed in order to prevent a raid on the lazaret.

An opening showed, lurid with furnace fires and hot coals. Three Russians, stripped to the waist, were lounging in one corner of the stokehold, and all were smoking cigarettes made from cut plug and tissue paper. Their attention was on a fourth Russian, who was watching the steam gauge above the central boiler.

Stirling widened the door by a steady pull with his fingers, and stared beyond the Russian to where an opening showed in the bulkhead. This opening marked the way to the engine room and the after part of the ship.

Bunker doors and slides showed to port and starboard, and the coal lay piled where the pa.s.sers had shovelled it. A Russian tossed away his cigarette, seized a scoop shovel, and stepped to the after door of the forward furnace. The glare which filled the stokehold as he opened the door gave Stirling an opportunity.

Risking all on the venture, he flung wide the bulkhead door which led from the lazaret and dashed across the scattered coal, reaching the opening to a spare bunker on the starboard side of the hold before he was discovered. Then a Russian shouted a warning, and the chief of the stokehold crew swung from the furnaces and stared through the half light.

Stirling brushed aside the lunging form of a revolutionist, and struck a second Russian a swinging blow beneath the ear. Plunging on, he gained the door which led to the engine room as a slice bar was hurled in his direction.

He wheeled at the door and braced himself. The Russian he had struck was slowly rising from the iron plate before the spare bunker, and a form swung from the reflection of light which streamed out of an ash box and lunged forward. Stirling called a warning as he bent, twisted, and worked his way through the bulkhead door until he reached the alleyway which led to the engine room.

Flashing crank shafts and the polished glow of metal blinded him. Men were on the gratings and halfway up the ladder which led to the deck companion. Stirling dodged around the first and second intermediate cylinders, rested a hand on the huge low-pressure cylinder; then he dropped to one knee, squirmed beneath the tail shaft, and started crawling down the shaft alley.

The Russians had been too startled to prevent this manuvre, but now they came aft with torches and pinch bars. The glow from the overhead sun which streamed through the deck light brought out the details of the shaft alley as far aft as the second coupling. Behind this was a narrow pit compressed on each side by heavy planking and sloping at the bottom into the fan-shaped overhang of the _Pole Star's_ stern.

Stirling worked his way aft to the thrust bearings, which were three in number. Here the pit was dark and damp, and he turned and glanced forward. The faint light which marked the outlines of the shaft alley grew stronger as he waited.

A burly form moved within the gloom, then another man joined the first Russian. Hammer blows sounded, and the light vanished as if a shade had been drawn. Stirling, with every sense alert, guessed the reason for the darkness. The revolutionists in the engine room had brought aft a number of sheets of boiler plate, and these they had erected about the tail shaft where it entered the engine room.

A grim smile creased Stirling's lips as he waited. The way now was barred by three-eighth-inch iron; he was a prisoner in the pit.

CHAPTER XXVIII-THE THIRD DOOR

A faint sound from above echoed throughout the alleyway, and Stirling turned his head, listening with every sense alert. The sound was repeated, then footfalls grated on the deck planks. The clank of the engines and the whirling shaft drowned out further steps in the cabin.

Stirling reached toward the thrust bearings, measured the distance, and thought deeply. He was directly beneath the alleyway which extended from the staterooms to the after companion-the girl and Slim, the Frisco dock rat, were above him.

He touched the planks, feeling the seams between the inch-thick decking.

He traced these seams and found that they ended in a coaming at each side of the shaft alley. These were secured to the deck beams by screws which in turn were covered by tree-nails. The barrier seemed impa.s.sable.

The throbbing of the screw, driven to its limit, had a lulling effect upon Stirling, who sank to his knees and crawled along the alleyway until his fingers touched a thrust block; sitting on this he dropped his head into his greasy hands and thought, his brain swirling in the maze of doubt and unreality.

He had no tool with which he could cut his way upward, and his problem was to get in communication with the girl so that a pa.s.sage could be bored through the deck planks.

The polished shaft at his side attracted his attention and he felt of it, counting the revolutions. They were slightly faster than the beat of his pulse. The power of a thousand horses was there in that rod of steel, and he wondered vaguely if there was any way to turn it to account.

The covers for the thrust blocks and shaft bearings were firmly bolted down. He groped about and searched every corner of the alleyway, finding an inch bolt and a battered oil can. These he placed by the thrust block and continued the search.

A faint light from the engine room illuminated the forward end of the shaft alley, and he crawled to this opening and peered through. The low-pressure cylinder and the engine frame prevented further scrutiny, but the shadows that moved across the gratings above the cylinder marked the presence of the revolutionists. One, perhaps, was on guard.

Stirling thrust his fingers through the plate which had been nailed to prevent his escape. Straining, he saw that he could move the lower section of iron sheeting. An object under the after bearing of the engine had attracted his attention-a long strip of leather belting coated with grease and oil.

He moved the plate, and waited; then he crawled halfway through the opening and secured the belt, Backing carefully, he worked his way aft to the thrust block.