The Ice Pilot Part 31

The girl pointed at the port side of the ship, and Stirling shook his head. "That's west now," he said. "It's magnetic west. You see the directions are all changed. We're heading north by the compa.s.s. If he changes to the west it means that he is going to try and clear Banks Land. That'll lead us to Melville Sound. It may be open."

Helen Marr lifted her chin and beamed into Stirling's face. "There's sunshine on the ice," she said, pointing out through a starboard porthole. "See it? You should smile. I don't think we are in any danger."

Stirling caught the contagion of youth and high spirits. The season was so remarkable that he doubted his own senses, for the _Pole Star_ was steaming at twelve knots through waters which were usually closed to all save the lucky ships in the whaling service. The progress from Point Barrow had been continuous. They had gone farther east than most Arctic expeditions, and the way north was clear save for small ice floes. It might be possible to reach Melville Sound and unknown straits leading to Baffin Bay.

The Ice Pilot bent his head and thought deeply, but the ship suddenly swerved, and he straightened. The sunshine now streamed through the after starboard portholes of the cabin, striking across the racks of the table and bringing out the details of the bookshelves and piano.

Helen Marr clapped her hands, ran to the porthole nearest the after bulkhead, and peered out, then turned with eyes of flame. "See," she said, "we're going north now-or west. There's open water and an open sea. Oh, I'm glad of it!"

Her slight body flitted to the piano. She drew down the cover and pulled out a stool. The music she played was familiar to Stirling:

"Whither, oh, splendid ship, thy white sails crowding, Leaning across the bosom of the urgent West, Thou fearest nor sea rising, nor sky clouding, Whither away fair rover, and what thy quest?"

The girl turned on the revolving stool and glanced toward Stirling. "How do you like that?" she asked, blithely. "Do you want more?"

Stirling smiled and nodded, and her fingers strayed over the ivory keys for a moment. The song she sang was new to Stirling, but as he listened, he heard above the silver-running notes another sound. Steps came overhead; a shadow blotted out the gla.s.s of the deck light. The Russian leader had been attracted by the music, and he was joined by one of the revolutionists. The two Russians stood in rapt attention as Helen Marr sang to her own accompaniment:

"The fair wind blew, the white foam flew, The furrow followed free; And we were the first that ever burst Into that silent sea."

The girl turned. "That's from the 'Ancient Mariner,'" she said. "I set it to music. I think it's appropriate, don't you, Mr. Stirling?"

"The silent sea part is," he said. "I shouldn't wonder if you sang the truth. Even the leader was interested. I wonder if he understands English?"

The two in the cabin stared up at the shadows on the deck light, and these shadows moved away as the girl rose from the piano stool and came across the deck.

"You had better go into the stateroom and get some sleep, Mr. Stirling,"

she suggested. "You look tired and worn. Sleep would do you a world of good. I'll stand guard."

Stirling climbed the companion steps and tested the barricade of oak timbers which Marr and Slim had fitted, then came down and went forward to the curtain. A second doorway, which was at the end of the alley, had been nailed shut with three-inch spikes, and there seemed no way for the revolutionists to break into the after part of the ship.

He moved the table over the hole he had cut in the deck, and upon this piled stools and a bookcase for a barricade.

"Let me know if anything happens," Stirling said, as he stepped toward Marr's stateroom. "Be sure and do that!"

The girl lifted the rifle and stood at attention. "Good-night!" she said. "Shut the door; I'll wake you if it's necessary."

CHAPTER x.x.xI-DANGER AND DOUBT

When Stirling awoke it seemed to him that he had pa.s.sed through an ocean of dreams. He rolled over and blinked through leaden eyes at the porthole. Dawn was breaking across a wild waste of Northern waters; ice floes and ancient packs floated by; seals sported; whale slick showed in oily patches, and the sun glanced over the smooth surface of the sea. A ripple showed where the _Pole Star's_ sharp stem was cleaving the surface.

Stirling rubbed his eyes and listened. The steady clank of the engines and the vibration of the tail shaft beneath him still continued. He glanced upward. The tiny, telltale compa.s.s overhead was pointing west.

The ship was headed for the true pole!

"Madmen!" said Stirling, springing out of the bunk.

He emerged into the larger cabin to find that Helen Marr had vanished.

The rifle lay across the table, and her knitted tam-o'-shanter was hanging from one corner of the piano; the deck light had been thrown open, and the companionway was unbarred.

Stirling strode through the curtain and tested the door which led to the sailor's cabin. It was locked. A bitter protest in Frisco slang greeted his query. He hesitated. The girl had eluded him in some manner. She had gone on deck.

He crossed the alleyway, c.o.c.ked the rifle, and burst into the larger cabin. Up the steps which led to the companion he climbed with savage strength, and the light of dawning day and the gust of salty air which filled his lungs cleared his brain. He stared about the quarter-deck, then dropped the rifle's b.u.t.t down upon his boot.

The girl, bareheaded and with ribbons flying, was sitting in a deck chair; near by were the Russian leader and two other revolutionists.

They turned as she laughed buoyantly, but the leader frowned and reached for his pocket. Stirling raised the rifle and swung it under his arm.

"Good morning, Mr. Stirling," called the girl. "Come aft with me. These poor men are not our enemies. They're lost and want a pilot."

Stirling lowered the muzzle of the rifle, but still eyed the leader, and his lips grew hard and level with suspicion. He raised his shoulders slightly.

The girl saw the motion and sprang out of the deck chair with a cry.

"They're only big boys!" she exclaimed. "I was playing the piano and singing-while you were sleeping. One song they liked, and the leader knocked on the gla.s.s and called to me. There were tears in his eyes.

He's escaped from Siberia and wants to get to America. They all have escaped, Mr. Stirling. They wouldn't harm anybody!"

Stirling remembered the carnage when the revolutionists took the ship.

But perhaps they had thought that the _Pole Star's_ crew would resist and therefore had antic.i.p.ated an expected attack. And they seemed to have treated the girl with the attention due a princess. A cushion was at the foot of the deck chair; tea steamed in a kettle; crackers had been brought from the galley.

"I think you had better go below," said Stirling glancing at the girl's upturned face.

"Speak to them; they don't mean us any harm."

Stirling turned toward the leader, and the small eyes before him lightened where they had been filled with fear. A gross, hairy hand swept forward expressively.

"You don't know where you are?" asked Stirling, gesturing.

The man, apparently getting the sense of the Ice Pilot's question, shook his head.

"Do you want to go back?" Stirling pointed the rifle toward the jack staff and the stern of the ship.

The leader repeated his nod, then spoke to the two others, who, Stirling decided, also held office among the revolutionists. They lumbered to the rail and stared forward, raising their arms and pointing.

Stirling shaded his eyes from the rays of the sun which was swinging on a long slant over the sea, and saw ahead, and to starboard, the glint of horizon-down ice. He knew the reason-they were within thirty miles of Banks Land.

The sea was open to the magnetic west, where a hard line rimmed the surface. Gulls flew overhead, and the smoke of the furnaces blotted across the waters. The entire scene was one of desperate enterprise.

They were steaming on an unknown ocean of danger and doubt, where no explorers had been able to penetrate. Only an open season, such as Stirling had never known before, permitted the _Pole Star's_ progress.

With a mastering glance, he turned toward the leader, his head back, the cords of his neck showing like roots of some giant oak. Helen Marr seized his left hand and crept close up to him.

"I'll pilot this ship!" he said.

"Where?" asked Helen Marr.

"Through the Northeast Pa.s.sage!"