CHAPTER XV
STEALTHY AS SHADOWS
STEALTHY AS SHADOWS
STEALTHY AS SHADOWS
As the morning wore on, Bobby realized that his fear of discovery by Captain Garrish was unfounded. The man continued to watch the boys closely, but if he had known of that secret meeting between him and Fred, the captain would have done more than watch—of that Bobby was certain.
This certainty once more served to raise Bobby’s spirits and made him hope that they might succeed in outwitting the grim old skipper after all.
He watched Fred and saw that the lad was doing his best to live up to the promise he had given the night before. Several times, beneath the gibe of a sailor or a sharp command from the captain, Fred’s face turned the color of a beet and he opened his mouth to speak. But he closed it again with a sharp click that showed he remembered his promise just in the nick of time.
Every time this happened, Bobby felt like clapping his hands. It was a great thing for Fred to do, he knew, and he was more than ever thankful for that brief talk the night before.
Once, out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fred mumble something to Mouser, sidling up to him cautiously in the course of his work, and he saw Mouser’s quick glance of surprise and interest.
“Good old Fred,” thought Bobby. “He’s wasting no time in passing on the good word. Now, if we can only manage in some way to put Billy wise, all may be well. Just a few meetings of the four of us at that secret rendezvous, and we ought to be able to think up some plan of action.”
But how to pass the word on to Billy—that was the question. How to do it when Captain Garrish kept an eye on him, Bobby, almost every minute that he was on deck?
And when the captain himself was not on deck, there was always his faithful henchman, Rogers, the second mate, to take over the task of watching him.
“They seem to pick on me especially,” thought Bobby gloomily, after his third attempt to speak to Billy had met with no success. In fact, this last effort had been almost disastrous, for Mr. Rogers, the second mate, had very nearly caught him in the act.
“I don’t know why they should think I need special watching,” Bobby went on with his thoughts. “I certainly haven’t given them any trouble yet. Not yet!” he added, with a sudden gleam in his eye. “But soon!”
It would have to be soon, he reflected, as he gazed out over the great waste of waters. The ocean had begun to take on a glassy look; here and there a block of half-formed ice slithered sluggishly past them.
Bobby had read enough about the Frozen North, that great stretch of forbidding country, to know that, even if they did escape into it, they might be marooned in its ice-covered wastes indefinitely. It might be months before they could return to their own country. And meantime their folks would perhaps mourn them as dead.
Lashed on by the harsh voice of Mr. Rogers, Bobby once more fell to work at his uncongenial tasks.
On the last watch that afternoon when he had just about given up hope of getting a word with Billy, Bobby’s chance came suddenly and unexpectedly.
He found himself close to Billy and a quick glance about the deck showed him that at that moment neither the captain nor Mr. Rogers was on deck.
He leaned over and whispered, his voice hoarse with excitement and triumph!
“Twelve o’clock, stern, port,” and Billy flashed him a swift look that showed that he understood. He would have spoken too, but Bobby raised his hand in a gesture of warning.
“The captain,” he whispered, and then proceeded to put as much of the deck between him and Billy as he could before the captain’s grim gaze fastened on him again.
“Well, it’s done,” thought Bobby. “The four of us will meet to-night for a council of war, even though it be the last one we’ll ever have.”
They must take a chance of discovery. They had come to a point where desperate measures were necessary if they were to escape at all. They could never hope to get anywhere unless they took a chance.
If they could only escape that night! Bobby’s face tingled with the hot blood that rushed to it at the very thought. That night! But how?
There were the longboats. They might manage—the four of them—to get one free, lower it into the blackness of the night to the restless ocean. That they might do. But what then?
They had not the slightest idea where they were. They had no compass, nothing to guide them. And if they had had such an instrument, they would not know whether to head north, south, east or west, for they had no knowledge of the direction in which lay the nearest land.
And there was the problem of provisions and warmth. They must eat and keep warm. They could not set themselves adrift in an unprovisioned boat without suitable clothing and expect to live.
They might be picked up by some northern-bound steamer, that is true, but in this latitude and longitude such ships were rare. They could not afford to trust to luck.
But all during the endless hours Bobby could not drive the thought of the longboat from his mind. If they could provision it, find out in some way the location of the nearest shore. But how—how?
And then suddenly the answer was given him in a way that he could never have anticipated.
There were two Eskimos among the ship’s crew, and although at first the boys had studied them with natural curiosity, they had soon become accustomed to these black-haired, black-eyed, round-faced people of the North.
They were silent men and seldom joined in the wild songs and capering of the white men of the crew, but their silence was not morose. They seemed even friendly in a queer way, and Bobby had thought more than once that he had surprised in their dull, emotionless stare a look of real interest and sympathy.
This evening as, worn out by the hours of hard toil he had put in, Bobby was making his way slowly along the spray-washed deck, he was not altogether surprised to hear himself addressed by one of the Eskimos.
The man spoke guardedly and it was the tone he used, more than what he said, that startled Bobby.
“Come with me,” said the guttural voice close to his ear. “I have a message for you.”
In that minute Bobby did some rapid thinking. What if this man were leading him into some sort of a trap? Nothing, however, could be much worse than the present state of affairs. And it was barely possible that the man was friendly—that he would tell him something to his advantage—perhaps help him to escape.
He nodded and, turning, followed the man down the steep steps of the companionway.
To his surprise, he was not led aft to the quarters of the men, but forward in the general direction of the captain’s quarters.
Was it a trap, after all, then? He still had time to turn, to get out of it. But where could he go on this ship, he thought, where the captain could not find him and do what he would with him?
All this time they had been making their way swiftly forward, the Eskimo moving with surprising swiftness, considering his girth.
Once they heard steps coming toward them, and with a guttural exclamation the Eskimo motioned Bobby into the shadow of a doorway. There they both waited till the man went by.
The latter was tall and grizzled and there was a scowl on his face as though he were engrossed in none-too-pleasant thought. He passed so near that Bobby, by reaching out his hand, might have touched him. With an audible intake of breath, Bobby recognized the captain.
So his errand was not with the captain, after all.
More puzzled than ever and beginning to feel a tremendous excitement, he left his hiding place and once more followed the Eskimo.
They came to a door which the Eskimo opened without knocking, and the latter motioned Bobby into the room. It was a cabin, and rather a spacious one at that, possessed of all the necessary furnishings.
But only one article of furniture caught Bobby’s eye, and that was the bed. On the bed reposed a form that lay so still that Bobby at first thought it was dead. The next moment he saw that he was mistaken.
The Eskimo, going swiftly over to the bed, muttered something and the quiet figure moved suddenly, struggling to a sitting posture. The Eskimo put a hand beneath his shoulders, supporting him.
“Come here,” said the man in the bed to Bobby, and then, and only then, did Bobby recognize the Eskimo chief, Takyak.
As the lad obeyed the summons he was shocked at the change in the man. He was gray and emaciated and the hand he held out to Bobby shook.
“What’s the matter? What’s happened?” cried Bobby. “You look sick, Chief Takyak.”
Takyak nodded simply.
“I am dying,” he said.