Blue Envelope

by Roy J. Snell

  CHAPTER V

  CAST ADRIFT

  There was a shallow space beneath a tray of color-tubes in the verybottom of Marian's paint-box. There, on leaving Cape Prince of Wales,she had stowed the blue envelope addressed to Phi Beta Ki. She had notdone this without misgivings. Disturbing thoughts had come to her.Was it the right thing to do? Was it safe? The latter question hadcome to her with great force when she saw the grizzled miner's faceframed in the porthole of that schooner.

  But from the day they landed at Whaling, on the mainland of Siberia,all thoughts of the letter and the two claimants for its possessionwere completely crowded from her mind.

  Never in all her adventurous life had Marian experienced anything quiteso thrilling as this life with the Chukches of the Arctic coast ofSiberia.

  In Alaska the natives had had missionaries and teachers among them forthirty years. They had been Americanized and, in a sense,Christianized. The development of large mining centers to which theyjourneyed every summer to beg and barter had tended to rob them of theromantic wildness of their existence. But here, here where nomissionaries had been allowed nor teachers been sent, where goldgleamed still ungathered in the beds of the rivers, here the nativesstill dwelt in their dome-like houses of poles and skins. Here theyfared boldly forth in search of the dangerous walrus and white bear andthe monstrous whale. Here they made strange fire to the spirits of themonsters they had slaughtered, and spoke in grave tones of the greatspirit that had come down from the moon in the form of a raven with abeak of old ivory.

  It is little wonder that Marian forgot all thought of fear amid suchsurroundings, as she worked industriously at the sketches which were tofurnish her with three years of wonderful study under great masters.

  But one day, after six weeks of veritable dream life, as she lifted thetray to her paint-box her eyes fell on that blue envelope. Instantly aflood of remembrance rushed through her mind; the frank-faced collegeboy, the angry miner, old Rover, the dog, who, sleek and fat on whalemeat, lay curled up beside her, then again the grizzled face of theminer framed in a port-hole; all these passed before her mind's visionand left her chilled.

  Her hand trembled. She could not control her brush. The sketch of twonative women in deerskin unionsuits, their brown shoulders bared,working at the task of splitting walrus skins, went unfinished whileshe took a long walk down the beach.

  That very evening she had news that caused her blood to chill again. Anative had come from East Cape, the next village to the south. He hadseen a white man there, a full-bearded man of middle age. He had saidthat he intended coming to Whaling in a few days. He had posed amongthe natives as a spirit-doctor and had, according to reports, workedmany wonderful cures by his incantations. Three whales had come intothe hands of the East Cape hunters. This was an excellent catch andhad been taken as a good omen; the bearded stranger was doubtlesshighly favored by the spirits of dead whales.

  "I wish our skin-boat would come for us," said Lucile suddenly, as theytalked of it in the privacy of their tent.

  "But it won't, not for three weeks yet. That was the agreement."

  "I know."

  "And we haven't a wireless to call them with. Besides, my sketches arenot nearly complete."

  "I know," said Lucile, her chin in her hands. "But, all the same, thatman makes me afraid."

  "Well, I'll hurry my sketches, but that won't bring the boat anysooner."

  Had Marian known the time she would have for sketching, she might nothave done them so rapidly. As it was, she worked the whole longeighteen-hour days through.

  In the meantime, chill winds began sweeping down from the north. Stillthe bearded white man did not come to Whaling, but every day broughtfresh reports of the good fortune of the people of East Cape. They hadcaptured a fourth whale, then a fifth. Their food for the winter wassecured. Whale meat was excellent food. They would have an abundanceof whale-bone to trade for flour, sugar and tea.

  But if the East Capers were favored, the men of Whaling were not. Onelone whale, and that a small one, was their total take. Witch-doctorsbegan declaring that the presence of strange, white-faced women intheir midst was displeasing to the spirits of dead whales. The makingof the images of the people on canvas was also sure to bring disaster.

  As reports of this dissatisfaction came to the ears of the girls, theybegan straining their eyes for a square sail on the horizon. Stilltheir boat did not come.

  Then came the crowning disaster of the year. The walrus herd, on whichthe natives based their last hope, passed south along the coast ofAlaska instead of Siberia. Their caches were left empty. Only thewinter's supply of white bear and seal could save them from starvation.

  "Dezra! Dezra!" (It is enough!) the natives whispered among themselves.

  The day after the return of the walrus canoes Marian and Lucile wentfor a long walk down the beach.

  Upon rounding a point in returning Marian suddenly gave a gasp. "Look,Lucile! It's gone--our tent!"

  "Gone!" exclaimed Lucile unbelievingly.

  "I wonder what--"

  "Look, Marian; the whole village!"

  "Let's run."

  "Where to? We'd starve in two days, or freeze. Come on. They won'thurt us."

  With anxious hearts and trembling footsteps they approached the solidline of fur-clad figures which stretched along the southern outskirtsof the village.

  As they came close they heard one word repeated over and over: "Dezra!Dezra!" (Enough! Enough!)

  And as the natives almost chanted this single word, they pointed to asled on which the girls' belongings had been neatly packed. To thesled three dogs were hitched, two young wolf-hounds with Rover asleader.

  "They want us to go," whispered Lucile.

  "Yes, and where shall we go?"

  "East Cape is the only place."

  "And that miner?"

  "It may not be he."

  Three times Marian tried to press her way through the line. Each timethe line grew more dense at the point she approached. Not a hand waslaid upon her; she could not go through, that was all. The situationthrilled as much as it troubled her. Here was a people kind at heartbut superstitious. They believed that their very existence dependedupon getting these two strangers from their midst. What was there todo but go?

  They went, and all through the night they assisted the little dog-teamto drag the heavy load over the first thin snow of autumn. Over andover again Marian blessed the day she had been kind to old Roverbecause he was a white man's dog, for he was the pluckiest puller ofthem all.

  Just as dawn streaked the east they came in sight of what appeared tobe a rude shack built of boards. As they came closer they could seethat some of the boards had been painted and some had not. Some werepainted halfway across, and some only in patches of a foot or two.They had been hastily thrown together. The whole effect, viewed at adistance, resembled nothing so much as a crazy-quilt.

  "Must have been built from the wreckage of a house," said Lucile.

  "Yes, or a boat."

  "A boat? Yes, look; there it is out there, quite a large one. It'sstranded on the sandbar and half broken up."

  The girls paused in consternation. It seemed they were hedged in onall sides by perils. To go back was impossible. To go forward was tothrow themselves upon the mercies of a gang of rough seamen. To passaround the cabin was only to face the bearded stranger, who, they hadreason to believe, was none other than the man who had demanded theblue envelope.

  A few minutes' debate brought them to a decision. They would gostraight on to the cabin.

  "Mush, Rover! Mush!" Marian threw her tired shoulders into theimprovised harness, and once more they moved slowly forward.

  It was with wildly beating hearts that they eventually rounded thecorner of the cabin and came to a stand by the door. At once anexclamation escaped their lips:

  "Empty! Deserted!"

  And so it proved. Snow that had fallen two days before la
y piledwithin the half-open doorway. No sign of occupation was to be foundwithin save a great rusty galley range, two rickety chairs, animprovised table, two rusty kettles and a huge frying-pan.

  "They have given the ship up as a total loss, and have left in doriesor skin-boats," said Marian.

  "Yes," agreed Lucile. "Wanted to get across the Straits before thecoming of the White Line."

  The "coming of the White Line." Marian started. She knew what thatmeant far better than Lucile did. She had lived in Alaska longer, hadseen it oftener. Now she thought what it would mean to them if it camebefore the skin-boat came for them. And that skin-boat? What wouldhappen when it came to Whaling? Would the Chukches tell them in whichdirection they had gone? And if they did, would the Eskimo boatmen settheir sail and go directly to East Cape? If they did, would they missthis diminutive cabin standing back as it did from the shore, andseeming but a part of the sandbar?

  "We'll put up a white flag, a skirt or something, on the peak of thecabin," she said, half talking to herself.

  "Do you think we ought to go right on to East Cape?" said Lucile.

  "We can't decide that now," said Marian. "We need food and sleep andthe dogs need rest."

  Some broken pieces of drift were piled outside the cabin. These made aready fire. They were soon enjoying a feast of fried fish and cannedbaked beans. Then, with their water-soaked mucklucks (skin-boots) andstockings hanging by the fire, they threw deerskin on the rude bunkattached to the wall and were soon fast asleep.

  Out on the wreck, some two hundred yards from shore, a figure emergedfrom a small cabin aft. The stern of the ship had been carriedcompletely about by the violence of the waves. It had left this littlecabin, formerly the wireless cabin, high and dry.

  The person came out upon the deck and scanned the horizon. Suddenlyhis eyes fell upon the cabin and the strange white signal which thegirls had set fluttering there before they went to sleep.

  Sliding a native skin-kiak down from the deck, he launched it, thenleaping into the narrow seat, began paddling rapidly toward land.

  Having beached his kiak, he hurried toward the cabin. His hand was onthe latch, when he chanced to glance up at the white emblem of distresswhich floated over his head.

  His hand dropped to his side; his mouth flew open. An expression ofamazement spread over his face.

  "Jumpin' Jupiter!" he muttered beneath his breath.

  He beat a hasty retreat. Once in his kiak he made double time back tothe wreck.

  Marian was the first to awaken in the cabin. By the dull light thatshone through the cracks, she could tell that it was growing dark.

  Springing from her bunk, she put her hand to the latch. Hardly had shedone this than the door flew open with a force that threw her backagainst the opposite wall. Fine particles of snow cut her face. Thewind set every loose thing in the cabin bobbing and fluttering. Theskirt they had attached to a stout pole as a signal was boomingoverhead like a gun.

  "Wow! A blizzard!" she groaned.

  Seizing the door, she attempted to close it.

  Twice the violence of the storm threw her back.

  When at last her efforts had been rewarded with success, she turned torouse her companion.

  "Lucile! Lucile! Wake up? A blizzard!"

  Lucile turned over and groaned. Then she opened her eyes.

  "Wha--wha--" she droned sleepily.

  "A blizzard! A blizzard from the north!"

  Lucile sat up quickly.

  "From the north!" she exclaimed, fully awake in an instant. "The ice?"

  "Perhaps."

  "And if it comes?"

  "We're stuck, that's all, in Siberia for nine months. Won't dare tryto cross the Straits on the ice. No white man has ever done it, letalone a woman. Well," she smiled, "we've got food for five days, andfive days is a long time. We'd better try to bring in some wood, andget the dogs in here; they'd freeze out there."