CHAPTER TWO
_WRECK_
Shorn of her power, the _Holter_ still followed her helmsman's course.But it became a listless, sluggish course. The ship was like a suddenlyfreed slave that does not know what to do with his own freedom.
For six years she had plodded Lake Michigan, always with the biggestpossible paying load and always working at top speed. Many times she hadgroaned and protested, but she had been forced to obey the dictates ofthe engine that turned her side wheel. Now the engine, the tyrant, wasdead from misuse of its own power. But without it the _Holter_ hadneither mind nor will of her own.
She smashed head-on into a mountainous wave that set her decks awash.For another moment or two she held her course, carried by her ownmomentum. Then, slowly and unwillingly, as though afraid to do such athing and not trusting herself to do it, she swung broadside to thewaves.
A muffled shout floated out of the engine room. Fat little CaptainSchultz, a slicker covering his round body and anxiety written on hisface, was peering down an opened hatch. Sluicing rain pelted the slickerand bounded off. Ramsay's eyes found the deck hand.
Eyes wide and mouth agape, he was standing near the wheelhouse. Nakedterror was written on his face as he stared at something out in thelake. Ramsay followed his gaze.
To the starboard, the right side of the _Holter_, the lake seemedstrangely calm. It was as though the wind and the storm did not strikewith outrageous strength there, and oddly as if that part of the watermight be commanded by some inexplicable force. Unable to tear his gazeaway, expecting to see something special, Ramsay kept his eyes rivetedon the calm water.
He saw a ripple, but not one born of storm and wind. There was somethinghere that had nothing to do with the driving wind, or the cold rain, oreven the tremendous waves. The deck hand covered his eyes with his hand.
At that instant, a great white apparition swam up through the water. Itwas a ghost, a creature of nightmares, a terrible thing seen only interror-ridden moments. Ramsay controlled an impulse to shout or to flee.The thing came up to within inches of the surface and wallowed therelike a greasy fat hog. Whitish-gray, rather than pure white, it flippedan enormous tail while it sported near the surface.
The thing, a fish, seemed fully nine feet long and possibly it carried ahundred pounds of weight for every foot. It bore no scales but seemed tobe clothed in an overlapping series of armored plates. Its snout,pointed somewhat like a pig's, was tipped with barbels, or feelers. Dulleyes showed.
Again Ramsay controlled his fear. The thing, sober judgment told him,was nothing more or less than a great sturgeon, the mightiest fish ofthese inland waters. The fact that it was white, rather than theconventional gray-green or olive-green, was of no significance whatever.All living creatures, from elephants down to mice, occasionally producedan albino. It was not beyond reason that there could be an albinosturgeon.
Ramsay watched while it swam, and some semblance of cool controlreturned to his fevered imagination. This was no grotesque monster fromanother world. Telling himself again that it was nothing more or lessthan an unusual fish, he watched it sink back into the churning depthsfrom which it had arisen. He put a shaking hand on the _Holter's_ rail.
It was a fish and nothing else. None but superstitious people believedin superstition. Then the deck hand's terrified shriek rose above thekeening wind.
"It's him! We seen it! The White Sturgeon! _Gar-hhh!_"
Mouth agape, the deck hand kept his eyes on that place where the WhiteSturgeon had disappeared. A great wave washed across the deck, and whenit rolled away the deck hand was no longer visible. Ramsay shook hishead to clear it and looked again at the place where the deck hand hadbeen standing. Lake Michigan could swallow a man even easier than a pondswallowed a pebble, for there had not been even a ripple to mark theplace where the deck hand had disappeared. There was not the slightestpossibility of rescuing him. The deck hand had seen the White Sturgeon!
A battering ram of a wave crashed into the _Holter's_ starboard side,and Ramsay felt a cold chill travel up and down his spine. Fear laid itsicy fingers there, but he shook them off. The fact that the water hadbeen calm when the White Sturgeon made its appearance and was angry nowhad nothing whatever to do with the fish. Rather, the calm water couldbe attributed to some quirk, some phenomenon inherent in the stormitself. Probably the White Sturgeon appeared because, for the moment,the lake had been calm. Knowing that, the big fish had nosed its way tothe surface. Now that the lake was again storm-deviled, the WhiteSturgeon was gone.
Bracing himself against the wind, Ramsay made his way across the deck tothe wheelhouse. He shivered, for the first time aware of the fact thathis clothing was rain-drenched and that he was very cold. It was apenetrating, creeping cold that reached the inmost marrow of his bones.When another wave smashed the _Holter_, Ramsay caught hold of the littlehorse's cage to steady himself. Within the enclosure, nervous but stillnot terrified, the black horse looked hopefully at him.
Ramsay reached the wheelhouse, and came face to face with CaptainSchultz. The little captain's slicker had blown open, so that now it wasof no use whatever in warding off the rain, but he had not seen fit toclose it again. It would do him no good if he did; his clothing wasalready soaked.
Ramsay shouted to make himself heard above the roar of the wind. "Whathappened?"
"The enchin, she kaput. Like that, she kaput."
Ramsay revised his opinions of the little Captain. At the pier, CaptainSchultz had been only a fat, fussy little man. Facing this direpredicament, he was not terrified and had not given way to panic. He hadrisen to the emergency. Maybe, Ramsay thought, anyone who sailed LakeMichigan had to be able to rise to any emergency if he would continueto sail. He shouted again, "Will the ship sink?"
"Ach, I don't know! If we can't get the enchin to go, she might."
"What do we do then?"
"Find somet'ing. Find anyt'ing, poy, an' swim. Be sure you findsomet'ing that does not sink mit you."
"How far are we from land?"
"Ach! That I cannot tell you."
"Did you see the White Sturgeon?"
"Yaah. We still try."
Captain Schultz went all the way into the wheelhouse and disappearedinto the hold. Dimly, out of the open hatchway, came the sound ofringing hammers. There was a desperate tone in them, as though the menworking in the _Holter's_ hold were fully aware of the grave danger theyfaced. On sudden impulse Ramsay ducked into the wheelhouse and descendedinto the engine-room.
Captain Schultz held an oil lamp to illumine the labors of two men whom,so far, Ramsay had not seen. Presumably they were the _Holter's_engineer and fireman. Another deck hand and the mate stood by, passingtools requested by the workers.
Down here, in the bowels of the _Holter_, the storm seemed a faraway andalmost an unreal thing. The howling wind was heard faintly, and if theship had not been tossing so violently, they might have been in thepower-room of any industrial plant.
The sweating engineer, his face grease-streaked, turned from his laborsto face Ramsay. He spoke with a nasal New England twang. "Was thatWhite Sturgeon really off the ship?"
"I--I didn't see anything," Ramsay answered.
Captain Schultz flashed him a grateful smile. The workers went on withtheir toils.
Obviously, among Lake Michigan sailors, or anyhow some of them, therewas a firm belief in the evil powers of the White Sturgeon. Ramsaylooked again at the little Captain's face.
It was a concerned, worried face, what one might expect to see in a manwho was in danger of losing his ship. At the same time, and even thoughCaptain Schultz remained completely in command, there was about him acertain air that had nothing to do with getting the _Holter's_ engineworking again. Ramsay sought for the answer, and finally he found it. Astrong man in his own right, Captain Schultz had seen the White Sturgeonand he believed in it.
Ramsay climbed the narrow ladder-way leading back to the deck. The_Holter_ was strong, he assured himself. There was little danger that itcould
be pounded to pieces by any sea. Then he looked at the wild andangry lake and knew the fallacy of his reasoning.
The _Holter_ was strong, but the lake was stronger. Waves, the color ofsteel and with the strength of steel, smashed into the ship and made hershiver. Ramsay heard a shrieking protest as some plank or stay beneaththe deck tore loose.
The _Holter_ shuddered, like a big horse in pain, and settled so low inthe water that waves washed continuously across her deck. There wasanother shriek, and she settled deeper into the lake. She was a verysluggish craft now, with no control or direction, and Ramsay guessedthat the hides in the hold were getting soaked. The ship's nose dippedto meet a wave, and it did not come up again.
The imprisoned horse bugled his fright. Captain Schultz, the engineer,the fireman and the deck hand appeared on deck. There was no sign of themate; perhaps he had already gone over. The engineer and the firemanstruggled under the weight of a crude raft which they had knockedtogether from such timbers as were available. Ramsay looked uncertainlytoward them, and the engineer glared back.
"Get your own!" he snarled. "Me an' Pete made this, an' me an' Pete aregoin' to use it!"
They carried their makeshift raft to the settling nose of the ship, laidit down, mounted it, and let the next wave carry them off. Ramsay felt aturning nausea in the pit of his stomach. As the raft went over therail, the man called Pete was swept from it. Only the engineer stayedon, clinging desperately as he was washed out into the angry lake. In asecond or two he had disappeared.
Captain Schultz rolled frightened eyes and said to Ramsay, "Get a door,or hatch cover, an' ride that."
Suiting his actions to his words, Captain Schultz seized a fire axe thatwas hanging near and pounded the wheelhouse door from its hinges. Hedragged the door to the rail, threw it into the lake, and jumped afterit. The deck hand wrestled with a hatch cover, finally pried it loose,and rode that away.
Ramsay was left alone on the sinking _Holter_. He tried to keep a clearhead, but he could not help an overwhelming fear. This was nothing hehad ever faced before and now, facing it, he did not know what to do.Finding anything that would float and riding it away seemed to be theanswer. Then the little horse bugled and he knew that he was not alone.
Water crept around his feet as he made his way across the deck to thecage. He put his hand on the bar, and as soon as he did that the littlehorse thrust a soft, warm nose against it. He muzzled Ramsay's hand withalmost violent intensity. All his life he had depended upon men foreverything. Now, in this peril, men would not desert him.
Softly Ramsay stroked the soft muzzle, but only for a second. The_Holter_ was going down fast. Soon, as the gloomy deck hand hadforecast, she would be on the bottom of Lake Michigan. There was no timeto lose. Ramsay unlatched the door of the cage, opened it, and when hedid that the horse walked out.
He stayed very near to the boy, fearing to leave, and once or twicebumped Ramsay with his shoulder. Ramsay studied the angry lake, andlooked back at the horse. Again he glanced out on the stormy water.There was nothing else in sight. Those who, by one way or another, hopedto reach shore were already lost in swirling sheets of rain. Ramsay bithis lower lip so hard that he drew blood.
The men had either jumped, or else had merely ridden over the rail on awave that set the decks awash, but the horse could not do that. Therewas real danger of his breaking a leg, or becoming otherwise injured, ifhe tried. Ramsay turned and caught up the axe with which Captain Schultzhad stricken down the door.
The black horse crowded with him, afraid to be alone, and the boy had togo around him to get back to the rail. The horse pushed close to himagain and Ramsay spoke soothingly, "Easy. Take it easy now."
He raised the axe and swung it, and felt its blade bite deeply into thewooden rail. He swung again and again, until he had slashed through it,then moved ten feet to one side, toward the rail's supporting post, andcut it there. The severed section was whisked into the wave-tormentedlake as a match stick disappears in a whirlpool. Ramsay threw the axeback onto the _Holter's_ sinking deck and stepped aside.
Get something that would float, Captain Schultz had said, and be surethat it would keep him above water. But suddenly he could think ofnothing that would float. Wildly he cast about for a hatch cover or adoor. There was not one to be seen.
The _Holter_ made a sudden list that carried her starboard deck beneaththe lake. A wave surged across her. Even the little horse had unsteadylegs. Ramsay tried hard to overcome the terror within him.
Then, together, he and the little horse were in the lake. He threw wildarms about the animal's neck, and a huge wave overwhelmed them. Gasping,he arose.
The lake was wilder and fiercer and colder than he had thought it couldbe. Every nerve and muscle in his body seemed chilled, so that he wasbarely able to move. Another wave washed in, over both the little blackhorse and himself, and for a moment they were deep beneath the churningwaters. They broke onto the surface, Ramsay with both hands entwined inthe horse's mane, and the horse turned to look at him.
There was uncertainty in the animal's eyes, and fright, but no terror.The little horse knew his own power, and the fact that a human beingstayed with him gave him confidence in that strength.
Ramsay spoke reassuringly. "We're all right. We'll do all right, Black.Let's get out of it."
The words were a tonic, the inspiration the horse needed. The next timea wave rolled in, he did not try to fight it. Rather, he rose with it,swimming strongly. He had adjusted himself to many situations, now hemet this one without panic. An intelligent beast, he had long agolearned that every crisis must be met with intelligence.
Ramsay stayed easily beside him, keeping just enough weight on theswimming animal to hold his own head above water and doing nothing thatwould interfere with the furious fight the horse was waging to keep fromdrowning.
The lake was indeed cold, colder than any other water the boy had everknown, and he had to exercise every particle of his mind and will justto cling to the horse. The wind blew furiously, and sluicing rain poureddown. Then the rain dwindled away and heavy mist settled in. Ramsay knewa moment's panic.
It was impossible to see more than a few feet or to tell which way theshore lay. The lake was huge, and should they be heading towards theMichigan shore, they would never get there. Ramsay tried to remember allhe had ever known of wind and drift and currents on Lake Michigan, anddiscovered that he could remember nothing. Any direction at all could benorth and he was unable to orient himself, but he controlled the risingpanic. It would do no good at all to lose his head.
The wind seemed to be dying, and the waves lessening. Ramsay kept hishold on the little horse's mane. He saw a floating object pass and triedto catch it, but when he did so he almost lost his hold on the horse.Kicking hard to catch up, he twined both hands in the horse's mane andtightened them there.
Then he felt a rebirth of confidence. Already they had been in the lakefor a long, long time and he had been able to hold his own. It wasimpossible to get much colder, or more numb, than he already was and hecould still hang on. Besides, the horse seemed to know where he wasgoing.
He swam strongly, and apparently he was swimming straight. At any rate,there was no evidence that he was traveling in circles or choosing anerratic course. Ramsay had been told that animals have an instinctcompared to which the most sensitive human's is coarse and blunted andmaybe that was true. Maybe the horse did know where it was going.
Now that the waves were not rising so high, the horse swam faster. Thewind died almost completely, so that the lake's surface was merelyruffled, and Ramsay felt a mounting confidence in his ability to livethrough this. In the overcast a gull cried, and things had started goingwrong with the _Holter_ when the gulls left it. Now they were back.Probably they, too, had known of the approaching storm and had flown tosafety off the lake.
The swimmers broke out of the mist and Ramsay saw the beach.
It was about a hundred yards away, a sand beach behind which a rockycliff rose. This wore a cr
est of evergreens, and its face was spottedhere and there with smaller trees. A cloud of white gulls screamed intothe air as Ramsay and the horse approached.
They reached the shallows, and the little horse's back emerged from thewater like that of some suddenly appearing sea monster. Ramsay let gohis hold on the animal's mane and swam. Then, coming to waist-high waterin which he could wade, he splashed toward the beach.
The wind had died, but waves still pounded the beach and it was verycold. The near borders of this wild lake, Ramsay decided, probably neverwarmed up. With an immense body of cold water lapping them, they wereperpetually chilled.
While the little horse looked gravely on, Ramsay stripped his clothingoff, wrung it out, and put the wet garments back on. The horse crowdedvery close, as though he were afraid to go away. He nibbled Ramsay withhis lips. As soon as the boy moved, he moved with him.
He stayed very near as Ramsay walked up the beach, a stretch ofdriftwood-spotted sand that varied from sixty to two hundred feet inwidth and reached clear back to the rising bluff. A belt of wet sandshowed where the lake had crawled up onto the beach and fallen back.
The boy stopped suddenly, and the little horse stopped with him. Justahead, in the belt of wet sand which the highest waves had washed, laytwo tumbled figures. The little horse tossed his head uneasily, notliking this at all, and Ramsay felt a cold lump rise in his throat. Headvanced at a slow walk and, after some hesitation, the horse trotted tocatch up with him. Ramsay stopped again.
The two drowned people were Captain Schultz of the _Holter_ and the deckhand who had wished so fervently that he was somewhere else. Ramsaycleared the lump in his throat, and was struck by the notion that atlast the deck hand had gone somewhere else. Then the black horse raisedhis head and nickered, and the boy looked around to see a man on aspotted black-and-white horse riding toward him.
He rode at full trot, the reins hanging loosely around his mount'sthroat, and he wore an outlandish sort of affected cowboy's hat pulledlow over his eyes. His features were heavy, and would be flabby when hehad aged a few more years. Blue jeans clung tightly around his legs, andstraight black hair lay thick on his head. As he rode, he leveled aheavy pistol.
"Go on! Beat it!"
"But ..."
"This is my find! I said beat it!"
The pistol roared, and a heavy ball buried itself in the sand atRamsay's feet. The boy felt a quick anger and a disinclination to obeythe order to leave. He took a step toward the horseman, knowing that hewould need a few seconds to re-load his pistol. But almost by magicanother pistol appeared in the man's hand and he leveled it steadily.
"Your last warnin'. Go on!"
Ramsay shrugged, and the black horse followed him as he walked on. Thiswas indeed a strange land, where men were willing to fight for thepossession of corpses. What did the horseman want with them? The lootthey might have in their pockets? Perhaps, but that seemed veryunlikely. Captain Schultz was not the type of person who would carry agreat deal of money in his pockets, and certainly the deck hand wouldn'thave enough to bother about. But obviously the horseman wanted the twobodies.
Ramsay walked on up the sand beach. Gulls rose protestingly as he camein sight, and flocks of ducks scudded across the water. A pair of CanadaGeese hissed at him as he passed. They were guarding a nest and theywere ready to fight for it. Ramsay gave them a wide berth and the horsewalked faithfully beside him.
The afternoon was half-spent when Ramsay smelled wood smoke. Hequickened his pace, but remained cautious. This was a wild land, with nopart of it wilder than this lonely Lake Michigan Beach, and there wasnever any certainty as to just what anyone would find or how he would bereceived. Nevertheless, if these people were friendly, other humanswould be welcome. Ramsay was both hungry and tired to the point ofexhaustion. He fingered the two dollars in his pocket. He could pay hisway. He rounded a long, forested nose of land where the bluff cut thesand beach to a narrow five feet and looked out on a peaceful bay.
The bluff gave way to gently rising, treeless hills. A rail fence hemmedpart of them in, and black-and-white cattle grazed inside the fence. Astone house, of Dutch architecture, stood on a knoll that commanded aview of the lake, and a suitable distance from it was a snug woodenbarn. A small lake, or large pond, separated from Lake Michigan by anarrow neck of land, glowed like a blue sapphire. Chickens, ducks andgeese crowded noisily together in the barnyard, and a man with a woodenpail in his hand came out of the barn door.
Ramsay walked forward, as first uncertainly and then very steadily. Aman might be afraid, but it was always to his advantage not to let theenemy, if enemy this might be, know he was afraid. The man at the barndoor hesitated, and then stood still while the boy approached.
Ramsay greeted him pleasantly, "Hello."
"Hello."
The man was tall and supple, with a frank, open face and intelligent,blue eyes. He was perhaps six years older than Ramsay and he spoke witha Dutch accent. Ramsay said, "I was sailing up to Three Points on the_Holter_. Now she's wrecked and I must walk...."
"The _Holter's_ wrecked?" the other broke in.
"Yes."
"Any drowned people on the beach?"
"Two, but a man on a black-and-white horse took them away from me atpistol point." Ramsay knew a rising impatience. "Why the dickens shouldhe do that?"
The other grinned faintly. "You get money for watching 'em until theycan be brought in and buried proper, and money is not easy to come by.If there's a man already watching these, that would be Joe Mannis. Hecombs the beach night and day after storms, and he's got as much moneyas most people. What can I do for you?"
"I'd like something to eat before I go on to Three Points."
"That we can give you," the farmer said. "Come."
When the horse would have followed them to the house, the Dutch farmerlooked quizzically at Ramsay. The boy grinned.
"He's not mine. He was on the _Holter_ and we swam ashore together.Without him I might not have made it."
"Then he is yours," the farmer said. "By right of salvage he is yours.But Marta, she wouldn't like a horse in the house."
"It's hardly the place for a horse," Ramsay agreed. "Can we leave himhere?"
"Yaah."
The farmer opened the barnyard gate and Ramsay walked in. The horsefollowed willingly. Ramsay stepped out and shut the gate. He saw thelittle horse, its head over the bars, watching him as he walked towardthe house.
It was a clean house, and a scrubbed and shiny one. Even the big flatstone that served as a back doorstep had almost an antisepticcleanliness. The house was filled with the odors of freshly baked breadand spice and canned jam and curing hams. Ramsay smiled at the slim,pleasant girl who met them at the door.
"Marta," the farmer said, "this man was ship-wrecked and is to be ourguest for as long as he wants to stay. He is...?"
"Ramsay Cartou," Ramsay supplied.
"Yaah! Ramsay Cartou. I am Pieter Van Hooven and this is my wife,Marta."
Ramsay made himself comfortable in the neat kitchen while Marta VanHooven hurried efficiently about, preparing a meal. There was bakedwhitefish, venison, roasted goose, fluffy mashed potatoes, crisp salad,billowy fresh rolls, delicious cheese and milk.
Ramsay ate until he could eat no more, then pushed himself away from thetable and smiled graciously at Marta Van Hooven. "That was good!" hesaid feelingly.
"You ate so little."
Ramsay grinned, "Not more than enough to feed three good-sized horses.You can really cook."
Pieter Van Hooven glowed at this compliment extended to his wife. Hefilled and lighted a clay pipe, and puffed contentedly. "What are yougoing to do now?" he asked Ramsay.
"I," Ramsay hesitated, "I'd like to pay for the meal."
Pieter Van Hooven smiled. "Forget that. You were our guest."
"How far is Three Points?"
"Six miles. Just stay on the beach."
"Reckon I'll go up there then. I've got a job waiting for me at thetannery. By the way, do you hav
e any use for that horse?"
"A good horse can always be used on a farm. But I won't take him. I'llkeep him, and you can have him any time you want." Pieter Van Hoovenlooked queerly at Ramsay. "You sure you want to go to Three Points?"
"I've got a job there, and I need it."
"Then go, but remember that nobody starves in Wisconsin. Marta and me,we got no money but we got everything else. You don't like it in ThreePoints, you might come back here?"
"I'll be glad to," Ramsay said, a little puzzled.
"Then do that, my friend."
Well-fed and rested, Ramsay walked alone up the sandy beach. Stay on thesand, Pieter Van Hooven had advised him, and he couldn't go wrong. ThreePoints, the tannery town, was right on the lake. Two hours after he leftthe Van Hoovens, Ramsay reached the village.
Three Points nestled snugly in a gap which, only recently, had beenhacked out of the hemlock forest. Many big trees still stood on the edgeof town, and some right in the center; and most of the houses were builtof hemlock logs. There were a few, evidently belonging to Three Points'wealthier residents, that were massively built and patterned after theNew England style of architecture.
There was no mistaking the tannery; the smell would have guided onethere, even if the mountains of hemlock bark piled all about had not.Ramsay entered the long, low, shed-like building, and a man working at asteaming vat looked up curiously. Ramsay approached him with "Who's theboss man around here?"
"I am," an unseen man said.
Ramsay whirled to look at the man who had spoken, and he came face toface with Devil Chad.
The Spell of the White Sturgeon Page 2
