His Unknown Wife

Sturgess, though evidently burning to ask a question, merely nodded, grinning cheerfully when he caught Nina’s eye.

“I only want you to understand why I claim some knowledge, such as it is, of this locality,” continued Maseden. “At the southwest corner of Hanover Island is a ten-mile patch called Cambridge Island, and the two form the northern boundary of Nelson Straits. But in the channel between them are two smaller islands, and, unless I am greatly mistaken, there they are.”

He pointed across the estuary, and indicated a break in the coast-line, beyond which other more distant hills were visible.

“It follows,” he went on, “that when we sail up this channel to the left, we shall find ourselves in Nelson Straits, and, after covering fifty or sixty miles of fairly open water – open, that is, in the sense that there is plenty of it – we shall be in Smyth’s Channel, and in the track of passing ships.”

He paused, but did not try to ignore the plain demand legible on three intent faces.

“Yes; that is the only way,” he said quietly. “We are here. We are alive. There is plenty of wood, and we have brains, hands, and fire. We must construct some sort of a raft, something in the style of the lumber-rafts built on big rivers, and take advantage of the tides. Our present position is quite inaccessible by land, and, I fear, equally unapproachable by water.

“And I’ll tell you why I think so. Within quarter of a mile of us are some splendid oyster-beds. The coastal aborigines live mainly on shell-fish, and this store would have been visited by them times out of number if they could get at it. But I have seen no heaps of shells, such as must have remained if the savages came here.

“What has stopped them? Impassable forests, glaciers, and precipices on land, dangerous reefs and fierce tidal currents by sea. The geological feature which helped our climb yesterday must create reef after reef across the track of the channel.

“You see those pathways there?” and he stretched a hand towards the series of rock outcrops lining the shore like groins. “They have been almost leveled by the storms of centuries. But the Southern Cross was lost on one of them, and there must be scores of others between here and Smyth’s Channel. There may be passages between many if not all, but it is self-evident that navigation is far too risky for the small coracles of the natives. We must go slowly and safely, if possible. If our raft will not cross a reef, we must abandon it, and build another on the far side. We may have to do that six times, a dozen times, even in sixty miles. There is no other means of escape. We may be weeks, months, in winning through, but that is our only practicable plan.”

“Gee!” murmured Sturgess. “And I’m due in New York on February 10!”

The sheer absurdity of naming a date relaxed the tension. They all laughed, though not with the light-hearted mirth which four young people might reasonably display after dodging death continuously during twenty-four hours.

“By the way, what day is it?” inquired Nina Forbes wistfully.

“Sunday, January 23,” said Sturgess. “I know, because it was my birthday yesterday. Somewhere about eleven o’clock a. m., I was twenty-seven. I didn’t make a fuss about it. Just at that time, wise Alec here was holding on to a rock by his teeth and one toe, and telling us we had to go back carefully after a beastly difficult climb.”

“Sunday!” repeated the girl.

Her thoughts traveled many a thousand miles to the quiet little New Jersey township where her mother was living during the absence of husband and daughters in South America. It was winter in the North, and there might be snow on the fields and ice on the streams, but snow and ice conforming to New Jersey notions of order and seemliness.

What a contrast between the white mantle marked out in rectangles by the country roads and ditches, with here and there a group of trees, a trim shrubbery, a red-roofed farm or dwelling house, and this chaos of rock, forest, cliff and ocean!

“Will the loss of the Southern Cross be reported?” she asked suddenly. The query was addressed to no one in particular, but Maseden answered.

“Her non-arrival will be noted at Punta Arenas,” he said. “After a time the insurance people will post her as ‘missing.’ Then she will be assumed to be lost. Possibly some of the wreckage may be picked up. Or a boat. What became of all the boats?”

“Some of ’em were stove in, others washed clean off their davits,” said Sturgess. “It was absolutely impossible to lower one. No one who did not witness it would have believed that a fine ship could break to pieces so quickly. Gee whiz! One minute I was standing near the fore-rail, looking at the narrowing entrance in full confidence that we should win through, and the next I was fighting for my life in the smoking-room, up to my waist in water.”

“You are not quite doing yourself justice, C. K.,” said Madge. “You were fighting for other people’s lives as well. I have the clearest recollection of being hauled up the companion ladder to the bridge by you and one of the ship’s officers. Then you went back and helped Nina and Mr. Gray.”

“That is what I was there for,” was the prompt reply.

“This being Sunday, do we labor or rest, Alec?” inquired Nina.

It was the first time either girl had used Maseden’s Christian name, and the sound on a woman’s lips was like a caress. He reddened, and smiled. Nina’s eyes met his, and dropped confusedly.

“We rest,” he said. “We need rest. At least, I am free to confess that I do. You energetic people are inclined to forget that I began a really strenuous life by receiving a rap on the head that put me out of commission during several hours… Now, Mr. Sturgess – sorry, C. K. – and I are going on a little tour along the coast. We shall be away an hour or more. I advise you two to rig yourselves as best you can in my superfluous garments. Make sure they are quite dry. It may seem rather absurd, but putting on damp clothing is an altogether different thing from allowing wet clothes to dry on your body. Keep a good fire. There is nothing to be afraid of. In this strange land there are neither animals nor reptiles.”

“Nor birds,” said Nina.

“Yes, plenty of birds, but the nesting season is long over, and many of the sea-birds have gone south. As we progress further inland we shall come across great colonies of puffins, ducks and swans. Curiously enough, there are plenty of humming-birds, which is about the last species one would expect off-hand to find in these wastes… Come along, C. K. Let us try and circumvent the wily seal.”

“Why not shoot one?” said Sturgess.

“Because I have only twenty-four cartridges, and each one may yet be worth its weight in diamonds. Remember, everybody! – we only use the rifle in the last extremity, either for food, or fire, or actual self-preservation. Once lighted, on no account must the fire be allowed to die out. Even when we build a raft, we can imitate the natives, and carry a fire with us. To save us men from temptation to-day, should we find a seal, we’ll leave the gun with the ladies.

“A couple of cudgels, with ends sharpened and hardened in the fire, should serve our needs, and do the seal’s business as well. If not, we must try again, and exist on oysters until we become more expert… I’ll put five cartridges in the magazine, and show you girls how it works. If you regard each shell as worth, say, five thousand dollars, you’ll appreciate the net value of the whole twenty-four.”

Within a few minutes Maseden and Sturgess set off. The tide was now at its lowest point, so they had no difficulty in walking in almost any direction. Their first act was to drag ashore the remains of the bunk. Given a quantity of malleable iron and a fire, it would not be an impossible task to construct some rough tools.

While placing this treasure-trove above high-water mark they saw the two girls examining the stock of underclothes which Providence had literally provided for their needs.

“Gosh!” said Sturgess, almost reverently. “It beats me to know how a couple of delicate women could endure the hardships we have gone through.”

“But women are not delicate. I don’t understand why men invariably harbor that delusion. In passive resistance women are more steadfast, even hardier, than men. That is an essential, don’t you see? The continuance of the race depends far more on the female than on the male. Civilization tries to upset the great principles of life, but fails, luckily. Savage tribes are aware of that elementary fact. Low down in the social scale the women do all the work, while the men loaf around, and only get busy when hunting or fighting.”

“Tell you what, Alec,” said Sturgess admiringly, “once fairly started, you talk like a book.”

Such a remark could hardly fail to act as a gag on one of Maseden’s temperament. By habit a silent man, he shrank from even the semblance of loquacity. Sturgess could extract no further information from him. He in his turn soon learned to guard his tongue when the Vermonter was in the talking vein, and unconsciously pouring out the stock of knowledge and philosophy garnered during those peaceful years on the ranch.

“We had better go this way,” said Maseden, pointing towards the west. “Don’t you think it advisable to search the coast seaward? There have been three tides since the ship struck, and anything likely to come ashore should have shown up by this time.”

“Go right ahead, Alec. What you say goes.”

Their search was fruitless. Indeed, the position in which the leather trunk was found proved that the set of the current on a rising tide was in the direction of the channel between the two small islands.

Maseden had little or no experience of the sea and its vagaries, or he would have noticed this highly significant fact, and thus saved himself and his companions much hardship and a good deal of needless risk.

Of course, he saw quickly that there was a remarkable absence of wreckage on the north side of the estuary, but he attributed it to the fury of the gale, which must have driven a great body of water far into the network of channels which stretched inland, with a resultant outpouring when the wind pressure was relaxed.

The only satisfactory outcome of a close visit to the bar was the complete vindication of their means of escape from the ledge. It would have been a sheer impossibility to round the point at or slightly above sea-level. The tides of untold ages had literally scooped a chasm out of the cliff, and perversely chosen to batter a passage through the rock rather than take the open path farther south.

They could not see the reef which had destroyed the Southern Cross. But they could hear it. Ever above the clatter of the rollers on the nearer rocks they caught the sullen roar of the outer fury.

“Let’s clear out of this,” said Sturgess suddenly. “That noise sends a chill right down my backbone.”

Maseden turned at once. In any case, they could not have remained there much longer, because the tide was on the flow, and they had yet to discover how swiftly it covered the rock-paved foreshore.

They did not hurry, but kept a sharp look-out for seals, seeing several, but at a great distance. While they were yet nearly a quarter of a mile from the camping ground, from which came a pillar of smoke, showing that the fire was not being neglected, they were startled by a gun-shot.

It smote the air with a sound that was all the more insistent in that it was wholly unexpected. It drove into the sea, with a loud splash, a seal close at hand which had been hidden by a rock, and even brought a pair of circling bustards from some eyrie high up on the hills.

With never a word to one another, both men began to run.

CHAPTER XIII

THE SECOND SHIPWRECK

A series of reefs does not supply the best of surfaces for a sprint. Maseden slipped on a bed of seaweed and fell headlong, fortunately escaping injury. Sturgess, lighter, perhaps more adroit on his feet – it came out subsequently that he was an accomplished skater – stumbled several times, but contrived to keep going.