Alaskan

Oliver Curwood James

Description

Captain Rifle, gray and old in the Alaskan Steamship service, had not lost the spirit of his youth along with his years. Romance was not dead in him, and the fire which is built up of clean adventure and the association of strong men and a mighty country had not died out of his veins. He could still see the picturesque, feel the thrill of the unusual, and - at times - warm memories crowded upon him so closely that yesterday seemed today, and Alaska was young again, thrilling the world with her wild call to those who had courage to come and fight for her treasures, and live - or die.

Informations

• Publié par: Pub One Info
• Date de parution: 23 octobre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9782819900740
• Langue: English

Extrait

CHAPTER I
C aptain Rifle,gray and old in the Alaskan Steamship service, had not lost thespirit of his youth along with his years. Romance was not dead inhim, and the fire which is built up of clean adventure and theassociation of strong men and a mighty country had not died out ofhis veins. He could still see the picturesque, feel the thrill ofthe unusual, and – at times – warm memories crowded upon him soclosely that yesterday seemed today, and Alaska was young again,thrilling the world with her wild call to those who had courage tocome and fight for her treasures, and live – or die.
Tonight, with the softly musical throb of his shipunder his feet, and the yellow moon climbing up from behind theramparts of the Alaskan mountains, something of loneliness seizedupon him, and he said simply: "That is Alaska."
The girl standing beside him at the rail did notturn, nor for a moment did she answer. He could see her profileclear-cut as a cameo in the almost vivid light, and in that lighther eyes were wide and filled with a dusky fire, and her lips wereparted a little, and her slim body was tense as she looked at thewonder of the moon silhouetting the cragged castles of the peaks,up where the soft, gray clouds lay like shimmering draperies.
Then she turned her face a little and nodded. "Yes,Alaska," she said, and the old captain fancied there was theslightest ripple of a tremor in her voice. "Your Alaska, CaptainRifle."
Out of the clearness of the night came to them adistant sound like the low moan of thunder. Twice before, MaryStandish had heard it, and now she asked: "What was that? Surely itcan not be a storm, with the moon like that, and the stars so clearabove!" "It is ice breaking from the glaciers and falling into thesea. We are in the Wrangel Narrows, and very near the shore, MissStandish. If it were day you could hear the birds singing. This iswhat we call the Inside Passage. I have always called it thewater-wonderland of the world, and yet, if you will observe, I mustbe mistaken – for we are almost alone on this side of the ship. Isit not proof? If I were right, the men and women in there –dancing, playing cards, chattering – would be crowding this rail.Can you imagine humans like that? But they can't see what I see,for I am a ridiculous old fool who remembers things. Ah, do youcatch that in the air, Miss Standish – the perfume of flowers, offorests, of green things ashore? It is faint, but I catch it." "Andso do I."
She breathed in deeply of the sweet air, and turnedthen, so that she stood with her back to the rail, facing theflaming lights of the ship.
The mellow cadence of the music came to her,soft-stringed and sleepy; she could hear the shuffle of dancingfeet. Laughter rippled with the rhythmic thrum of the ship, voicesrose and fell beyond the lighted windows, and as the old captainlooked at her, there was something in her face which he could notunderstand.
She had come aboard strangely at Seattle, alone andalmost at the last minute – defying the necessity of makingreservation where half a thousand others had been turned away – andchance had brought her under his eyes. In desperation she hadappealed to him, and he had discovered a strange terror under theforced calm of her appearance. Since then he had fathered her withhis attentions, watching closely with the wisdom of years. And morethan once he had observed that questing, defiant poise of her headwith which she was regarding the cabin windows now.
She had told him she was twenty-three and on her wayto meet relatives in Nome. She had named certain people. And he hadbelieved her. It was impossible not to believe her, and he admiredher pluck in breaking all official regulations in comingaboard.
In many ways she was companionable and sweet. Yetout of his experience, he gathered the fact that she was under atension. He knew that in some way she was making a fight, but,influenced by the wisdom of three and sixty years, he did not lether know he had guessed the truth.
He watched her closely now, without seeming to doso. She was very pretty in a quiet and unusual way. There wassomething irresistibly attractive about her, appealing to oldmemories which were painted clearly in his heart. She was girlishlyslim. He had observed that her eyes were beautifully clear and grayin the sunlight, and her exquisitely smooth dark hair, neatlycoiled and luxuriant crown of beauty, reminded him of puritanism inits simplicity. At times he doubted that she was twenty-three. Ifshe had said nineteen or twenty he would have been bettersatisfied. She puzzled him and roused speculation in him. But itwas a part of his business to see many things which others mightnot see – and hold his tongue. "We are not quite alone," she wassaying. "There are others," and she made a little gesture towardtwo figures farther up the rail. "Old Donald Hardwick, of Skagway,"he said. "And the other is Alan Holt." "Oh, yes."
She was facing the mountains again, her eyes shiningin the light of the moon. Gently her hand touched the old captain'sarm. "Listen," she whispered. "Another berg breaking away from OldThunder. We are very near the shore, and there are glaciers all theway up." "And that other sound, like low wind – on a night so stilland calm! What is it?" "You always hear that when very close to thebig mountains, Miss Standish. It is made by the water of a thousandstreams and rivulets rushing down to the sea. Wherever there ismelting snow in the mountains, you hear that song." "And this man,Alan Holt," she reminded him. "He is a part of these things?""Possibly more than any other man, Miss Standish. He was born inAlaska before Nome or Fairbanks or Dawson City were thought of. Itwas in Eighty-four, I think. Let me see, that would make him – ""Thirty-eight," she said, so quickly that for a moment he wasastonished.
Then he chuckled. "You are very good atfigures."
He felt an almost imperceptible tightening of herfingers on his arm. "This evening, just after dinner, old Donaldfound me sitting alone. He said he was lonely and wanted to talkwith someone – like me. He almost frightened me, with his great,gray beard and shaggy hair. I thought of ghosts as we talked therein the dusk." "Old Donald belongs to the days when the Chilkoot andthe White Horse ate up men's lives, and a trail of living dead ledfrom the Summit to Klondike, Miss Standish," said Captain Rifle."You will meet many like him in Alaska. And they remember. You cansee it in their faces – always the memory of those days that aregone."
She bowed her head a little, looking to the sea."And Alan Holt? You know him well?" "Few men know him well. He is apart of Alaska itself, and I have sometimes thought him more aloofthan the mountains. But I know him. All northern Alaska knows AlanHolt. He has a reindeer range up beyond the Endicott Mountains andis always seeking the last frontier." "He must be very brave.""Alaska breeds heroic men, Miss Standish." "And honorable men – menyou can trust and believe in?" "Yes." "It is odd," she said, with atrembling little laugh that was like a bird-note in her throat. "Ihave never seen Alaska before, and yet something about thesemountains makes me feel that I have known them a long time ago. Iseem to feel they are welcoming me and that I am going home. AlanHolt is a fortunate man. I should like to be an Alaskan." "And youare – " "An American," she finished for him, a sudden, swift ironyin her voice. "A poor product out of the melting-pot, CaptainRifle. I am going north – to learn." "Only that, MissStandish?"
His question, quietly spoken and without emphasis,demanded an answer. His kindly face, seamed by the suns and windsof many years at sea, was filled with honest anxiety as she turnedto look straight into his eyes. "I must press the question," hesaid. "As the captain of this ship, and as a father, it is my duty.Is there not something you would like to tell me – in confidence,if you will have it so?"
For an instant she hesitated, then slowly she shookher head. "There is nothing, Captain Rifle." "And yet – you cameaboard very strangely," he urged. "You will recall that it was mostunusual – without reservation, without baggage – " "You forget thehand-bag," she reminded him. "Yes, but one does not start fornorthern Alaska with only a hand-bag scarcely large enough tocontain a change of linen, Miss Standish." "But I did, CaptainRifle." "True. And I saw you fighting past the guards like a littlewildcat. It was without precedent." "I am sorry. But they werestupid and difficult to pass." "Only by chance did I happen to seeit all, my child. Otherwise the ship's regulations would havecompelled me to send you ashore. You were frightened. You can notdeny that. You were running away from something!"
He was amazed at the childish simplicity with whichshe answered him. "Yes, I was running away – from something."
Her eyes were beautifully clear and unafraid, andyet again he sensed the thrill of the fight she was making. "Andyou will not tell me why – or from what you were escaping?" "I cannot – tonight. I may do so before we reach Nome. But – it ispossible – " "What?" "That I shall never reach Nome."
Suddenly she caught one of his hands in both herown. Her fingers clung to him, and with a little note of fiercenessin her voice she hugged the hand to her breast. "I know just howgood you have been to me," she cried. "I should like to tell youwhy I came aboard – like that. But I can not. Look! Look at thosewonderful mountains!" With one free hand she pointed. "Behind themand beyond them lie the romance and adventure and mystery ofcenturies, and for nearly thirty years you have been very nearthose things, Captain Rifle. No man will ever see again what youhave seen or feel what you have felt, or forget what you have hadto forget. I know it. And after all that, can't you – won't you –forget the strange manner in which I came aboard this ship? It issuch a simple, little thing to put out of your mind