II
The three days' voyage by boat and rail was irksome. I bought my kitat Sainte Croix, on the Central Pacific Railroad, and on June 1st Ibegan the last stage of my journey _via_ the Sainte Isole broad-gauge,arriving in the wilderness by daylight. A tedious forced march byblazed trail, freshly spotted on the wrong side, of course, brought meto the northern terminus of the rusty, narrow-gauge lumber railwaywhich runs from the heart of the hushed pine wilderness to the sea.
Already a long train of battered flat-cars, piled with sluice-propsand roughly hewn sleepers, was moving slowly off into the broodingforest gloom, when I came in sight of the track; but I developed agratifying and unexpected burst of speed, shouting all the while. Thetrain stopped; I swung myself aboard the last car, where a pleasantyoung fellow was sitting on the rear brake, chewing spruce and readinga letter.
"Come aboard, sir," he said, looking up with a smile; "I guess you'rethe man in a hurry."
"I'm looking for a man named Halyard," I said, dropping rifle andknapsack on the fresh-cut, fragrant pile of pine. "Are you Halyard?"
"No, I'm Francis Lee, bossing the mica pit at Port-of-Waves," hereplied, "but this letter is from Halyard, asking me to look out for aman in a hurry from Bronx Park, New York."
"I'm that man," said I, filling my pipe and offering him a share ofthe weed of peace, and we sat side by side smoking very amiably, untila signal from the locomotive sent him forward and I was left alone,lounging at ease, head pillowed on both arms, watching the blue skyflying through the branches overhead.
Long before we came in sight of the ocean I smelled it; the fresh,salt aroma stole into my senses, drowsy with the heated odor of pineand hemlock, and I sat up, peering ahead into the dusky sea of pines.
Fresher and fresher came the wind from the sea, in puffs, in mild,sweet breezes, in steady, freshening currents, blowing the featherycrowns of the pines, setting the balsam's blue tufts rocking.
Lee wandered back over the long line of flats, balancing himselfnonchalantly as the cars swung around a sharp curve, where waterdripped from a newly propped sluice that suddenly emerged from thedepths of the forest to run parallel to the railroad track.
"Built it this spring," he said, surveying his handiwork, which seemedto undulate as the cars swept past. "It runs to the cove--or oughtto--" He stopped abruptly with a thoughtful glance at me.
"So you're going over to Halyard's?" he continued, as though answeringa question asked by himself.
I nodded.
"You've never been there--of course?"
"No," I said, "and I'm not likely to go again."
I would have told him why I was going if I had not already begun tofeel ashamed of my idiotic errand.
"I guess you're going to look at those birds of his," continued Lee,placidly.
"I guess I am," I said, sulkily, glancing askance to see whether hewas smiling.
But he only asked me, quite seriously, whether a great auk was reallya very rare bird; and I told him that the last one ever seen had beenfound dead off Labrador in January, 1870. Then I asked him whetherthese birds of Halyard's were really great auks, and he replied,somewhat indifferently, that he supposed they were--at least, nobodyhad ever before seen such birds near Port-of-Waves.
"There's something else," he said, running, a pine-sliver through hispipe-stem--"something that interests us all here more than auks, bigor little. I suppose I might as well speak of it, as you are bound tohear about it sooner or later."
He hesitated, and I could see that he was embarrassed, searching forthe exact words to convey his meaning.
"If," said I, "you have anything in this region more important toscience than the great auk, I should be very glad to know about it."
Perhaps there was the faintest tinge of sarcasm in my voice, for heshot a sharp glance at me and then turned slightly. After a moment,however, he put his pipe into his pocket, laid hold of the brake withboth hands, vaulted to his perch aloft, and glanced down at me.
"Did you ever hear of the harbor-master?" he asked, maliciously.
"Which harbor-master?" I inquired.
"You'll know before long," he observed, with a satisfied glance intoperspective.
This rather extraordinary observation puzzled me. I waited for him toresume, and, as he did not, I asked him what he meant.
"If I knew," he said, "I'd tell you. But, come to think of it, I'd bea fool to go into details with a scientific man. You'll hear about theharbor-master--perhaps you will see the harbor-master. In that event Ishould be glad to converse with you on the subject."
I could not help laughing at his prim and precise manner, and, after amoment, he also laughed, saying:
"It hurts a man's vanity to know he knows a thing that somebody elseknows he doesn't know. I'm damned if I say another word about theharbor-master until you've been to Halyard's!"
"A harbor-master," I persisted, "is an official who superintends themooring of ships--isn't he?"
But he refused to be tempted into conversation, and we loungedsilently on the lumber until a long, thin whistle from the locomotiveand a rush of stinging salt-wind brought us to our feet. Through thetrees I could see the bluish-black ocean, stretching out beyond blackheadlands to meet the clouds; a great wind was roaring among the treesas the train slowly came to a stand-still on the edge of the primevalforest.
Lee jumped to the ground and aided me with my rifle and pack, and thenthe train began to back away along a curved side-track which, Leesaid, led to the mica-pit and company stores.
"Now what will you do?" he asked, pleasantly. "I can give you a gooddinner and a decent bed to-night if you like--and I'm sure Mrs. Leewould be very glad to have you stop with us as long as you choose."
I thanked him, but said that I was anxious to reach Halyard's beforedark, and he very kindly led me along the cliffs and pointed out thepath.
"This man Halyard," he said, "is an invalid. He lives at a cove calledBlack Harbor, and all his truck goes through to him over the company'sroad. We receive it here, and send a pack-mule through once a month.I've met him; he's a bad-tempered hypochondriac, a cynic at heart, anda man whose word is never doubted. If he says he has a great auk, youmay be satisfied he has."
My heart was beating with excitement at the prospect; I looked outacross the wooded headlands and tangled stretches of dune and hollow,trying to realize what it might mean to me, to Professor Farrago, tothe world, if I should lead back to New York a live auk.
"He's a crank," said Lee; "frankly, I don't like him. If you find itunpleasant there, come back to us."
"Does Halyard live alone?" I asked.
"Yes--except for a professional trained nurse--poor thing!"
"A man?"
"No," said Lee, disgustedly.
Presently he gave me a peculiar glance; hesitated, and finally said:"Ask Halyard to tell you about his nurse and--the harbor-master.Good-bye--I'm due at the quarry. Come and stay with us whenever youcare to; you will find a welcome at Port-of-Waves."
We shook hands and parted on the cliff, he turning back into theforest along the railway, I starting northward, pack slung, rifle overmy shoulder. Once I met a group of quarrymen, faces burned brick-red,scarred hands swinging as they walked. And, as I passed them with anod, turning, I saw that they also had turned to look after me, and Icaught a word or two of their conversation, whirled back to me on thesea-wind.
They were speaking of the harbor-master.
In Search of the Unknown Page 2