CHAPTER XI
THE LONELY ISLAND
The little _Bunting_, brigantine-rigged, and, yacht-fashion,possessing an auxiliary screw, plowed the waters of Behring Sea.
Jim, with Clem and Anton beside him, stood on the foc's'le head,gazing into the foggy distance. Owens was on the poop, with the ownerof the tiny yacht, who was a personal friend, and moodily scanned thehorizon. Otto, utterly disregarding the universal sea injunction:"Don't Talk to the Man at the Wheel!" stayed at the stern andexchanged occasional sentences with the helmsman.
There were, also, two other passengers on board, both down in thecabin. One was a grizzled giant, the other was a young woman, some 25years of age. The first was a half-brother of Joe Juneau, and wasknown throughout the Far North as "The Arctic Wizard" from his uncannyknowledge of Alaskan mining deposits, and his ability as a miningengineer in overcoming the peculiar difficulties of frozen ground andof maintaining machinery in working order under the most rigorousconditions of weather. The second was "Bull's little gal," moreproperly known as Jameine Evans, herself a graduate of the PittsburghSchool of Mines.
With the money that had been sent her, when a baby, by the Road-Agentof Circle, and with the additional sums forwarded from time to time byJim, Jameine (so christened as a namesake of the old prospector) hadbeen able to pay her way through school and college and had taken amining course besides.
This specialized education had been her plan of gratitude. Only bymaking herself efficient in a kindred field, she felt, could she everbe a real "pardner" to Jim; only thus could she repay, in somemeasure, the generosity of the old prospector. She had long realizedthe unselfishness of the man who had stayed winter after winter in thefrozen North, denying himself the rude pleasures of a mining camp inorder to help "Bull's little gal."
Ever since Jim had made his famous strike, as a result of the mapwhich had been sent to her by her father's murderer, Jameine hadregarded herself as the heiress of a dream mine, but a dream whichmight, some day, come true. For her own sake, as well as Jim's, shehad read and studied as much as she could of Alaskan conditions.
It was she who finally disclosed to Jim that the Russian seal-poacherswere probably at fault in chasing him from his strike, and only wantedto get rid of the inconvenient witness. Thus she had reawakened theprospector's lagging interest in his find, but lacking the large storeof capital necessary to exploit the mine, she could do nothing. Jimhad used up all his savings in going from town to town trying tointerest a big investor and had finally entered Owens' coal mine inorder to get a little stake again.
Wizard Juneau was amazed at the extent of mining knowledge shown bythis girl shipmate, and he had spent the greater part of the voyagefrom Sitka in imparting to her some of the secrets distilled from hislong experience in frozen mining. He had brought on board the_Bunting_ many of the publications of the U. S. Geological Survey, andof the Bureau of Mines, annotated by himself. He had brought, also, anumber of crude maps of half-explored territory, either drawn by hisown hand or by old prospectors, which maps and charts were among hismost prized possessions.
"Some of these," he explained, "were made by Alf Brooks,[8] one of thenerviest explorers that the U. S. ever sent out. I've been with him onmore than one reconnoissance survey. And some were made by experts onthe U. S. Revenue Cutter _Bear_.[9] I sailed on her two seasons."
[Footnote 8: For the Alaskan explorations of Brooks ("Rivers") see theauthor's "The Boy with the U. S. Survey."]
[Footnote 9: For the Behring Sea work of the _Bear_, see the author's"The Boy with the U. S. Lifesavers."]
"And do you think, Mr. Juneau, that this island of Uncle Jim's is onthe American side of the line?"
The "Wizard" pursed his lips with an expression of doubt.
"It's a toss of the dice," he said. "Ingalook, the easternmost of theDiomede Islands, where Jim found that piece of gold-bearing quartz, issure American territory. I don't take kindly to Ingalook, though.There'd be trouble, there, in trying to install proper mining andcrushing devices. There's no landing place on that isolated granitedome standing forlornly out of the sea, except for seals, polar bears,or crazy prospectors like Jim, there.
"But this Chukalook Bank of the Road Agent's map, where the pay graveland the lignite coal lie--supposing that it's the same as this littleunnamed dot marked on the charts--seems to be right on theinternational boundary line. We'll have to wait until we get there tomake accurate observations."
"Can you do that, too, Mr. Juneau?"
"Me? No! I can take a sight of course, but not accurate enough whereit's a matter of minutes or even seconds of a degree. But CaptainRobertson can. Like many of these amateur yachtsmen, he's a betternavigator than the captain of some Atlantic liners. It's his hobby.Besides, he's got instruments of precision aboard that an admiralwould envy. What's more, he's a certificated man, and his say-so on anautical observation of longitude would be legal in the courts. Minewouldn't."
"And suppose the island should prove to be on the Russian side?"
"Then, young lady, you'll have to turn Russian!"
"What nonsense! You know I wouldn't. No, but speaking seriously?"
"Well, seriously, then, you'd have to buy the island from theBolsheviks, or from the Eastern Siberian Republic, or from theJapanese, or whoever happens to be claiming it. International rightsup in the Asiatic Arctic are badly mixed up, these days. And thatwouldn't be the worst of it. You'd have to pay stiff royalties and youwouldn't be sure of any sort of protection--unless it was theJapanese."
"We'll buy it, if we have to!" declared Jameine decidedly. "I'm notgoing to have anything happen that will spoil Uncle Jim's strike!"
"He's a regular dad to you, Miss Evans, eh?"
"He's the only one I ever remember," the girl replied. "My real fatherwent up to Skagway, just a few weeks after I was born, only havingstayed down in Montana long enough to see me. And, as you know, Mr.Juneau, he went over the Chilkoot Pass with Uncle Jim and never cameback any more. Mother died when I was quite small. I know Uncle Jimfeels that 'Bull's little gal' is his own. I feel so, too!"
The grizzled mining engineer patted the hand with which the girl washolding open the chart.
"Don't ye worry," he said, kindly, "we'll make good. We'll bluff anyone that comes to Chukalook--supposing we find it--long enough to getthe best o' the pay gravel. If that don't do the trick, we'll fight.
"And there's another thing. If Chukalook doesn't pan out, there's thequartz at Ingalook. I've never seen the gold deposit yet--no matterhow poor--that I couldn't turn into money, so long as I could getenough capital behind me to exploit it."
"Mr. Owens will give that," asserted Jameine confidently.
The "Wizard" shook a warning finger.
"Not just for sentiment, he won't," he said, "not if I read him right.He's generous enough, and he'd see that you and Jim didn't suffer. Buthe's too keen a business man to invest his money unless he sees a fairchance of return. We've got to show him!"
"He certainly doesn't seem as enthusiastic about it now, as he didwhen we started," Jameine agreed, thoughtfully.
"That's natural enough! Don't ye forget he's an Australian, and allthe gold fields he's ever seen, there, and in South Africa, were inhot desert country. These waters don't look promising to him!"
The "Wizard" was right. Owens was scanning the slate-gray waterflecked with foam and the sky of dripping fog with equal distrust anddislike. The pieces of ice-floe bobbing in the choppy current inspiredhim with uneasiness, even with fear. The assurances of his friend, theyachtsman, gave him no confidence.
Had it been possible, he would have been heartily glad to back out ofhis agreement, but there was no way he could do it with honor. He hadsought out Jameine in Pittsburgh, had seen Jim's letters, and hadchecked up the Express Company's receipts of gold forwarded by the oldprospector from the mining camps of Forty-Mile, of Circle, of Juneau,of Klondyke, of Dawson City and of Nome. Jameine's hopeful spirit andher determination to make good on Jim's strike had b
een infectious.Owens had set out, almost gaily. But this grim, inhospitable sea put adamper on his spirits.
"Doesn't the sun ever shine here, Jack?" he asked abruptly.
"Not often," was the yachtsman's cheerful answer. "That's why the furseals love it. Why, bless you, on Pribilof Islands, where the sealrockeries lie, there aren't twenty days of sunshine in a year. I knowthese waters. I came hunting sea-otter once. We ran two summer monthswithout seeing the sun."
"It's no place for me!" declared the mine-owner. "Those who like thesea can have it, and be welcome!"
The yachtsman bridled. He loved the sea.
"Open your nostrils, man, and sniff; that's pure air, at least. Itisn't like what I smelt last time I visited your dirty old coal mine!"he retorted. "Every dog to its own kennel, Owens! After all, youwanted to come here."
Jim felt much the same way. Standing on the foc's'le head, the rawair, with its sudden hot spells when the sun gleamed dully through thefog, brought him welcome memories. It seemed homelike, after his briefexperience in a coal mine. As he had said himself, he was a"sour-dough." The uncanny fascination that the Far North exerts onthose who have once lived there, gripped him hard.
"Ain't no crowd here to worry a man!" he declared, drawing in deepbreaths, "an' there's room enough to stand straight! Would you wantto go back to them coal galleries, Clem, four feet high an' stinkin'?"
"They suited me all right before, Jim," the young fellow answered,"and I don't see why they shouldn't again. I got mightily interestedin coal. Still, I needed a rest, and this trip is interesting, I'llallow. But wait till we get to the actual mining of the gold, and thenI'll tell you which I like best."
"An' you, Anton?"
"I never want to go below ground again," the boy answered promptly."But it must be awful cold here in winter--if this is summer!"
"Ay, it's cold an' dark, no sun at all for two months. An' a man'll gohungry often. But it's free an' open an' no one has a boss! What'smore, there's gold!"
Anton shivered. The call of the North had not gripped him, yet.
Otto, beside the helmsman, was worrying him--neither with the weather,nor with the question of treasure. To the first he was indifferent, tothe second he was satisfied with drawing full pay every day and notdoing any hewing for it. With huge delight, he was absorbing all thesuperstitions of the sea, and giving the steersman a gruesome crop oftales of knockers and gas sprites underground.
There was no special reason why he should have come on the voyage,except that he had asked to come. Owing to Anton's hatred for coalmining--born of the entombment--Clem had used his position as Jim's"pardner" to bring the boy along. Otto, having taken what might betermed a paternal and prophetic interest in the imprisoned men, wantedto join the party.
Owens made no objection. He knew laborers would be wanted, and hepreferred men who would not be likely to betray the secret of thegold. He knew the miner's unswerving loyalty, and was well aware thatloyalty is the one quality which is beyond all price.
Towards the close of the afternoon, the _Bunting_ shortened sail. Theywere drawing near.
Somewhere, not far from them, lay the Diomede Islands, those two greatgranite crags rising sheer out of the sea with deep water on everyside. The lead would give no sign. There is no fog signal on theDiomedes. In such a thick and clammy mist as hung over the water, aship could wreck herself upon those bleak coasts almost before shesaw the surf under her bows. The wind was light, and the brigantineslid slowly over the water.
The "Arctic Wizard," his eyes accustomed to the northern skies, wasthe first to see a faint purplish blotch in the swirling mist.
"Land! Captain!" he warned, quickly. "Keep away! Keep well away!"
Almost instantly, the booming of breakers was heard.
Well was it for those on board that the _Bunting_ was quick on herhelm! She bore off, just in time, the creaming surf not more thanthree cables' length ahead.
"A little too close for my liking!" exclaimed the yachtsman, buttreating the danger lightly. "That's Ingalook, I suppose, Mr. Juneau?"
"Ingalook she is. At least, I think so. I've never been quite soclose, before."
"And I don't want to be, again! Well now, I suppose, the real treasurehunt begins."
He called Jim.
"How did you say Chukalook Bank bore from here?"
"From Chukalook," Jim answered, "on a clear day, I could see thisisland two points east o' south, an' the other island, the Russianone, three points west o' south."
The yachtsman looked at him thoughtfully.
"And there's no knowing what compass correction to allow for a pocketcompass, and there's the magnetic variation besides. Well, we'll workit out! And how far away do you reckon the island was?"
"I don't know nothin' about sea distances, Cap'n. She looked justabout the size o' my thumb-nail."
"So! How high was Chukalook Bank above the water?"
"She goes up like a wedge o' cake, Cap'n. Maybe five hundred feet atthe highest point. Where I was workin' wasn't more'n fifty foot abovesea level."
"Well," commented the yachtsman thoughtfully, "allowing for thecurvature of the earth, and for low visibility on these seas thatought to make Chukalook about thirty or forty miles from here. We'llput on a little sail and cruise N. N. E. for a few hours."
But the bank was nearer than Jim supposed.
Shortly after dawn, a sailor posted in the cross-trees reported aflat berg to starboard. The sails were furled, and the _Bunting_ cameup to it slowly under her auxiliary screw.
Jim heard the engines and rushed up on deck.
"That's Chukalook!" he cried, after the first look. "Now, who says I'mdreamin'? Wait till I tell Bull's little gal!"
He had not long to wait.
The sound of excited voices on deck had awakened the girl, and shedressed and came up hastily.
"Jameine!" he shouted, as soon as she came up the companion ladder,"there's our gold!"
The girl ran lightly across the deck and pressed the old prospector'sarm.
"I knew you'd find it, Uncle Jim," she rejoiced, "I said so, allalong!" Then, turning to the mine-owner, who had also come on deck,she added, "There it is, Mr. Owens!"
The Australian looked. That low flat bank, slowly sloping upwards,fringed with ice and deep in snow, was none too reassuring.
"You're sure?" he asked suspiciously. "It looks to me a whole lot morelike an iceberg than it does like a gold-field!"
The "Wizard" interrupted, fearing lest Jim should make some roughrejoinder.
"It looks like an easy landing-place and that's one good thing," hesaid, cheerfully. "The Captain, here, has been making soundings andsays there is good holding ground."
"That's all I will say, though," put in the yachtsman. "It's not aharbor. You're exposed here to every wind that blows!"
"You mean I'd have to build a breakwater?" Owens queried.
"Probably, if you want smooth water for handling cargoes. But I doubtif you could manage it. The winter ice would chew your breakwater allto bits. There's five months of open water, anyway, and the summermonths are not so stormy."
"I wouldn't try to build a breakwater!" Owens burst out. "How would Iget men and materials up here?"
The "Wizard" winked at Jim, who was growing restive.
"Wait till we get Owens ashore and start on the gold," he whispered."I've seen these backers get cold feet before, when they hit thisnorthern country for the first time. They're the worst to hold back,often, after they once get going."
But Jim was thoroughly dissatisfied. There was more than a littlelikelihood that the old prospector would make some scornful remark,for he was in his own land now, and had all a "sour-dough's" contemptfor a "tenderfoot." But Jameine's hand was on his arm and he obeyedthe warning pressure.
The little motor-launch was lowered from the davits, with every memberof the party aboard. None of the sailors was taken, for Jim did notwant to run any risk of strangers taking up claims. The "Wizard" ranthe engine, and the yacht
sman took the helm.
One piece of mechanism, small but very heavy, was lowered into theboat. It sank her low in the water, but it belonged to the "Wizard"and he was not the kind of man whose acts any one would question.Picks, shovels, sledge-hammers, wedges, and dynamite were included inthe cargo. Thus heavily loaded, the boat reached the shore, Jimpointing out the landing-place. It was not so easy to land as theWizard had suggested. It was necessary to wade through the sponge-ice,churned up the shore, Jameine being carried in the huge arms of the,"Wizard."
The snow on the island was almost knee-deep, but, except Owens, noneof the party minded. Jameine was the gayest of all.
"Lead on to the millions, Uncle Jim!" she cried.
But the old prospector made the girl take his arm.
"We'll git there fust, together!" he declared.
A few minutes tramping brought them to a depression in the snow.
"Here's the old glory-hole (an open pit, not a shaft), an' nobody'sbeen here!" he announced triumphantly. He grabbed pickaxe and shoveland slithered in, with the confidence of a man who knew every inch ofthe ground.
A few scoops of the shovel cleared away the snow.
Below, though overgrown with dry weeds of many seasons' growing, werethe infallible signs of human handiwork. Even the old sluice wasthere, though fallen to pieces.
The others crowded around the glory-hole. The moment of test had come.
"Here, 'Wizard'," said Jim, when he had exposed the workings, "there'swhere I was pannin' last. Jump in an' take a look."
The expert, despite his years, leaped in lightly. He took the pickfrom Jim's hand, and, with a few vigorous strokes, loosened some ofthe gravel. He scrutinized it carefully, first with the naked eye, andthen with a strong pocket lens.
"Well?" asked Jim, impatiently.
"Where are the other prospects?" The "Wizard's" kindly tone hadvanished. He was now a mining expert, at his work. Personalities hadfaded. Geological questions, only, had weight.
Silently Jim led him up the slope, Jameine and Clem following.
Despite the veiling snow, the old prospector located hole after holewith unfailing accuracy, until seven had been found and examined. Thelast one was half-way up the cliff.
At each prospect the "Wizard" loosened a small handful of gravel,examined it carefully and put it in a small buckskin bag, pencillingeach bag in order. His expression changed not at all; he bore the trueWestern "poker face."
"What overlies this gravel?" he asked abruptly.
"Slate," said Jim.
"Let's see it!"
They climbed upwards.
On arriving at the stratum which lay above the gravel, dipping downat a sharp slope, the expert examined carefully the carbonaceous slateof which it was composed.
"We'll go back, now," he said at last.
But he expressed no opinion.
"What do you think of it, Mr. Juneau?" queried Owens, when the fourclimbers returned to the glory-hole. His tone seemed to suggest thathe half hoped for an unfavorable answer.
"I'll tell you presently," was the non-committal answer.
Then he turned to the prospector.
"Show me that lignite outcrop, now!"
"Kick the snow away with your feet!" answered Jim, curtly.
Every one kicked vigorously. Under the snow was a thin layer of soil,and, below that, not more than two inches beneath the surface, was thebrown-black gleam of a low-grade lignite. Owens broke off a piece fromthe outcrop and his expression cleared slightly. Certainly Jim'sstatement about the coal was justified, though it was of too low-gradea quality to be worth exportation; possibly his story about the goldmight prove to be true, also.
Then the "Wizard," still without a word which might be construedeither as hopeful or as discouraging, brought from the boat the heavypiece of machinery. He fitted it with a handle and bade Otto turn. Themachine proved to be a small but very powerful crushing-mill, sodevised that the hardest quartz could be ground to powder by hand.Besides which, it contained within itself, some modern devices forseparating out the gold.
Bag after bag of the decisive seven was poured in, ground to dust, andpassed through the separating riffles. Each of these riffles had aself-cleaning device. The expert weighed the gravel before grinding,weighed the scrapings of the riffles, and made careful notes on theresults of each batch. All was done in utter silence.
Jim, the true prospector, who had often seen wealth or poverty decidedby the twirl of a pan, stood immovable. If he were worried, he did notshow it. Jameine, on the other hand, was trembling and white.
At last, the "Wizard," note-book in hand, turned to give his decision.
"Judging from a direct crushing and separating process, without theuse of mercury," he said, "this gravel ought to give aboutsix-dollars'-worth of gold to the ton. With mercury, perhaps two orthree more dollars' worth can be extracted, and another couple ofdollars by cyaniding. The gravel is soft and can be hydraulicked,during the summer. The gold is coarse and easy to separate. The quartzpebbles will yield more than enough to be worth crushing, but just howmuch is indeterminate.
"That's not rich! By itself, or in the interior, the deposit might notbe worth working. But with lignite right on the ground, to make steamboth for running the machinery and for steam thawing points, and witha pumping plant using heated sea water for hydraulicking, there oughtto be a net profit of about three dollars a ton."
The news was received in silence, each voyager occupied with his ownviewpoint of the decision.
Clem was the first to speak.
"We've come a long way to get three dollars!" said he, with an attemptat jocularity.
Anton grinned assent. Like Clem, he knew nothing about gold-mining.
Otto waited, well aware that the final result lay between Owens,Juneau and Jim.
It was Jameine, with her book-knowledge of mining, who put the vitalquestion.
"How many tons do you estimate there may be in the deposit, Mr.Juneau?"
"Impossible to say, exactly, especially when the island is maskedunder snow. But the prospects have been carefully chosen. They suggestabout four hundred thousand tons in sight, and probably a good dealmore. The gravel is an early Tertiary deposit, lying between two bedsof carbonaceous slate, the lower of which is lignitic. Judging fromthe strike of the beds, the gold-bearing gravel runs down under thesea."
"Then," said the girl, slowly, "if there are four hundred thousandtons in sight, which would yield a net profit of three dollars a ton,you figure on over a million dollars, clear?"
"If modern machinery is put in and the mine is run on a businessbasis, I should say at least that. Possibly more!"
There was a burst of excited exclamations from all sides.
Every one turned to Jim, who was looking out across the sea towardAlaska.
"Bull, old pardner," he said softly, "I reckon I've made good for yourlittle gal!"
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