Adventure stories; Gold mines and mining -- Fiction; Love stories; Mutiny -- Fiction; Sea stories
Next to Lund he was the biggest man aboard. With the rum giving an
unusual coordination to his usually sluggish nervous system, he promised
to be a source of trouble.
Rainey was surprised to see him shrug his shoulders and lead the way to
the beach. Perhaps breakfast had sobered them, though the fumes of
liquor still clung cloudily on the air.
Lund went down, with Rainey beside him, reporting Sandy.
"I'll work it out of 'em," said Lund. "That booze'll be an expensive
luxury to 'em, paid for in hard labor."
They found the men ranged up in three groups. Deming and Beale, against
custom, had gone down to the beach. They were supposed to help clean the
food utensils, and aid Tamada after a meal, besides replenishing the
fires.
They stood a little away from the hunters and Hansen and the sailors.
The Finn, talking to his comrades in a low growl, was with a separate
group.
There was an air of defiance manifest, a feeling of suspense in the tiny
valley, backed by the frowning cone, ribbed by the two icy promontories.
Lund surveyed them sharply.
"What in hell's the matter with you?" he barked. "Hansen, send up a man
for the drills an' shovels. Yore work's laid out; hop to it!"
"We ain't goin' to work no more," said the Finn aggressively. "Not fo'
no sich wage like you give."
"Oh, you ain't, ain't you?" mocked Lund. He was standing with Rainey in
the middle of the space they had cleared of gravel, the seamen lower
down the beach, nearer the sea, their ranks compacted. "Why, you
booze-bitten, lousy hunky, what in hell do you want? You never saw
twenty dollars in a lump you c'u'd call yore own for more'n ten minnits.
You boardin'-house loafer an' the rest of you scum o' the seven seas,
git yore shovels an' git to diggin', or I'll put you ashore in San
Francisco flat broke, an' glad to leave the ship, at that. _Jump!_"
The Finn snarled, and the rest stood firm. Not one of them knew the real
value of their promised share. Money represented only counters exchanged
for lodging, food and drink enough to make them sodden before they had
spent even their usual wages. Then they would wake to find the rest
gone, and throw themselves upon the selfish bounty of a boarding-house
keeper.
But they had seen the gold, they had handled it, and they were inflamed
by a sense of what it ought to do for them. Perhaps half of them could
not add a simple sum, could not grasp figures beyond a thousand, at
most. And the sight of so much gold had made it, in a manner, cheap. It
was there, a heap of it, and they wanted more of that shining heap than
had been promised them.
"You talk big," said the Finn. "Look my hands." He showed palms
calloused, split, swollen lumps of chilblained flesh worn down and
stiffened. "I bin seaman, not goddam navvy."
Lund turned to the hunters.
"You in on this?" he asked. Deming and Beale moved off. Two of the
others joined them. "Neutral?" sneered Lund. "I'll remember that."
Hansen and the two remaining came over beside Lund and Rainey.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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