The Argosy, Christmas 1912 — page 42: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

28 “No. But I know where England is. It is a country where they have a woman ruler.”’ “Not now,” I answered, my amaze- ment growing every second. “ The queen is dead. There is a king in Eng- land now.” The information did not seem to affect him in any way. He walked to the bear again and felt its fur. “Good coat,” he commented. ‘““ Make me a good coat.”’ Up to this time Ordway had said not a word. He had stood staring at the islander with eyés that expressed as much astonishment as I felt. He spoke at last. . ‘My friend,” he said, “on that ice we just left we have many things that. will be of use here while we stay. We have guns, clothing, furs, cooking utensils, articles from our motor-yacht which was crushed in the ice. Have you a boat?” “Boat? Wait.” He stopped inside the cabin and brought out a book. ‘“ Boat,” he repeated, and turned the leaves. “Oh, Iknow. I have not got a boat. I have a—a—what is it now ?-a—cat —a cat—” , “A catboat?”’ I asked, feeling hope well up within me. ‘No, no boat. A cat—” .~ “A catamaran?” asked Ordway, whose experiences in hot seas led him to think of this. The man nodded gravely. _ “That is it. Where is this ice? ” “That way,” I said, pointing. “Come.” There was neither fear nor welcome in his manner. We looked in vain for any evidence that others lived with this strange being. So far as could be seen he was alone, king of the part of the world he inhabited, with no subjects. We followed at his bidding. He took us to a small, but well-sheltered bay. A hook of land ran out on the north side, and curved down, leaving on the south an opening. In this bay was moored THE ARGOSY. the strangest looking craft I had ever beheld. : I had seen the proas of the Philip- pines, the outrigged sailing craft of the Malays, the casco, the junks of the Chinese, the canoe dugout, the walrus- hide fishing-boats of the Innuits, every kind of odd craft known, but none like this, for it was the only one of its sort in the world. First of all, it was a raft. Logs had been laid fore and aft, and then cross- wise, till the top of the pile was about a foot above the water. Then on each side an outrigger log ran the length of it, and at one end, the bow, there were two poles, one on each side, between which was stretched a sail of skins. Aft on the logs there was a bench- seat, and resting in a fork of a trimmed tree lay a long pole for steering. Running before the wind, the thing could be sailed by a baby. But the yachtsman who won the international cup through excellent seamanship couldn’t handle that craft any other way. There was no change possible in the position of the sail. Yet, if the islander ever left his shores aboard his craft he must have a way of getting back again. _ The surface of the raft was large enough to hold everything we had on the berg. “Will you sail us to the ice?” I asked. “I can handle a boat—the or- dinary kind of boat—but I don’t think either of us can do justice to this type.” “Yes,” he said simply. ‘“ Come. Show me where is this ice.” There was a breeze, and as the is- lander untied the skin-rope with which his ocean monarch was moored we floated lazily out of the bay; and, with a dexterity and a knowledge of wind and tide that knocked me silly, he took that crazy aggregation of logs straight to the berg, or, rather, what was left of it. Ordway let out a yell of joy as he leaped up on the ice. “Everything is all right, Dag,” he said. “ Now, indeed, we are in luck.” CoOMmicbook CO