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Updated: May 27, 2025
"Oh," said Pierrette, "doesn't it seem like a year since we were here this morning?" Mother Meraut called out a cheerful greeting to Madame Coudert. "Still in your place, I see," she said. "Like the Pyramids," came the calm answer; and, cheered by her fortitude, they hurried on their way to the little house in the Rue Charly. Mother Meraut sighed with relief as she unlocked the door.
"Did you hear anything outside?" he asked. "It would be the Kamtchadales," said Wyllard. "They went back a mile or two to lay some traps." "Then," said Wyllard, decisively, "it couldn't have been anything." Charly did not appear satisfied, and it seemed to Wyllard that Overweg was also listening, but there was deep stillness outside now, and he dismissed the matter from his mind.
Then, if it's necessary, Charly and I and another man will take the sled and head for the beach across the ice. If there's a lane anywhere I would, however, probably take the smallest boat. We might haul her a league or two, anyway, on the sled if the ice wasn't very rough." He looked at Charly, who acquiesced. "Well," Charly observed simply, "I guess I'll have to see you through.
Now, when winter was close at hand, they had leagues of surf-swept beach to search for three men who might have perished twelve months earlier. "We'll stand in until we pick up the beach," he said at length; "then if there's no sign of them we'll push north as long as we can find open water. Now if you'll call Charly I'll let up at the wheel."
We could talk to them, and one of them told us about a schooner lying in an inlet by a settlement. The Russians had brought her there from the islands, and she must have been a sealer. Jake figured it was just possible we might run away with her and push across for the Aleutians or Alaska." Charly looked up suddenly. "She was a sealer Hayson's Seminole.
In another few minutes he seemed to sink into sleep, and Dampier, who went up on deck, paced to and fro awhile before he stopped by the wheel and turned to the helmsman. "You can let her come up a couple of points. We may as well make a little southing while we can," he said. Charly, who was steering, looked up with suggestive eagerness. "Then he's not going for the Aleutians?"
There was no doubt as to what would happen if the frail craft was hurled upon that frozen mass, and Wyllard, who was sculling, fancied that before the boat could even reach it, there was a probability of her being swamped in the upheaval where the backwash met the oncoming sea. Charly looked at him dubiously. "It's a sure thing we can't get out there," Charly observed. Wyllard nodded.
They had but one strip of rubber sheeting between them and the snow, for the water had gotten into the sleeping bags. Their clothes dried upon them with the heat of their bodies. They said nothing for a while, and Wyllard was half asleep when Charly spoke. "I've been thinking about that boat," he remarked. "Though I don't know that we could have done it, we ought to have tried to pull her out."
We thought of our hospital, of our supplies, of our perfect uselessness unless Soissons could yet reach us and I resolved to go down to the druggist at Charly and see what could be done. The following morning, Saturday, the twenty-ninth I betook myself to Charly and there managed to beg the elements of a rudimentary infirmary from the old pharmacist, who must have thought me crazy.
After what Overweg had once or twice told him, it was unthinkable that they should fall into Smirnoff's hands. Lewson and Charly melted away into the darkness. Wyllard and the Siwash walked quietly down to the water's edge, a little up-stream of the schooner, as the stream was running strong.
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