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Updated: June 29, 2025
He stood up now, surveying the blue lit glassite room with its low ceiling close overhead. He was bow-legged; in movement he seemed to roll with a stiff-legged gait like some sea captains of former days on the deck of his swaying ship. Odd looking figure! Heavy flannel shirt and trousers, boots heavily weighted, and bulky metal-loaded belt strapped about his waist. He grinned at Swenson.
It was decided that only the eatables be carried away on the first trip, and that if a second trip was possible before dawn the clothing, canvas, and cordage that had been taken from the water might then be purloined. Miller and Swenson were detailed to bring up the rear with Miss Harding, assisting her up the steep side of the cliff.
"Get out your glasses and tell me who they are." Swenson unslung his field-glasses and studied the party attentively. "Looks like Van Horne's sorrel in the lead, and that bald-face bay just behind looks like the one Gregg rides. The other two I don't seem to know." "Perhaps it's the sheriff after me for harboring Edwards," suggested Cavanagh. But Swenson remained sober.
He was still busy with this congenial task when a tremendous splash at his side sent him under again; and, rising for a second time, he observed with not a little chagrin that he had been joined by a young man in a blue flannel suit with an invisible stripe. "Svensk!" exclaimed Mr. Swenson, or whatever it is that natives of Sweden exclaim in moments of justifiable annoyance.
Down by the salvage Theriere, Byrne, Bony Sawyer, Red Sanders, Blanco, and Wison were selecting the goods that they wished to carry with them. It was found that two trips would be necessary to carry off the bulk of the rations, so Theriere sent the mucker to summon Miller and Swenson.
Matt noticed this and decided that should the Old Man ever bawl for him he would come running too. "Mr. Swenson, you have a chief mate's license, have you not?" "Yes, sir." "Very well. You're the first mate. Mr. Lindstrom" turning to the bosun "you've waited a year for your chance, and here it is. You're the second mate. Bosun!" He was looking straight at Matt Peasley as he spoke.
Swenson brought verbal messages, it was true, but they were by no means tender, for Cavanagh knew better than to intrust any fragile vessel of sentiment to this stalwart young woodsman. Now that Lee knew the mysterious old man was dying, she longed for his release for his release would mean her lover's release.
Sam, ignorant of this, attempted to do the job with clenched fist, which he brought down as smartly as possible on the crown of the other's Derby hat. It was the worst thing he could have done. Mr. Swenson thought highly of his hat and this brutal attack upon it confirmed his gloomiest apprehensions.
Lize did not flutter a kerchief or wave a hand, but when Swenson stopped the carriage at the bridge she said: "No, you don't! I'm going across. I'm going to see Ross, and if he needs help, I'm going to roll up my sleeves and take hold." Cavanagh saw her advancing, and, as she came near enough for his voice to reach her, he called out: "Don't come any closer! Stop, I tell you!" His voice was stern.
Divine, shin up them cliffs back o' the cove an' search fer water an' a site fer camp the rest o' us'll have our hands full with the salvage." "Good," agreed Theriere. "Miller, you and Swenson will accompany Mr. Divine."
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