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Updated: June 8, 2025
A little before dawn on the eighteenth day of the work upon the beach, Lund was out upon the floe examining the condition of the ice. He had declared that two days more of hard endeavor would complete their labors. What dirt remained at the end of that time they would transship. Rainey had joined the girl and Tamada at the cook fires.
He had always sensed depths in Tamada's reserve, he remembered bits of his talk, the "certain circumstances" that he had mentioned. It looked plausible. Lund rose. "I'll fix Tamada," he said. But the girl stopped him. "You don't know that's true. Tamada has been wonderful to me. What do you intend to do with him?" "I'll make up my mind between here and the galley," said Lund grimly.
Got better in San Francisco for a bit. Then Carlsen prescribed it. Morphine was my boss, an' then Carlsen, he was boss of the morphine. Seemed like seemed like More brandy, Tamada." His voice was weaker when he spoke again. They came closer to catch his whispers. "Carlsen mind wasn't my own. Peggy I wasn't in my right mind, honey.
Out of the bloody mask of his face his agate eyes twinkled at Rainey with a sort of good-natured malice. Rainey did not answer as he poured the liquor. "Make it four finger," exclaimed Lund. "Deming's goin' to faint. One for Doc Tamada." The Japanese excused himself, helping Deming, worn out with pain and consumed by baffled hate, forward through the galley corridor.
"Keep quiet as you can," said Tamada. Something in his voice made the skipper shift his look to the Japanese. "Where's Carlsen?" he asked again. "He can't come now," said Tamada. Under the urge of the drug the skipper's brain seemed abnormally clear, his intuition heightened. "Carlsen's dead?" he asked. Then, shifting to Lund. "You killed him, Jim?" Lund nodded.
They would be asked about the purpose of the voyage, the crew examined. It might mean detention, the defeat of the expedition, the very thing that Lund had feared, the following of them to the island. He wondered how Lund would take to the plan. He found that Tamada had administered the morphine. Already the beneficial results were apparent.
Watch me discard that spoon for a knife an' fork. I don't have to play blind man enny longer." Food did not appeal to Rainey. He could not help thinking of the spot under the cloth where Tamada had wiped up the blood of the man just killed by Lund, sitting opposite him, making play for a double helping of victuals.
"All hands on deck, clean an' neatly dressed to stand by. An' see yore behavior fits the occasion. Deming, you'll turn out, too. No malingerin'." It was plain that the news of the captain's death was known to them. They showed no surprise. Rainey was sure that Tamada had not mentioned it. It had leaked out through the grape-vine telegraphy of all ships.
Carlsen's gun again assumed proper proportions. Lund might not be afraid of it, but Rainey was, very frankly. He should have snatched it from the cabin cushions. But Tamada? He could not dismiss Tamada as an important factor. There was no question to Rainey but that Tamada was, by caste, above his position as sealer's cook.
You can bury That when you come back." He nodded at the sodden corpse of Deming, flung up on the grit. "You can take yore pay as grave-diggers out of what you owe him at poker. He ain't goin' to collect this trip." Rainey, lame and sore, helped Tamada patch up the wounded, turning the hunters' quarters into a sick bay, using the table for operation.
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