William Johnstone - Winter Kill

Frank and Conway climbed to their feet and stumbled over to join the captain. Frank peered over the railing, but couldn’t see anything out there except darkness. He listened, but heard nothing except the slapping of the waves.

Sailors came running with life preservers tied to thick ropes. They threw them out into the area in which Brewster had disappeared. The ship finally shuddered to a dead stop in the water as the sails were lowered. With the engines stopped, there was an eerie quiet on board, broken by the shouts of the crew as they called out to Brewster.

No response came back from the sea.

Some of the officers brought bull’s-eye lanterns to the rail and swept the beams from them over the waves. The searching and shouting went on for a good half hour before Captain Hoffman sighed and turned away from the rail, wearily shaking his head. He motioned for the other men to step back as well.

“It’s been too long,” he said. “Brewster was a good swimmer, but no man could stay afloat for this long in water that cold. He might have been knocked out when he struck the surface. He must have gone down quickly.”

Frank said, “I didn’t mean for him to go overboard.”

Hoffman shook his head again. “I know that. He wouldn’t have if he had obeyed my order and stopped fighting. His stubborn pride just wouldn’t allow him to admit defeat, either this time or the time he clashed with you before, Morgan.” Hoffman looked at Frank and added, “You may not believe this, but that quality was one of the things that made him an exceptional sailor. He never quit.”

“I reckon I can understand that. A man needs to stick to what he starts…most of the time, anyway.”

“Are you all right? Were you injured?”

“He hit me a pretty good wallop with something when he first jumped me,” Frank said. He felt of his head and found a sore, swollen lump. “There’s a little goose egg up there, but this old skull of mine is too hard to dent very easily. I’ll be fine.”

Hoffman turned to Conway. “What about you, young man?”

“I’m fine,” Conway replied. “The fella got in some good licks, but that’s all.”

“Did you see what happened?”

“I sure did. That man jumped Mr. Morgan and tried to force him over the rail.”

Frank said, “He likely would have, too, if you hadn’t pitched in when you did, Pete.”

Conway shrugged. “When I saw what was going on, I just tried to help.”

“You probably saved my life. I won’t forget that.” Frank turned back to Hoffman. “I’m sorry for the loss of your officer, Captain, but this wasn’t my fault or young Conway’s.”

Hoffman waved a hand. “No, as I said, it was Brewster’s foolish pride that caused his death. An unfortunate tragedy, but no one else is to blame.”

“I wouldn’t want anybody trying to get back at me by hurting Mrs. Devereaux or the young ladies. Any members of the crew who have a problem with me need to take it up with me.”

“There won’t be any of that,” Hoffman said firmly. “You don’t have to worry. I’ll make it clear that there are to be no repercussions.” The captain paused, then added, “I doubt if there would have been, anyway. Brewster was admired for his qualities of seamanship, but he wasn’t well liked.”

That was the impression Frank had gotten, so he wasn’t surprised by Hoffman’s words.

The captain turned to his first mate and said, “Go up to the bridge and tell the engine room to get some steam up again. The wind’s dying for the night, so we won’t raise the sails.”

“Aye, Cap’n. Ahead full, on the same bearing, once we have steam?”

“Aye,” Hoffman said. He cast one final look at the stretch of dark water where Brewster had disappeared. “We’ll be heading north again.”

The rest of the group of cheechakos had come up while the search for Brewster was going on. As the crewmen scattered to go about their tasks, the novice gold-hunters gathered around Frank and Conway. They threw questions about the fight at the two men.

“I guess this is what you meant about a life-and-death struggle, Morgan,” Neville, the man from New York, said. “That trouble came at you without any warning, and you had to deal with it. The same thing’s liable to happen to any of us in Alaska.”

“Not exactly the same thing,” Conway said. “Nobody’s going to throw us off a ship up there.”

“There are plenty of other things that can kill a man,” Frank said.

The gold-hunters talked about the fight and Brewster’s death for a while longer. Then Frank finally managed to get away from them. He motioned for Conway to follow him as he started once again toward the door leading belowdecks.

“I’m obliged to you for your help, Pete,” he said quietly. “I reckon you really did save my life.”

“I’m glad I could lend a hand, Mr. Morgan.”

“Make it Frank.”

“All right. I’m glad I could help, Frank. I didn’t really think about it. I just saw that you were in trouble.” Conway hesitated, then went on. “But if you really want to thank me…maybe you could talk one of those ladies into having a dance with me before they all have to go off to Whitehorse and get married.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Frank said.

An air of gloom hung over the ship the next morning. Brewster might not have been well liked, but his loss still affected most of the passengers and crew on board. People couldn’t help but think about how easily the sea could claim them, too, if they were unlucky enough to fall overboard.

Fiona was getting her sea legs, and since she felt better, she spend part of the time fussing over Frank. “That man could have killed you!” she told him. “I intend to speak to Captain Hoffman about this.”

“No need for that,” Frank said. “It wasn’t his fault.”

“In a way it was. He should have had better control over his crew.”

Frank couldn’t argue with that, although he wasn’t sure anybody could have controlled a stiff-necked son of a bitch like Brewster. He managed to talk Fiona out of filing an official complaint with the shipping line that owned the Montclair. He didn’t see how that would do any good.

Fiona wasn’t too receptive to the idea of the young women spending some time with Pete Conway and the other novice gold-hunters. “How do we know we can trust them?” she asked.

“Well, Pete saved my life,” Frank pointed out. “I owe him a favor.”

“And since you’re working for me, I suppose by extension, I do, too. If I still can’t talk you into becoming my partner, that is.”

Frank shook his head. “I don’t figure that would be a good idea. Once we get these gals where they’re going, I’ll have kept my promise to Jacob.”

“What about making sure I get back safely to Seattle next spring?”

Frank thought about it and nodded. “I reckon I could do that.”

“Good.” She smiled up at him. “That gives me all winter in Skagway to change your mind about, how do you Westerners say it, throwing in with me. I can be quite persuasive, you know.”

Frank didn’t doubt that for a second.

Fiona went on. “And as far as having some sort of little…get-together…with those prospectors, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt anything.”

Frank smiled. “Good. I’ll tell Pete.”

“But I’m holding you responsible for their good behavior,” Fiona warned. “If they get out of line, I’m counting on you to put a stop to it.”

A short time later, Pete Conway let out an excited whoop when Frank told him about Fiona’s decision. “One of the fellows plays the fiddle,” he said. “We can have a regular dance, right here on the deck of the ship!”

“Just make sure they all understand that they can’t try anything improper.”