CHAPTER XXX
CAPTAIN ALAN BERTRAM
It was Alan Bertram, his long-lost brother, bronzed and bearded and changed, but the same kindly eyes beamed down on the happy Will, and the same hearty voice welcomed him.
“Will!” ejaculated the amazed Alan.
“Yes, yes, it is I, and you are alive whom we thought dead.”
Captain Bertram acted like a man stunned by an unexpected blow. He sank to a bunk—Will never releasing his grasp on his hand—and could only stare blankly at Will for some moments.
“How did you come here? It seems like a dream.”
“It is no dream, but a reality,” cried Will. “I have been seeking you for a long time. We have followed you step by step from the wreck of the Albatross.”
The sailors had crowded around them, interested and spellbound at the strange meeting.
They listened intently as, at Alan’s request, Will began the story of his adventures.
As he told of Captain Stephen Morris more than one excited and angry ejaculation interrupted him.
“The scoundrel!”
“He knew we were alive!”
These and similar expressions broke from the sailors.
At last, Will concluded his story.
As he did so Jack, Hugo, and the boys entered the room.
A cheery welcome greeted the trusty old sailors who had so faithfully guarded their young charges.
A noisy scene ensued when the sailors discussed the actions of Captain Morris, whom they had believed to be dead.
An inquiry from Jack led to Captain Bertram telling his story.
It seems that the Albatross had made a most successful voyage.
The ship had captured several whales, had a hold full of oil, and was returning, homeward bound, when adverse winds bore it into the storm area.
The Albatross was driven north and cast upon the Arctic coast.
The icebergs threatened to crush the ship, and the captain, believing they were not far out of the course of ships, determined to attempt to save the cargo.
The barrels of oil were therefore landed and piled away in a nook near the coast.
The next day the ice broke, carrying the Albatross some distance.
The ship was wrecked, but not so badly but that it afforded a temporary home for the crew.
They remained on the ship all through the rigorous winter and then started to find a settlement.
On the way Stephen Morris, scaling an ice cliff, fell into the sea.
They searched for him, but could not find him, and, giving him up for drowned, proceeded on their way.
They built the ice huts the castaways had seen, and at last, came upon a wandering tribe of Eskimo.
With them, they lived for some months. They told them of the whale-oil deposit, and several of them and the crew visited the spot.
They returned, amazed and disappointed.
The barrels of oil had disappeared. Either they had been found by some ship or, the ice melting, had floated them into the sea.
For many months the Albatross crew remained with the tribe, finally finding their way to the whaling station.
Within a day or two Captain Bertram said they would sail for home on a whaler.
This was his story, briefly told.
“And you wonder where the oil went to, Captain?” he asked, with a curious look on his face.
“Yes.”
“And you wonder how Stephen Morris got rich?”
“Ah! Then you suspect—”
“That he is a villain and a robber.”
“You have a theory?”
“A very plausible one.”
“What is it?”
“He was not drowned at all.”
“That seems certain.”
“In some way, he escaped. He found himself alone, and he remained around the ship. One day, I theorize, a ship came along.”
“That’s possible.”
“He was seen and taken aboard. They did not see the wreck of the Albatross.”
“Well?”
“He made up a false story about it being crushed in the ice and all aboard lost.”
“What for?”
“Because he wanted no witnesses against his crime.”
“What crime?”
“Robbery! He and the captain of the ship seized the oil as legally theirs and divided on it when they got into port.”
“The villain!”
“That he is, and he let you take the chances of perishing in the cold to carry out his plot.”
This seemed very plausible, and when Jack told of the sinking of the Golden Moose their rage knew no bounds.
“We’ll have him punished when we return,” they affirmed.
A bountiful breakfast was prepared for the castaways, and they and the crew of the Albatross were a happy party all that day.
Towards noon Captain Bertram led Will to a point some distance away where a ship was anchored.
“You see the ice is beginning to break and float for good,” he said. “We will sail as soon as the channel is open; probably tomorrow.”
When they returned to the depot he ordered the men to get their traps packed ready for conveying them to the ship.
They comprised, mostly, relics of their Arctic experience, and the white bear skin Jack’s party had secured was not forgotten.
Captain Bertram got a sled ready and asked Will to aid him.
“I haven’t much baggage,” he said, “but I have one article that I have clung to through all my adventures.”
Under one of the bunks, he pointed to a barrel. It was secured in a piece of sailcloth and bore the captain’s name.
“What is it?” asked Will, curiously.
“Our fortune,” was Captain Bertram’s mysterious reply.
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