The half-light became dawn, and then full day. She stayed with the pilot until seven o’clock; then her father came to relieve her, and they breakfasted. She lay down and slept for a time after that; when she got up at noon and came to see how Ross was getting on she found that he was sleeping naturally and lightly. He had turned over in his sleep.
Alix said: “What about trying to wake him again now, Daddy?”
Her father said: “If you like. Perhaps it would be better, if he’s going to sleep at all to-night.”
The girl knelt down by the bed, and took one of the pilot’s hands in her own. Then she leaned across him, and with her other hand began to wipe his face with a cold sponge. In a few moments he stirred, and opened his eyes.
He raised himself upon one elbow, still holding her hand, and looked her full in the face. “This is a good country,” he said earnestly, “better than Greenland. I will ask Leif to let us stay here when the ship goes back, and you shall have your children here.”
There was a momentary silence.
The girl forced a laugh. “Wake up, Mr. Ross,” she said, a little tremulously. “You’re still asleep.” She passed the sponge over his face again.
He turned his face away, and stared at the tent wall. “Did you say I’d been asleep?” he said after a time.
Lockwood said: “You certainly have.”
There was a long, pregnant silence. The man lay motionless and silent, raised upon one elbow. At last he said: “You’re Miss Alix, aren’t you?” There was a world of disappointment in his voice.
The girl said in a low tone: “I’m Alix, Mr. Ross.”
He glanced down at the hand that he was still holding in his own, and laughed shortly. “I don’t know why we’re doing this, Miss Alix.”
She coloured a little, and withdrew her hand. The pilot rubbed his eyes. “I’m sorry if I overslept, sir. What’s the time?”
The don said: “It’s about twelve o’clock.”
Ross said quietly: “I’m sorry. If you wouldn’t mind, Miss Alix … I’ll get up.”
She said: “Don’t do that, Mr. Ross. Not just yet. You’ve not been very well. It’s twelve o’clock, but you’ve missed a day. You’ve been asleep for thirty-six hours.”
He stared at her. “More like three weeks, you mean.”
The girl shot a swift glance at her father.
“Stay quiet in bed for a bit, anyway,” she said. “You’re not too fit.”
He rubbed a hand across his eyes again. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I don’t know what I meant by talking of three weeks. How long did you say I’d been asleep?”
“Thirty-six hours.”
They became aware of Ajago in the tent door, beaming all over his face. “One is awake,” he said in Danish. “I told you so.” The last part of his sentence was familiar to the don by that time, and needed no interpretation.
The Eskimo left them and began bustling about the fire; when Alix went out a few minutes later she found him warming up some soup. She took it into the tent and gave it to the pilot to drink. He took it obediently, but spoke very little; when he did speak he was evidently still confused. Presently Lockwood motioned to his daughter, and they moved a short way from the tents.
“I’m not going to stay here any longer,” he said directly. “We’ll go back to Julianehaab to-morrow—for a time, at any rate.”
The girl nodded. “That’s the best thing to do. We can get the doctor there, if we still want one.”
“Of course we do. We must get somebody to have a look at him, after a bout like this.”
The girl said: “How are you going to get him to Julianehaab, Daddy?”
“He’ll have to come in the motor boat with us.”
“Leaving the seaplane here?”
“Yes. He can come back and fetch it when he’s well again.”
She looked very doubtful. “I don’t believe you’ll get him to do that.”
“Well, he can’t fly it in his present state.”
“He won’t take kindly to the idea of leaving it behind. You know he won’t.”
They discussed this for some time, and came to no conclusion beyond the bare decision to get back to Julianehaab as soon as possible. Presently Lockwood said: “Of course, he may be better in the morning. He’s bound to be a bit confused at first, I suppose.”
He mused for a moment. “It was a very odd thing, what he said when he woke up. Did you notice that?”
She said very shortly: “Yes, I did.” She had no intention whatever of discussing that matter with her father. She thought he should have had more sense.
The don was immersed in his own trend of thought. “I’m sure he said Leif. You heard that, too?”
She was a little surprised. “Yes—he did say some name like Leif.”
Her father said: “That’s very curious, you know. It’s not as if Leif was a common name.”
She did not answer him, being determined to change the subject and avoid discussion of what Ross had said. Instead, she suggested that they should walk over to the seaplane, which they could see standing upon the sand across the inlet.
They found the machine in good order; the rise of tide had not disturbed it. When they got back to the camp, an hour later, Ross was up and dressed. He was much more himself. Alix went over to the fire to make tea; Ross walked a little way aside with Lockwood.
“I don’t know what to say about this, sir,” he said. “I really am exceedingly sorry.”
The don smiled. “There’s nothing to be sorry about. You’ve been working a bit too hard.”
The pilot nodded. “I suppose that’s the truth of it. It’s not been very easy to get all the sleep one wanted, this last fortnight.”
“I know—you’ve had a very heavy time. By the way, Mr. Ross. I’ve got those tablets you’ve been taking. I think I’ll keep them for a bit.”
Ross smiled wryly. “I was wondering what had become of them. All right, sir—I expect they’re better with you than with me. I don’t suppose they really do one any good.”
“I don’t suppose they do. Look, Mr. Ross—I’ve decided to go back to Julianehaab. I’m going to stay there for a week at least. We’re all tired out, and we all need rest. I’m going to stop all work now for a week, and then we’ll see how fit we are to come back here again. As a matter of fact, the survey’s practically finished. I should be quite content to go home now and study the air photographs, and come back next year with a digging party.”
The pilot thought about it for a minute. “I see. You want to go back to Julianehaab right away?”
“That’s quite definite, Mr. Ross.”
The pilot said: “All right, sir. If you don’t want to come back here, we can finish the survey in a couple of flights from Julianehaab. If we’re going to do that, I’ll fly the machine back to-morrow and you can go with Miss Lockwood in the motor boat—unless you’d rather come with me. That would be better. There’s no point in you sitting in the boat for all that time.”
The don hesitated. “One of us should stay with Ajago. As a matter of fact, I want you to come back with us in the motor boat, Mr. Ross. You can come over and fetch the machine later on.”
Ross stared at him. “I can’t do that, Mr. Lockwood. We can’t leave the seaplane here.”
The other faced him. “That’s what I want to do, Mr. Ross.”
“But why, sir?”
“I don’t want you to fly again until you’ve had a good long rest.”
The pilot’s lips set mulishly. “I’m quite all right. If you think I’m not, sir, then I’d rather stay on here for a few days. But I’m not going to leave that seaplane here and go away, when I’m responsible for it. We paid over twenty-five thousand dollars for that seaplane, sir. You can’t leave that amount of money blowing round the wilderness.”
They argued the point for a few minutes; the don found the pilot courteous but entirely stubborn. “With every respect, sir,” he said, “I know when I’m fit to fly and wh
en I’m not. I don’t want to break my bloody neck any more than you want to see me break it. But I’m not going to leave that seaplane out here and go back to Julianehaab.”
They reached a complete deadlock, abandoned the discussion without quarrelling, and had tea. The meal finished, Ross insisted on walking over to the other cove to examine the machine himself; he took Ajago with him to assist in shoring up the floats, if that were necessary. Lockwood and Alix stayed behind in the camp; he told her the substance of their discussion.
She nodded. “I knew he’d take it like that. What are you going to do, Daddy?”
“I don’t know. He’s in a very nervous state. If we did stay here for a few days doing nothing, I don’t believe he’d rest. He’d always be fussing round his aeroplane.”
She fully agreed with her father. “He’d be much better back at Julianehaab under the doctor’s eye. You’ll have to let him fly it back.”
“He might faint in the air, and kill himself. It’s not a thing to be decided lightly.”
She bit her lip. “I don’t see what else we can do. If he stays here he’ll only make himself ill again. Look how he’s gone off now.”
They stared across the water to the other cove, where Ross and Ajago were busy with the seaplane.
“It’s a devil,” said Lockwood. “Whatever we decided to do may turn out wrong.”
An hour later the pilot returned. Alix went out to meet him on the hill.
“Good evening, Mr. Ross,” she said. “How are you feeling now?”
In the calm evening light he stopped by her. “I’m right enough, Miss Alix,” he said quietly. “Still, I think it’s a good idea for us to go back to Julianehaab for a bit. It’ll give us time to sort things out.”
She nodded. “Daddy wants to make a start early to-morrow morning. You’re going to fly the seaplane back, aren’t you?”
The pilot glanced at her. “That’s what I was planning to do. But Mr. Lockwood didn’t seem to think that was a very good idea.”
She smiled. “Don’t worry, Mr. Ross—I’ve had a talk with him, and he’s coming round. Let me have another word with him. It’s the only thing to do, for you to fly it back. If you’re going to do that, I’d like to come too.”
He said: “Of course, Miss Alix. There’s no point in you sitting in the boat for all those hours.”
They turned and walked back to the camp. Ross went into his tent; the girl went and found her father. “I’ve been talking to Mr. Ross, Daddy,” she said. “You’ll have to let him fly the seaplane back to-morrow—he’ll never agree to leave it here.”
The don said: “I suppose he won’t.”
“I told him I’d go back in it with him. You won’t mind going alone with Ajago?”
He was silent for a minute. Then he said quietly: “You’re all I’ve got now, Alix. I want you to feel that your life is your own property. But—don’t go and chuck it away.”
She nodded gravely. “He must have someone with him,” she said. “It’s been our expedition, Daddy, and it’s our fault that he’s got into this state.”
They understood each other perfectly. “You must do as you think best,” he said, a little heavily. “If you want to go with him, I wouldn’t stand in your way.”
They spent the evening packing up the stores and photographic gear and loading them into the boat, in readiness for an early start. They went to bed early. From time to time throughout the night Lockwood woke and raised himself to look at the pilot; each time he found him awake, lying upon his back, staring at the tent cloth. When dawn came and they got up, he said:
“Did you sleep at all?”
Ross answered: “I think I may have done. Anyway, I’m all right, sir.”
Conveniently, the tide was high at about eight o’clock. They struck their camp and loaded everything into the boat; then they motored over to the other cove. It took their united efforts to launch the seaplane down to the water again on greased timbers laid beneath the floats, but after an hour of heavy work she floated. Ross and Alix got into the cabin, and the motor boat towed the machine from the cove out into the fiord. Then they started the engine, and cast off.
Lockwood stood tensely watching from the boat. The seaplane taxied a little way away and headed into wind. The engine roared out, the white feathery spray flew sideways from the floats and she made a perfect take-off, circled around, and took a direct line for Julianehaab.
The don relaxed. “Get along now,” he said to Ajago. “As quickly as you can.”
Three-quarters of an hour later the seaplane swept over Julianehaab in a wide gliding turn, flattened out close above the surface of the harbour, and made a good landing. She lost way upon the water and came to a standstill, with the engine ticking over slowly. The pilot dropped his hands from the wheel, and turned to the girl beside him with a faint smile.
“I know why you came on this trip, Miss Alix,” he said. “I’d like to say ‘thank you’ before it gets cold.”
She said: “Don’t be absurd.”
He leaned across and slapped the trouser pocket of her overall. His touch gave her an unreasonable thrill. “What’s that bottle in your pocket?”
She said: “It’s my smelling salts, Mr. Ross.” She pulled it out and showed it to him.
“I suppose you brought that along in case you felt a little faint.” He prodded the bulge in her other pocket. “What’s this one?” He pulled it out. “Oh, I see—brandy. I suppose that was to pour over your plum pudding.”
She laughed. “I always take that with me when I travel.”
“Surely,” he said. “In case the engine-driver gets sick.”
There was a momentary silence.
“I hope I’ll never be so foolish as to fly when I’m not fit to fly,” he said. “But you couldn’t know the ins and outs of that.”
He turned the seaplane and taxied in towards the beach where he had overhauled her before leaving for Brattalid. “Tide’s falling,” he said. “If we’re going to be here for a week I’ll put her up on shore at once. Maybe we can get her right out, up above high-water mark.”
He stopped the engine, and the floats grounded on the sand. A few men came running down towards them; Alix and Ross got down on to the float and jumped on shore. An hour later the machine had been pulled safely above high-water mark and firmly pegged down.
They carried their sleeping-bags up to the house, unlocked it, and dumped them on the beds. Then Alix said:
“We’re going to see the doctor now.”
Ross hesitated. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Miss Alix.”
She said: “I do. If my father arrives to-night and finds you haven’t seen the doctor, I don’t think he’ll be very pleased. You can’t pass out for thirty-six hours and do nothing about it. Be sensible.”
He said reluctantly: “All right. When do you want to go?”
“Now.”
She walked with him to the doctor’s house and made him wait outside while she told the doctor what had happened. He listened carefully to her story. “So,” he said. “Your father has the bottle of the Troxigin? Good. I think that is a very bad drug. I will take it from him when he comes. Now, I will make examination of Herr Ross.”
Twenty minutes later he said to Ross, putting on his shirt: “For three days you stay in bed, not less. I will tell the Froken your food, but in bed you must stay. When you have learned to sleep again, we will allow you to get up.”
He called in Alix and gave her instructions about diet. Presently they were back again in the hut, Ross peevish and irritable.
“Pack of damn nonsense,” he muttered.
The strain of the work in the camp, and the strain of their relationship, had made its mark upon the girl as well as on the pilot. She said: “It’s no good going on like that, Mr. Ross. You’ve got to get to bed and stay there. I’m going up to the farm now to fetch some milk. You’d better get to bed while I’m away.”
He said irritably: “I’ll lie down after lunch.” br />
She swung round on him angrily. “Look, Mr. Ross. My father’s come here at a great expense to do a job of work. That’s all been knocked on the head now, because you’ve gone and got ill. It seems to me, the least you can do is to carry out the doctor’s orders and get well, so that my father can go on with his work.” She picked up the milk-can. “I’m going up to the farm now. While I’m away I hope you’ll have the sense to get to bed.”
She walked out of the house and slammed the door. When she came back with the milk she found the pilot had arranged his sleeping-bag upon the bench and was lying in it in pyjamas, motionless and staring at the ceiling.
Relations were a little strained between them. She gave him bread and milk for lunch, following the doctor’s orders; he ate a little of it, but soon lit a cigarette. Then, hoping that he would sleep if she left him alone, she went out and up to the governor’s house to report. She stayed there all the afternoon with the governor and his wife; they gave her coffee and little cakes to eat. In the late afternoon she went back to the house.
Ross was still lying in his bag, in practically the same position as he had been when she left him. She crossed over and sat down on the bench by him. “Sleep at all?” she asked.
He shook his head. “I don’t feel that I’ll ever want to sleep again.” Now that the strain of the work was no longer on him he felt listless, drained of all energy and initiative, but he did not want to sleep.
The girl said comfortingly: “You’ll sleep all right to-night. You get a cup of Ovaltine now, and some bread and butter.”
“I don’t want that, Miss Alix.”
She was silent for a moment. He sounded lonely and unhappy, quite different from his normal manner. It struck her then that there was more in his illness than mere physical fatigue; she was sorry that she had spoken sharply to him earlier in the day. And searching for a panacea, she said:
“When did you write to Aunt Janet last, Mr. Ross?”