Smoke Bellew by Jack London (chrome ebook reader txt) đ
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âBut vegetarians hadnât ought to get scurvy,â Shorty contended. âItâs the salt-meat-eaters thatâs supposed to fall for it. And they donât eat meat, salt or fresh, raw or cooked, or any other way.â
Smoke shook his head. âI know. And itâs vegetable diet that cures scurvy. No drugs will do it. Vegetables, especially potatoes, are the only dope. But donât forget one thing, Shorty: we are not up against a theory but a condition. The fact is these grass-eaters have all got scurvy.â
âMust be contagious.â
âNo; that the doctors do know. Scurvy is not a germ disease. It canât be caught. Itâs generated. As near as I can get it, itâs due to an impoverished condition of the blood. Its cause is not something theyâve got, but something they havenât got. A man gets scurvy for lack of certain chemicals in his blood, and those chemicals donât come out of powders and bottles, but do come out of vegetables.â
âAnâ these people eats nothinâ but grass,â Shorty groaned. âAnd theyâve got it up to their ears. That proves youâre all wrong, Smoke. Youâre spielinâ a theory, but this condition sure knocks the spots outa your theory. Scurvyâs catchinâ, anâ thatâs why theyâve all got it, anâ rotten bad at that. You anâ meâll get it too, if we hang around this digginâ. B-r-r-r!âI can feel the bugs crawlinâ into my system right now.â
Smoke laughed skeptically, and knocked on a cabin door. âI suppose weâll find the same old thing,â he said. âCome on. Weâve got to get a line on the situation.â
âWhat do you want?â came a womanâs sharp voice.
âWe want to see you,â Smoke answered.
âWho are you?â
âTwo doctors from Dawson,â Shorty blurted in, with a levity that brought a punch in the short ribs from Smokeâs elbow.
âDonât want to see any doctors,â the woman said, in tones crisp and staccato with pain and irritation. âGo away. Good night. We donât believe in doctors.â
Smoke pulled the latch, shoved the door open, and entered, turning up the low-flamed kerosene-lamp so that he could see. In four bunks four women ceased from groaning and sighing to stare at the intruders. Two were young, thin-faced creatures, the third was an elderly and very stout woman, and the fourth, the one whom Smoke identified by her voice, was the thinnest, frailest specimen of the human race he had ever seen. As he quickly learned, she was Laura Sibley, the seeress and professional clairvoyant who had organized the expedition in Los Angeles and led it to this death-camp on the Nordbeska. The conversation that ensued was acrimonious. Laura Sibley did not believe in doctors. Also, to add to her purgatory, she had wellnigh ceased to believe in herself.
âWhy didnât you send out for help?â Smoke asked, when she paused, breathless and exhausted, from her initial tirade. âThereâs a camp at Stewart River, and eighteen daysâ travel would fetch Dawson from here.â
âWhy didnât Amos Wentworth go?â she demanded, with a wrath that bordered on hysteria.
âDonât know the gentleman,â Smoke countered. âWhatâs he been doing?â
âNothing. Except that heâs the only one that hasnât caught the scurvy. And why hasnât he caught the scurvy? Iâll tell you. No, I wonât.â The thin lips compressed so tightly that through the emaciated transparency of them Smoke was almost convinced he could see the teeth and the roots of the teeth. âAnd what would have been the use? Donât I know? Iâm not a fool. Our caches are filled with every kind of fruit juice and preserved vegetables. We are better situated than any other camp in Alaska to fight scurvy. There is no prepared vegetable, fruit, and nut food we havenât, and in plenty.â
âSheâs got you there, Smoke,â Shorty exulted. âAnd itâs a condition, not a theory. You say vegetables cures. Hereâs the vegetables, and whereâs the cure?â
âThereâs no explanation I can see,â Smoke acknowledged. âYet there is no camp in Alaska like this. Iâve seen scurvyâa sprinkling of cases here and there; but I never saw a whole camp with it, nor did I ever see such terrible cases. Which is neither here nor there, Shorty. Weâve got to do what we can for these people, but first weâve got to make camp and take care of the dogs. Weâll see you in the morning, erâMrs. Sibley.â
âMISS Sibley,â she bridled. âAnd now, young man, if you come fooling around this cabin with any doctor stuff Iâll fill you full of birdshot.â
âThis divine seeress is a sweet one,â Smoke chuckled, as he and Shorty felt their way back through the darkness to the empty cabin next to the one they had first entered.
It was evident that two men had lived until recently in the cabin, and the partners wondered if they werenât the two suicides down the trail. Together they overhauled the cache and found it filled with an undreamed-of variety of canned, powdered, dried, evaporated, condensed, and desiccated foods.
âWhat in the name of reason do they want to go and get scurvy for?â Shorty demanded, brandishing to the light packages of egg-powder and Italian mushrooms. âAnd look at that! And that!â He tossed out cans of tomatoes and corn and bottles of stuffed olives. âAnd the divine steeress got the scurvy, too. What dâye make of it?â
âSeeress,â Smoke corrected.
âSteeress,â Shorty reiterated. âDidnât she steer âem here to this hole in the ground?â
Next morning, after daylight, Smoke encountered a man carrying a heavy sled-load of firewood. He was a little man, clean-looking and spry, who walked briskly despite the load. Smoke experienced an immediate dislike.
âWhatâs the matter with you?â he asked.
âNothing,â the little man answered.
âI know that,â Smoke said. âThatâs why I asked you. Youâre Amos Wentworth. Now why under the sun havenât you the scurvy like all the rest?â
âBecause Iâve exercised,â came the quick reply. âThere wasnât any need for any of them to get it if theyâd only got out and done something. What did they do? Growled and kicked and grouched at the cold, the long nights, the hardships, the aches and pains and everything else. They loafed in their beds until they swelled up and couldnât leave them, thatâs all. Look at me. Iâve worked. Come into my cabin.â
Smoke followed him in.
âSquint around. Clean as a whistle, eh? You bet. Everything shipshape. I wouldnât keep those chips and shavings on the floor except for the warmth, but theyâre clean chips and shavings. You ought to see the floor in some of the shacks. Pig-pens. As for me, I havenât eaten a meal off an unwashed dish. No, sir. It meant work, and Iâve worked, and I havenât the scurvy. You can put that in your pipe and smoke it.â
âYouâve hit the nail on the head,â Smoke admitted. âBut I see youâve only one bunk. Why so unsociable?â
âBecause I like to be. Itâs easier to clean up for one than two, thatâs why. The lazy blanket-loafers! Do you think that I could have stood one around? No wonder they got scurvy.â
It was very convincing, but Smoke could not rid himself of his dislike of the man.
âWhatâs Laura Sibley got it in for you for?â he asked abruptly.
Amos Wentworth shot a quick look at him. âSheâs a crank,â was the reply. âSo are we all cranks, for that matter. But Heaven save me from the crank that wonât wash the dishes that he eats off of, and thatâs what this crowd of cranks are like.â
A few minutes later, Smoke was talking with Laura Sibley. Supported by a stick in either hand, she had paused in hobbling by his cabin.
âWhat have you got it in for Wentworth for?â he asked, apropos of nothing in the conversation and with a suddenness that caught her off her guard.
Her green eyes flashed bitterly, her emaciated face for the second was convulsed with rage, and her sore lips writhed on the verge of unconsidered speech. But only a splutter of gasping, unintelligible sounds issued forth, and then, by a terrible effort, she controlled herself.
âBecause heâs healthy,â she panted. âBecause he hasnât the scurvy. Because he is supremely selfish. Because he wonât lift a hand to help anybody else. Because heâd let us rot and die, as he is letting us rot and die, without lifting a finger to fetch us a pail of water or a load of firewood. Thatâs the kind of a brute he is. But let him beware! Thatâs all. Let him beware!â
Still panting and gasping, she hobbled on her way, and five minutes afterward, coming out of the cabin to feed the dogs, Smoke saw her entering Amos Wentworthâs cabin.
âSomething rotten here, Shorty, something rotten,â he said, shaking his head ominously, as his partner came to the door to empty a pan of dish-water.
âSure,â was the cheerful rejoinder. âAnâ you anâ meâll be catchinâ it yet. Youâll see.â
âI donât mean the scurvy.â
âOh, sure, if you mean the divine steeress. Sheâd rob a corpse. Sheâs the hungriest-lookinâ female I ever seen.â
âExercise has kept you and me in condition, Shorty. Itâs kept Wentworth in condition. You see what lack of exercise has done for the rest. Now itâs up to us to prescribe exercise for these hospital wrecks. It will be your job to see that they get it. I appoint you chief nurse.â
âWhat? Me?â Shorty shouted. âI resign.â
âNo, you donât. Iâll be able assistant, because it isnât going to be any soft snap. Weâve got to make them hustle. First thing, theyâll have to bury their dead. The strongest for the burial squad; then the next strongest on the firewood squad (theyâve been lying in their blankets to save wood); and so on down the line. And spruce-tea. Mustnât forget that. All the sourdoughs swear by it. These people have never even heard of it.â
âWe sure got ourn cut out for us,â Shorty grinned. âFirst thing we know weâll be full of lead.â
âAnd thatâs our first job,â Smoke said. âCome on.â
In the next hour, each of the twenty-odd cabins was raided. All ammunition and every rifle, shotgun, and revolver was confiscated.
âCome on, you invalids,â was Shortyâs method. âShootinâ-ironsâfork âem over. We need âem.â
âWho says so?â was the query at the first cabin.
âTwo doctors from Dawson,â was Shortyâs answer. âAnâ what they say goes. Come on. Shell out the ammunition, too.â
âWhat do you want them for?â
âTo stand off a war-party of canned beef cominâ down the canyon. And Iâm givinâ you fair warninâ of a spruce-tea invasion. Come across.â
And this was only the beginning of the day. Men were persuaded, coaxed, bullied or dragged by main strength from their bunks and forced to dress. Smoke selected the mildest cases for the burial squad. Another squad was told off to supply the wood by which the graves were burned down into the frozen muck and gravel. Still another squad had to chop firewood and impartially supply every cabin. Those who were too weak for outdoor work were put to cleaning and scrubbing the cabins and washing clothes. One squad brought in many loads of spruce-boughs, and every stove was used for the brewing of spruce-tea.
But no matter what face Smoke and Shorty put on it, the situation was grim and serious. At least thirty fearful and impossible cases could not be taken from the beds, as the two men, with nausea and horror, learned; while one, a woman, died in Laura Sibleyâs cabin. Yet strong measures were necessary.
âI donât like to wallop a sick man,â Shorty explained, his fist doubled menacingly. âBut
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