The Great Alone Read Online Free PDF Page B

they searched for another place to land.
    By nightfall there was considerable grumbling among the promyshleniki. The supply of fresh water was down to one last keg. As men will do, they began to talk about their missed chances, the things that should have been done differently. If they had stopped at the first island initially … If they had captured a native and taken him hostage … If . Shekhurdin’s name was mentioned as frequently as Chuprov’s.
    Shortly after dawn the following day, Luka was assigned to a landing party in case his skill at sign communication would be needed. This time the party was headed by Shekhurdin.
    The winds were strong, sweeping down the craggy mountains in powerful gusts, whipping over Luka’s bearded face and sometimes stealing his breath. There were no trees; the wind never gave them a chance to take root. Occasionally he saw a stunted shrub growing low to the ground, its branches spread close to the rocks to offer little resistance to sweeping wind.
    Walking was laborious. In the rough terrain, sharp volcanic rocks jabbed at the soles of boots or scraped skin when one stumbled and fell. The inland valleys were rank with tall weeds, coarse grasses, and ferns. The thick growth concealed the spongy tundra beneath it, a quicksand of matted compost with a thin crust of volcanic ash. It sucked at boots, making each step an effort. All the while, the small scouting party stayed as close to the coastline as the terrain permitted, to keep the slow-moving shitik in sight and signal for help if they needed it.
    Late in the afternoon, after climbing and clawing his way to the crest of one of the serrated ridges that extended from the inland mountains like giant bony talons, Luka paused to catch his breath. He was winded and panting from exertion, his muscles out of condition after so many days aboard the shitik. He found a rocky place to sit on the lee side of the ridge. The rest of the scouting detail scrambled tiredly over the top and paused in staggered positions to rest with him, sheltered by the bony spine from the incessant wind.
    Below him lay a wave-capped bay and a valley stretching back from its beach. As Luka scanned the area, he spotted the white torrent of water tumbling down from a tall green cliff, then located the stream that formed at its base and meandered half-hidden through the valley’s tall grasses before it emptied into the bay.
    “Look. There’s water,” he informed Shekhurdin.
    The Cossack’s slumped shoulders straightened. “Let’s go,” he ordered crisply, finding renewed strength now that his mission ashore had located its objective.
    Luka exhaled a heavy breath and picked up the musket he’d laid beside him. He forced his cramping legs to support him again, then adjusted the ropes that lashed the wooden barrel to his back and cut into his shoulders. He started down the steep ridge after Shekhurdin. Wet grass made the footing slippery as they worked their way down.
    On the flat, they struck out across the high grass valley. With each step, the boggy ground undulated around them, the grass-covered earth rolling in waves like the sea. Luka scanned the area for any signs of life, the hunter in him alert for the presence of fox in the valley or sea otter in the rocky bay. Twice they’d come across tracks left by natives, but that had been early in the morning.
    Along the foot of a promontory jutting out to form a side of the bay, something caught his eye. He slowed his steps and caught a movement amid some humps of earth. Stopping, Luka focused on it, attempting to distinguish whether it was man or animal.
    “An Aleutorski.” Unknown to Luka, Shekhurdin had stopped when he did, observing his absorption in some distant object. The rest of the weary party had paused gladly to look. “Do you see more?”
    “We are too far away.” Luka shook his head. The hillocks made it difficult to see.
    “I don’t think he’s seen us yet.” The Cossack’s eyes gleamed with