The Great Alone Read Online Free

He voiced his thoughts to the man on his left, Shekhurdin.
    “Maybe not on all of the islands,” the Cossack suggested. “Bering Island wasn’t inhabited. This one may not be either.”
    “It’s a big island—some seventy versts long, I would guess. There might be villages elsewhere.” Luka wasn’t about to let his guard down. And he did not like Shekhurdin’s air of authority.
    The man had all the makings of a leader. He was intelligent and experienced, and despite the deceptively lean appearance Shekhurdin’s height gave him, the man was strong. His courage was evident in the way he had met Belyaev’s challenge. But his evenhanded treatment of the Kamchadals on board rankled Luka.
    The soft hide sails billowed full with the wind as the bow of the flat-bottomed boat swung away from the island, changing course.
    “Why are we moving away?” Belyaev’s rough voice demanded. “There’s otter here. Why are we not stopping?”
    “That’s like you, Belyaev,” Luka mocked. “You see something you want and grab for it without taking time to see if anything better is around.”
    A few guffaws of laughter followed his observation, suppressed, however, in case the sometimes belligerent Belyaev took offense. But an ever-ready grin split his black-bearded face. “If there is something better, I will take that, too!” he declared. “At least the first one will not slip through my fingers while I wait to see if there is more.”
    But the shitik continued on its course away from the first island in the chain to search for the next. Luka watched the island receding from his view, the first land he’d seen in days. The ocean wasn’t his element, and he was as anxious as everyone else to get off this crowded boat and walk on solid ground. But not so anxious that he didn’t want to explore.
    “For once I agree with Belyaev,” Shekhurdin said when Luka faced the sea again, straining his eyes for a glimpse of another speck of land. “I would have anchored in one of the bays.”
    Luka looked at Shekhurdin’s proud profile, the thin straight nose as narrow in its outlook as its owner. “It’s morning. We have plenty of time to scout the next island.”
    “Presuming, of course, there is one. We only have Nevodchikov’s word on that—a peasant, a silversmith whose only experience is sailing with that Dane Bering.” He spoke in an undertone, matter-of-factly. “We need to replenish our supply of fresh water. I would have done so at that island while we had the chance before proceeding further. We could have gotten some fresh meat as well. We aren’t that well provisioned.”
    His reasoning was valid and Luka didn’t quarrel with it. Arguments could always be made in favor of one position or the other. They had set out on this voyage with only a small stock of provisions—some hams, a small quantity of rancid butter, a ration of rye and wheat flour so there would be bread on religious holidays, dried salmon, and most importantly, an ample supply of starter for sourdough bread to prevent scurvy. They expected to hunt and fish for the rest of their food.
    “I, for one, want to see more of these islands,” Luka stated. A good hunter chooses the best hunting grounds, not the first one where he finds his game.
    Shekhurdin lingered only a few minutes longer, then pushed away from his position at the deck rail and wandered amid other members of the expedition. The shitik continued on its south-southeasterly course across the lead-colored sea while gulls wheeled overhead and diving cormorants fished the waters.
    It wasn’t long before Luka heard vague grumblings of discontent among the promyshleniki. The island was no longer in sight and a second was yet to be spotted. He heard mention of the dwindling water supply and guessed the source of dissension.
    Around midday, the second island was sighted. As the craft approached it, the attention of the crew was divided between it and their captain. Luka felt the tension in