In the Misty Seas: A Story of the Sealers of Behring Strait

He gave no instructions, and they were apparently not needed, for the men knew their work, and while they bent to their oars a sea that frothed a little swung them high and carried them inshore. When they sank down on the back of it the one behind grew steeper and the boat seemed driven forward by an unseen force as she swept up on its crest. This happened several times, and then a great rattling of pebbles came out of the spray ahead and the last rush was almost bewildering. Then there was a crash, and the foam that seethed about her lapped into the boat, but the men sprang over knee-deep in water, and whipped her out, while almost before they realized that they had got there the lads found themselves standing on dry land. The men who had pulled the boats up were, however, already shouldering little wooden kegs.

"You'll stop right here with the lads," said Stickine, turning to two of them. "Get the boats down as far as you can if you hear us coming back in a hurry. Now, boys, we'll get a move on."

In another minute the men had started, and the lads watched them flounder over the shingle and up a misty slope, until they faded into the dim background and the patter of their footsteps was lost in the growling of the seas. Then they sat down beside Donegal in the shelter of the boat, though the other man stood upright at her bows. There was a chilly wind, and now and then the uproar the seals made, rolled about them. It was also very lonely, and Niven shivered as he crawled closer beneath the boat and wished he was back in the snug hold of the schooner.

"How will they know where to find the water?" he asked at last.

Charley, the man who stood up, laughed. "That," he said, "is quite easy. You see, Stickine has been here before."

"But you don't always damage your water tank, and Jordan wouldn't let them kill the seals," said Appleby.

Donegal nodded. "'Tis as inquisitive as Mainsail Haul ye are," he said. "Now, Ned Jordan never took a dollar that didn't belong to him from any one, and he's carrying no score against the Americans just now."

"Still, you or Montreal told me they'd tried to stop him sealing," said Niven.

"Oh, yes," said Charley. "That's just what they did, but you've heard Donegal. Ned Jordan don't let his debts run on, and he don't like anybody else to owe him anything."

"But from his way of looking at it the Americans owed him a good deal," persisted Appleby.

Donegal laughed. "They don't now, and when Ned Jordan has got what was owing him he don't want any more," he said. "'Tis the man that's never contented who gets into throuble."

This was not very clear, but Appleby fancied he understood, because there was only one way in which Jordan could have paid himself. Appleby was, however, by no means sure that what Jordan had done was altogether warranted, but that was for him to decide, and the lad had already surmised that a man must relinquish his rights or enforce them by the means that came handiest in the misty seas. In the meanwhile, the skipper had been kind to him, and the excitement of the life they led appealed to him. Turning to Niven he laughed a little.

"I wonder what your father would think if he heard we were taken to Alaska in handcuffs for seal poaching, Chriss," he said.

"Well," said Niven dryly, "I hope we're not going to be, and I don't quite think he'd find it so amusing as you seem to fancy. There's not much use in talking that kind of rot!"

They said no more for a little, and Appleby felt inclined to regret his speech. It called up unpleasant reflections, for he had more than a suspicion that the thing he had mentioned might very readily come about.

There were, he had been told, well-armed Aleut Indians on the island, and not far away a gunboat lay hidden in the haze. If Jordan grew impatient and fired his gun the prospect of escape seemed very small for any of them. By and by he turned to Donegal as the din the seals made vibrated about them.

"Do they make that uproar always, and what do they do it for?" he said.

"They'll go on another month, and this is the way av it," said Donegal. "The seals are lying as thick as herrings in the rookery, and 'tis more room every bull is wanting to bring up his family in, while the place that seems nicest to him is just the one his neighbour is lying in. Sure, they're just like men, and when ye hear one roaring he's looking savage at the big fellow that's crowding too near and wondering if he's able to tear the hide off him."

Niven laughed a little. "I never heard of a man wondering if he could do that," he said.

"Then," said Donegal dryly, "'tis a curiosity that is not unknown in Ireland. Is it lambs ye are at the English schools, my son? – Ye do not see them, Charley?"

"No," said the other man, and while they waited the roar of the sea seemed to grow louder and the wind colder, and unpleasant misgivings began to creep upon the lads as they wondered what was happening behind them in the mist. It seemed quite possible that Stickine had blundered into the Aleuts' clutches or that a body of the gunboat's bluejackets had been sent ashore. Charley, however, laughed when Appleby mentioned it.

"It kind of strikes me we'd have heard them," he said. "There would be a circus before they corralled Stickine."

At last the sound of footsteps became faintly audible, and a line of men came out of the haze. They were panting as they floundered down hill under their burdens, and a few moments later Stickine gasped as he laid the breaker he carried into the boat.

"It's 'bout time we were out of this, boys. Heave her off," he said.

They went down the beach at a floundering run as a sea seethed in, splashed knee-deep with the pebbles ringing and rattling under them, and sprang on board just in time to get the oars out before another white-topped slope of water came hissing out of the mist.

"Shove her through!" roared Stickine. "Pull the buttons off you, boys!"

The oars bent as the men swung backwards, there was a plunge and a thud, and seething froth swept about the boat. It splashed into her to their ankles, and then, while Appleby plied the baler, swept away behind, and the boat flung her bows high to meet another comber. They went over this one more dryly, and drawing out from the surf pulled as noiselessly as possible, straining eyes and ears for any sign of the gunboat. There was none, however, and at last, tired with the long pull over the steep heave of sea, they came up with the schooner. It appeared astonishing to Appleby that they had found her, and while he watched the dark hull reel on the long slopes of water he wondered how they would ever get the breakers on board her. The sealers, however, were used to doing even more difficult things, and it was accomplished while the boats swung in towards the schooner, and then off into the fog again. As soon as they were on board Stickine drew the skipper aside.

"There was a gunboat lying 'bout abreast of the head when we were pulling in," he said.

"Then do you figure she isn't there now?" said Jordan.

"I don't know," said Stickine. "Any way, we couldn't see her, and it wasn't quite thick all the time."

Jordan nodded as he said, "We'll have the mainsail on her and the boom foresail, boys."

In five minutes the trysail was below, and though it was blowing tolerably fresh the Champlain was thrashing out to windward under all her lower sail. Two men stood forward in the whirling spray, and Jordan staring to windward through his glasses on the house, but for at least half-an-hour there was nothing visible but the whirling fog and long tumbling seas. Then a man swung up his arm, and Appleby gasped as something blacker than the vapours slid out of the fog. It was not far away to windward and coming on swiftly, for as he watched it the white froth about the shadowy hull grew into visibility, and he held his breath a minute as he made out a funnel and two slanted spars. Black and dark, with no light about her and ominous in her silence, the gunboat lay across their course.

There was, however, no sign of either confusion or consternation, and Jordan's voice was quieter than usual.

"Up helm. Off with the mainboom, boys," he said.

Stickine pulled over the wheel, the long mainboom swung out amidst a rattle of blocks, and the Champlain came round, until instead of sailing close hauled to it she was running before the wind.

"Topsails," said Jordan. "Yard-headers. He hasn't got us yet."

There was no controverting that, but while Appleby knew the pace the Champlain could make when hard pressed it seemed almost impossible that she could out-sail a steamer. Still, the skipper's quiet voice was curiously reassuring, and he remembered that Stickine had told him there were two ways of winning a race. In the meanwhile the gaff topsails went up banging, and the foam was flying white when they were sheeted home. Then the men stood still about the rail, each busy with the unasked question – Had the commander of the gunboat seen them? The Champlain's stern was towards him now, and her mainsail alone would be visible with her masts in line.

They had not, however, long to wait for an answer, for suddenly a blaze of light drove through the haze and smote the straining canvas. Then it sank a little, forcing up the men's set faces and lighting all the deck.

For a moment or two the lads could see every one of them sharp and clear in the dazzling brilliancy, and then there was a bewildering darkness again, for the light went out. The gunboat had also gone with it, and they were once more alone in the fog.

"Seen us sure!" said Stickine.

Jordan laughed softly. "Running!" he said. "She'll not come round with him as we did. Let her come up. Boys, we'll have all sheets in."

In came the mainboom, the foresail and jibs were hauled in too, and the schooner's lee rail was swept by the frothing brine when she came up once more close-hauled to the wind. Still, Appleby wondered, for the gunboat was to windward of them, and Niven, who stood close by him, turned to one of the men to ask a question.

"We're going back straight towards the American?" he said.

The sailor seemed to chuckle. "We're going where she was, but she'll be somewhere else just now," he said. "When they've brought her round they'll steam after us the way they saw us going before the wind, and we're pinched right up within 'bout three and a half points of it. It would take a very smart man to get in ahead of Ned Jordan."

Niven laughed excitedly, for, remembering Lawson's lesson on board the Aldebaran and what he had been taught since, the manoeuvre was now plain to him. If the gunboat steamed away before the wind it was evident that as they were heading at a very small angle to it the vessels would be sailing in almost opposite directions, and there only remained the unpleasant uncertainty whether the pursuer would find them with her light again. Still, the Champlain was driving to windward very fast and the haze was thick.

"What did he switch his light off for?" asked Appleby.

"Well," said the sealer, "I don't figure he did. Seems more likely that something went wrong with it."

Others were doubtless wondering over the same point, for the men were still looking astern, and at last a faint silvery beam moved athwart the fog and then swept back again. Appleby fancied Jordan laughed as he came down from the house and stood by the wheel.

"That fellow's easily fooled. He's going right away to leeward as fast as they can shove her along, and the only thing that's worrying me is the mainmast head," he said. "'Pears to me we wrung it a little in the race with the Belle."

Almost as he spoke the Champlain put her bows in, and the deck was flooded ankle-deep with icy brine, while the lads could understand the skipper's misgivings as they glanced up at the big topsail and long gaff that stretched out the great mainsail's head. It was not difficult to see that the strain they put upon the mast must be considerable.

Stickine nodded from the wheel. "We've got to carry on and take our chances now," he said.

"Oh, yes," said Jordan. "Anyway, for another hour or so."

The time, however, had not passed when as the Champlain swung her bows out of a sea there was a sharp crack overhead, and almost simultaneously Jordan's voice followed it.

"Drop your gaff topsail and get the mainsail off her quick," he said.

Nobody lost any time, and there were many willing hands. In a few minutes the long boom was lying on the quarter and the Champlain jogging slowly to windward with the trysail only on her mainmast. Jordan did not appear by any means disturbed.

"I don't figure that fellow will find us again to-night, and we'll see what's wrong up there when daylight comes," he said. "You'll find me below, Stickine, if you're wanting me."

Then, except those who were needed for the watch, the men crawled below, and the Champlain rolled on into a thicker wisp of fog.

CHAPTER XIV

GOOD WORK

Next morning Montreal, who had been a carpenter, went aloft, and remained a while sitting on a little board the others hoisted up the mast. When he came down he followed Jordan and Stickine into the cabin, and all hands were curious when one of the Indians was sent for, too. Still, nothing transpired beyond that Brulée, who made an excuse for visiting the cabin, informed the rest that they were doing a deal of talking, until when breakfast was brought in Stickine and Montreal joined their comrades. Donegal quietly placed the can of coffee between his feet and signed to Niven to remove the eatables.

"Ye will have something to tell us, and breakfast will come on just as soon as ye have done it," he said.

Stickine laughed. "I don't talk when I'm hungry, and I want that can," he said. "When I've got a holt of it Montreal will start in."

"Well," said the carpenter, "my lot's just this. She's wrung her masthead, and I could splice a new one in with the lump of redwood forward and the irons Jordan found me, but it's a contract one could only put through in smooth water."

"What does he mean by wrung?" asked Niven.

"'Tis a complete 'cyclopedia with pictorial illusthrations ye will be when ye go home," said Donegal. "Just wrung, same as ye would twist a towel, by the strain on the halliard bolts! Ye will feed him on mustard, Brulée, if he talks again. Well now, Stickine?"

"We're making for a snug berth under one of the Aleutians," said Stickine. "Montreal figures he'll want three days there, but the Indian has a kind of notion we might find a sea otter."

"We wouldn't be very much better off if we did," said Niven. "Will anybody give me twenty-five cents for my share in one sea otter?"

Charley fumbled in his pockets, and apparently finding nothing there gravely laid a beautifully-made knife upon his knees. "If you'll take that for it we'll make the deal," he said.

Niven looked at the speaker in astonishment, and was about to take the knife when Donegal laid his hand upon it.

"'Twould serve ye right if I let ye. Is it shaming me with the ignorance av ye will be doing always?" he said. "What's a sea otter? Sure, 'tis the same thing as pearls and rubies, and what Mandarins and Emperors wear. Sorrow on the beast that would get himself exthinct."

Niven chuckled. "That's his usual rot, and I'll take the knife," he said. "What's the use of hunting any beast when it's extinct?"

"Give it him," said Donegal. "Thim as can't take telling ye must teach wid a stick."

Charley's eyes twinkled as he held out the knife, but Appleby broke in, "I fancy you had better wait a little," he said. "There are sea otters, Stickine?"

Stickine laughed a little. "They're getting scarce, and it takes a rich man to buy one now. If I had a few of them and silver foxes I would not go to sea. No, sir, I'd sit still ashore telling yarns in luxury. You're still open to make the deal?"

Niven saw that the eyes of all of them were upon him. "Of course!" he said. "I've made the offer, and I've been an ass again. Give me the knife, Charley."

Then somewhat to his astonishment the sealer slipped the knife back into its sheath, and Donegal thumped him on the back. "'Tis the makings av a man ye have in ye," he said. "A little sense is all ye need, but 'tis very hard to teach it ye."

Niven was not sorry that one of the others asked a question about the mast, and he was allowed to finish his breakfast in silence. Before it was over he heard a rattle of blocks, and when he went up on deck the Champlain was heading towards the east. Some time had passed, however, before she reached an anchorage under a rocky island hemmed in by smoking reefs. It was not an inspiriting place, and when they crept slowly in under shortened sail with the long swell heaving after them and the Indian standing impassive as a bronze statue at the wheel, the lads felt its desolation. There was no sign of life on the low shore that showed up dimly through the mist and rain. The grey rocks ran water, and the whiteness of the surf that seethed upon the beaches of rattling pebbles was the only brightness in all the sombre colouring. Here and there to seaward a stony barrier hove its black fangs out of the spouting foam and the growl of the sea rose from every side.

Still, they had little time to contemplate the dreary picture, for the cable had scarcely rattled out when the work commenced. The swell worked into the anchorage, and the schooner rolled with it lazily, but one of the big masts that swayed above her must be lifted out, and that was an operation usually accomplished in smooth water by the help of two great poles raised on end and lashed so that with the mast they formed a tripod. Jordan, however, had only his mainboom, and a few other very small spars to make them with, and while the others helped him Montreal spent the rest of the day lashing them together and wedging the fastenings before he fancied he could trust them to lift the heavy mast. It rained all the time.

Even then he appeared to have misgivings, and the light was growing dim before they had jammed one end of them fast and hove the other up with the end of the mainboom lashed to it. Then he and Jordan talked for some time together, and the men went below to rest and wait for morning. They were all of them tired, for the rolling of the vessel had rendered the task of getting the big spars on end and fastening them a very arduous one, and the two lads, who had done what they could among the rest, were aching in every limb. When they had stripped off their wet clothes they were glad to crawl into their bunks and lie there almost too tired and drowsy to ask any questions of the men who sat smoking below. Still, it took a good deal to overcome Niven's curiosity, and presently he reached out and tapped Montreal on the shoulder.

"Once or twice I fancied the whole affair was coming down on us," he said. "Can you lift the mast with it to-morrow?"

Montreal grinned. "Well," he said dryly, "I don't quite know, but I guess I can. Isn't that the kind of thing you could leave to me and Jordan?"

"Oh, yes, but I am a little curious. You see, I might be under it," said Niven. "What's going to happen if you make a mess of it?"

"A funeral if you don't get out from under handy," said the sealer. "What's more important to the rest of us, it might tear out half the decks. When she gets loose and swinging you can't fool with that size of mast."

"Then why can't you let it stay where it is?" asked Niven. "It would set the trysail, and that's about all the sail we seem to carry on the mainmast."

"And how fast will she go under trysail?" asked Charley.

"That depends upon how much wind there is," said Niven.

Donegal looked at him a moment and solemnly shook his head. "'Tis no credit ye are to me, and I've tried to do my duty by ye," he said. "The question is how fast ye would want to go when there were two cutters stuffed wid men and cutlasses pulling after ye. Then 'twould be sailing nice and quiet under trysail would content ye?"

"We haven't seen any of those cutters yet," said Niven.

Donegal laughed softly, and a little grim smile crept into the faces of the rest. "There's a good many things ye have not seen, but ye may have the opportunity of observing one or two av them yet, and I don't know that it would please ye then," he said.

Niven was about to answer when Stickine, who crawled into his bunk, flung a wet fur cap at him. "It's about time you were sleeping, sonny, and you'll want all the breath you've got to-morrow," he said.

When morning came Niven found this was correct enough, for as soon as it was light the work commenced, and when Brulée called them for breakfast the mainmast was ready for lifting, while the men were unusually quiet as they went back on deck. The mast looked very big and heavy, and the Champlain was rolling more than she had done as yet. It was also raining hard, and a cold wind blew the drizzle into their eyes, while the tackles were stiff and swollen, but when Jordan raised his hand they bent their backs, and for five minutes the mast rose inch by inch. Then it stuck, and Appleby fancied he could feel the deck quiver beneath him under the strain as one of the beams it was fastened to took part of the weight.

The men, finding they could not move it, stood still a moment, their faces showing set and drawn with the fierceness of their effort, some with hands clenched above their heads upon the rigid ropes and one or two with bent backs, while their eyes were fixed on Jordan who stood impassive and motionless on the house.

"Hold on to it," he said quietly. "Montreal, see what's jamming her."

Montreal was, however, below already, and presently his voice rose muffled from the hatch. "Heave," he said, and then more hoarsely, "Heave!"

Appleby was gasping, while the veins swelled on his forehead as he clutched a rope, and he wondered whether the men who had borne that intense strain could make another effort, for already the faces of some were purple.

"Now. Up she comes!" said somebody.

Then the sinewy bodies rose and sank again, the blocks rattled, and the mast rose slowly, stopped a moment, and rose again.

"You've got to do it this time, boys," said Jordan very quietly.

Their foreheads were drawn together, their breath was spent in an intensity of effort, but they succeeded, and there was a half-articulate yell when the foot of the mast rose out of the hole. Then a man sprang wildly across the deck, and in another moment mast and shears were tottering as the former swung towards the rail when the schooner rolled.

"Check her. Give him a hand, Charley," said Jordan, and Appleby wondered that his voice was even. Then there was a bang as something yielded under the strain, and the mast swayed out-board while the frayed ends of a rope whistled past the lad who for several seconds held the little breath that was left in him. The great spar swung up and down above the vessel, and the shears it hung from were rocking with it, while it was not difficult to see that unless something were done at once they would come down together, smashing the men beneath. Still, it also appeared that Jordan had provided for similar accidents and not trusted to any single rope.

"Catch her with the preventer, Charley, when she comes in," he said.

Charley nodded, for he was bent double hauling at a rope, and for a horrible moment or two, while everything that held it groaned, the mast swayed above their heads. Appleby could feel his heart thumping and a curious coldness under his belt as he watched it. Then the strain slackened a moment when the Champlain'sforemast swung upright, and Jordan's voice broke harshly through the silence – "Down with her!"

Blocks rattled, men panted, the end of the mast hung lower over them, there was a great clatter and a thud, and Appleby stood up gasping and drenched with perspiration. The mast was down on the deck, the men apparently blinking at it, and there was a horrible tingling in one of his hands. Still, it was a little while before he glanced at it and saw that the rope had chafed the skin away and left his fingers raw and bleeding. That, however, scarcely troubled him just then, for he felt the keen and wholesome joy which comes to those who by the strenuous toil of their bodies have done an arduous and perilous thing.