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

It was dark save for the light of a half-moon when they started, and when they landed with difficulty through the smoking surf the beach was wrapped in shadow. Here and there a boat of some kind was drawn up, but nobody could see them clearly, and the only light was the blink from the windows of a tottering wooden house.

"You lads will come with me," said Jordan. "Donegal and Charley too. The rest of you will stand by the boats and keep your eyes open."

Then they turned towards the house, and when Appleby afterwards recalled that night he could remember the pungent smell of the weed, and the curious shrinking he felt when he set his foot on a fish head or some of the slimy offal that lay everywhere around. He could just see the schooner, flitting a dim shape across the long heave that rolled into the bay and frothed upon the roaring beaches. It was some minutes before they reached the house, which seemed horribly damp and foul, and found Motter sitting at a table. His eyes had, Appleby fancied, a little cunning gleam, and his hand seemed to tremble slightly.

"Excuse me coming down to meet you. This place is rough on one's legs," he said. "Well, you have come to put the deal through and brought the dollars?"

"Yes," said Jordan. "As I'm anxious to be off I want it done right now."

"That will suit me," said Motter. "If you don't want to be sociable you can come along and count the skins."

He limped before them into an adjoining room, which was littered with bundled furs, and Appleby noticed that while these were no doubt of value, and there was a shutter to the window, it was not closed. Motter also turned the lamp up a little, though it was apparently burning well, when he set it on a table. Then Jordan opened several bundles of the furs, and when the two other men took up a load Motter laughed a little as he said, "Haven't you forgot the dollars?"

Jordan looked at him steadily. "You'll get them all right when we're through. This lot 'bout squares up the others I didn't get from you."

Motter smiled again. "Well," he said dryly, "a man would have to get up tolerably early if he wanted to come in ahead of you."

Then Donegal and Charley went back to the boat with their bundles, and Motter sat down watching Jordan sort out and count the furs.

"Quite sure you've got them all?" he said ironically when the skipper stopped at last. "Then we'll go back to the stove. It's kind of shivery here."

"Shall I bring the lamp along?" asked Jordan.

"Leave it there. We've another in the room," said Motter, and fumbled about some time striking a good many matches before he lighted it, while Appleby became sensible of a curious uneasiness as he watched him. There was no apparent reason for this, but he fancied the man could have been quicker had he wanted. At last the lamp was lighted, and Motter sat down at the table with his face towards the door.

"You've seen the furs are there?" he said.

Jordan took out his wallet, and laid a roll of dollar bills on the table. He had another in his hand when Donegal stood in the doorway signing to him.

"You're wanted out here," he said.

Jordan asked no questions but rose at once, and Appleby, fancying there had been a change of wind, followed him. When they stood outside Donegal laid his hand on the skipper's arm, and Appleby saw that he and Charley both carried their clubs.

"'Tis a trap the beast has laid for us. Will I tell them to shove off?" he said.

"Go on," said Jordan quietly.

"'Tis like this," said Donegal. "When he went in with the light he opened the shutter, and what was he after doing that for? Then he would leave it so any wan could see there was two lights where there was wan before."

Jordan nodded. "The rest – out with it."

"Well," said Charley dryly, "there was somebody running a boat down way back along the beach. They did it kind of quietly, but we could hear them. 'Pears to me it's 'bout time we were getting out of this."

"Somebody coming down the gully," shouted a man below, and there was a faint patter of running feet in a dusky hollow that wound amidst the rocks behind the house.

Jordan swung round. "Motter has sold us to the Russians, boys," he said. "Still, if there's time yet we'll take him along."

They were back in the room the next moment, but Motter had gone, and when another shout came from outside Jordan swung round again with his face showing very grim.

"He'd have had all my dollars in another minute," he said. "Well, we'll be going."

Charley, however, stopped a moment, and taking down the big lamp swung it round his head, while a great blaze sprang up when he hurled it on the floor.

"I guess it will take them all they know to put that out," he said.

Then they blundered down the stairway, and in another moment were floundering across the beach. It was rough and strewn with boulders, while the boats lay some little distance away, and as they tripped and stumbled a hoarse shout rose out of the darkness. Nobody stopped to answer, and a rifle flashed, while a patter of feet became audible behind them.

"They're tolerably close," said Jordan. "We've got to run, boys."

There was for some reason no more firing, but the men behind were evidently used to the boulders and gaining on them. Once Appleby fell heavily, but he lost no time in picking himself up again, and went on with a horrible pain in his side, gasping as he watched the white wash of the surf that seemed to grow nearer so slowly. Just before they reached it Niven went down, and groaned when Appleby seized his shoulder and jerked him to his feet.

"Don't give in, Chriss. You must hold out," he said, and floundered on again, dragging his comrade after him.

"I'm hurt. Only one foot to run with," gasped Niven.

Stumbling and blundering they reached the boats, but the men behind were almost upon them when Appleby, taking his hand from Niven's arm, grasped the nearest. Then there was a breathless shout, and they were floundering down the beach waist-deep in froth as a sea rolled in, while dusky objects came clattering over the shingle a few paces behind them. Two men sprang in over the gunwale, and Jordan's voice rose up.

"Don't fool it by too much hurry, boys. Wade right in until she's clear afloat."

The next sea took them up to the shoulders, and Appleby, gasping with the icy cold, and half-blinded by the spray, saw that Niven was no longer with them.

"Chriss. Hallo! Where are you?" he shouted breathlessly.

He fancied a half-stifled cry answered him, and loosed his grasp on the boat. He did not remember whether he shouted again, or not, for he was only sensible that his comrade had been left behind, but next moment another shout rang out, and he felt his heart throb, as struggling shorewards he recognized the voice.

"Boys, will ye be leaving Mainsail Haul?" it said.

There was a growl in answer, and the boat came surging in almost on top of Appleby. Then men were apparently splashing through the water all about him, and one ran several yards in front of them howling gleefully and swinging a great club. After that Appleby was not quite sure what happened, but there were shouts and blows and a pistol shot, and they were floundering back again, Donegal dragging Niven through the water after him, and most of the men swinging their clubs. The boat lay half-swamped on her side when they reached her, and Appleby wondered afterwards how they got her through the surf, but he knew Niven lay on the floorings, and straining every muscle and sinew he tugged at his oar. Donegal was apparently yelling gleefully still. Then, as they drew out from the shore there was another red flash, and Jordan's voice rose up from the next boat.

"If he can't be quiet, boys, you'd better heave him over. I've no use for letting them know just where to shoot."

"That's sense," said Charley. "Reach out and put some weight on, Appleby. Your partner's all right."

Appleby did as he was bidden, though the spray that whirled about them rendered the boat almost invisible as she lurched over the swell, while his contentment increased when Niven assured him that it was only his foot, that was hurting him. Presently the Champlain ran past the boat with canvas banging, and while they hove her in Stickine drew the skipper towards the rail.

"There's a boat on our bow. Came off 'bout a mile back down the beach," he said. "They pull like white men, so far as I make out."

"Heading straight to windward, too!" said Jordan, quietly. "Well, we'll have the main topsail on her."

The topsail was aloft in another minute, and the Champlain's rail almost awash as she thrashed out to sea, but it was only in short tacks she could work out of the bay, and their pursuers seemed to know it, for they had rowed to windward and could accordingly chose their time for approaching her.

"'Pears to me they mean to come on board," said Jordan dryly. "Well, you'll pass up the clubs and lay them handy on the house, but there'll be trouble for any one who takes one up before he's told to. Is it you, Montreal, at the wheel?"

There was a growl in answer, and Jordan seemed to smile.

"Then," he said, "you'll keep her going and not too high, until I tell you."

They swept on hurling the spray aloft, for though the bay was slightly sheltered the swell worked in, and it was blowing tolerably hard, while, so far as Appleby could see, the boat meant to intercept them when they went about close off a smoking reef. He could just make her out every now and then as she rose with a sea.

"That," said Jordan, "'pears to me uncommonly like a gun-boat's cutter, and by the way they're pulling they've a good many men in her."

They drove on, the boat growing nearer and larger, until she came reeling towards them with oars thrashing up the froth, and Jordan sprang up on the rail. Appleby could see that if they went round now, the boat pulling straight to windward would still close with them when they came about to clear another reef not far away, but Jordan, it seemed, had no intention of coming round.

"It's not my fault I can't run away," he said quietly. "Keep her going, Montreal."

The reef was close to leeward now, the boat nearer still to weather, and already somebody was shouting on board her. She was pulling straight towards the schooner's bows, and would be alongside in another few moments. Appleby felt his heart throbbing painfully. Then the skipper raised his hand.

"Down helm – a spoke or two," he said.

There was another shout from the boat, for it seemed that the schooner had yielded, but if that was its meaning it was premature, for while her headsails rattled she still drove ahead, and Montreal's harsh laugh jarred through the crash and sound of smashing oars below.

"Up again. Fill on her!" roared Jordan, and Appleby, running aft with the rest, saw the boat drive away helpless astern. Nobody was apparently pulling, and he surmised that the rending oars had hurled the men who held them one upon the other.

Then the Champlain came round, and a rifle flashed harmlessly as she once more swept past the disabled craft. Ten minutes later there was no sign of the boat, and they were thrashing out to sea alone.

"I don't quite know what they were, or that I want to, but if they'd been sealers they'd have had us sure," said Jordan, with a little laugh. "Well, we'll fix up how we're going to square this thing off with Motter to-morrow."

CHAPTER XIX

THE SEALERS' RECKONING

The wind fell light next morning, and the haze closed in, but it became evident there were reefs not far away when the Champlain fell in with a herd of holluschackie. The men were in an unpleasant temper, and worked in eager haste when Jordan bade them get the boats over, for to have gone back and swept every seal off the island would have been a relief to them then. Jordan, however, seldom let his feelings overcome his prudence, and he smiled dryly as he watched the men.

"I don't quite know where the beach is, but there are the seals," he said. "If we run the flag up you'll pull back just as quick as you can."

The boats had started in another minute, and with rifles flashing every now and then they swung over the long swell, until the men's arms and backs were aching.

Darkness was creeping in when they came back one by one, and then by the flicker of blinking lanterns the work went on. The deck grew foul with grease and blood, the knives slipped in the tired hands that held them, and the lads would stop gasping a moment or two each time a stripped carcase went over the side, and wonder whether anything would ever free them from the horrible smell. At last it was over, and while the Champlain crept on her way again they sat greasy and slimy in the hold. They were very tired, but there was content in the sealers' bronzed faces, save for that of Montreal, who sat gloomily silent away from the rest.

"You've not been talking much to-day. Feeling sick?" said somebody.

Montreal's brown fingers slowly clenched themselves. "Not in the way you mean. You know what I came up here for, boys, and I've had 'bout enough of this," he said. "How'm I going to find out anything when Jordan yanks me out of every boat that goes ashore?"

Donegal, whose forehead was wrapped in a crusted bandage, shook his head.

"And Ned Jordan knows as well. Can ye not be trusting him?" he said.

Montreal appeared to find some difficulty in checking a groan. "I've waited a long while, boys, and I'm kind of tired," he said.

There was silence for a minute, for the men knew it was a brother their comrade had come to find, and Niven, who lay upon the floorings with one foot tied up, remembering what he had heard in Motter's house, was about to speak when Appleby kicked him on the leg.

"Still," said somebody, "there's nothing you can do."

Montreal glanced round the shadowy hold as though to make sure that Stickine was not there. "Well," he said slowly, "I guess the Champlain will be short of a boat and a man short one morning – and there'll be trouble for some folks yonder if it's dead that man's brother is. It's the not knowing – the knowing nothing, that's killing me."

"One man couldn't do much alone," said Charley dryly.

Montreal laughed mirthlessly, and there was a curious glint in his eyes. "I guess he could," he said. "That is, if he had a rifle, and didn't worry 'bout anything so long as he used up the magazine before they got him down."

Donegal's face lit up under the crusted bandage, and his voice had a little gleeful ring. "And two av them would do just twice as much – and it's two, or more, there'll be, but we'll give Ned Jordan a fair show first," said he.

A little growl of grim approval rose from the men, but none of them said anything further, and they did not seem quite at ease when Jordan and Stickine came down the ladder. The skipper sat down, and looked at them gravely, but if he noticed anything unusual he did not mention it.

"We've got to have a little talk, boys," he said. "You know the kind of trick Motter would have worked off on me. He'd have taken my dollars and then before I got the furs turned the Russians loose on us. He and one of their officers fixed up the thing, and before I got out of their grip I'd have left skins and schooner behind me. Now, I don't like being kicked that way by anybody."

The skipper may have been mistaken, but the men believed him.

"We'll go back and pull his place down," said somebody.

Jordan smiled and shook his head. "And find a squad of bluejackets waiting for you? That's just what Motter would figure on, and there's a gunboat crawling round," he said.

"Are we going to sit down and do nothing?" asked Montreal.

"No," said Jordan with a little twinkle in his eyes. "Now, it's kind of difficult for a gunboat to be in two places at once, and while she's hanging round Motter's watching for us there's nothing to stop us walking right into the sealing post."

He stopped a moment, and looked straight at Montreal. "Well, now, that isn't in the deal you made to go sealing with me, but I heard they had a white man there."

There was a murmur of astonishment, and Montreal stood up quivering a little. "And," he said hoarsely, "you're going for him?"

Jordan nodded. "Oh, yes," he said. "If the boys are willing."

The answer was not effusive, but Jordan, who saw the little darker flush that crept into the bronzed faces and the slow clenching of a brown hand here and there, appeared contented. He knew that he had but to lead and the men would follow.

"Well," he said grimly, "if we've any kind of fortune we'll be there to-morrow."

He nodded to them, and when he went up the ladder Donegal gleefully thumped Montreal on the shoulder.

"It's you and me that's spoiling – just spoiling for to-morrow," he said, and made a run at Appleby who was grinning at him. "And you knew it and never told. Sure I saw ye kicking Mainsail Haul. It's me that would be caressing ye wid a rope end, me darling."

Appleby swung himself up the ladder. "Sure, 'tis no sensible man would go looking for a row when he could run away," he said.

Donegal shook his fist at him. "Ye will stop up there where it's nice and fresh," he said. "No man can be sensible always. 'Twould not be good for him."

Next day they raised a gray blur above the horizon, and Jordan, when he saw it, headed out to sea again. Then he laid the Champlain to, and it was not until dusk was creeping across the waters that they edged in towards the land again. The time passed very slowly, and the men were for the most part unusually silent, though there was a curious anticipation in their faces, and Montreal sat very grim and quiet rubbing out a rifle. It occurred to the lads who watched him now and then that it would not be nice to be the Russians who had ill-used his brother if he came across them.

There was no moon, and the sky was dimmed by driving haze when they pulled ashore, three boatloads of them with rifles, clubs and knives, and no man spoke when they sprang out waist-deep in the long white wash that went seething up the beach. Two stayed behind to watch the boats, and with the stones rattling beneath them the rest went on. Appleby and Niven, who limped painfully, followed too, because Jordan had apparently been too much occupied to notice them. It seemed to the lads that anybody who might be listening must hear the noise they made a mile away, but the sea frothed and roared upon the beaches close behind, and when they wound beneath the face of a crag another sound grew louder. It was the voice of the big bull seals, and while they blundered over the slippery ledges the lads could dimly see that every shelf of rock was packed with curious shadowy objects. Some of them were shambling forward, some lying still with heads held up, but all were roaring, piping, bleating at once, and the din they made was indescribable.

Suddenly two of them flopped over a ledge and came shambling towards the men, one of whom stepped aside, while Appleby, starting a little at the sight of the half-seen shapeless thing heading for him, swung up his club. It looked very big as it came on through the semi-darkness. Somebody, however, laughed and grabbed his arm.

"He's not going to hurt you, sonny, if you get out of his way," a voice said. "Just a bull seal they've shoved out of the rookery. He'll go back and pull one of the rest of them out presently."

The seal flopped away into the shadow or into the sea, and the men finding better footing went on more rapidly, until when Jordan signed to them they stopped breathless on the crest of a rise. Beneath them in the dimness the sea frothed whitely, and a swarm of shadowy objects were apparently shuffling down the slope between.

"Holluschackie!" said Jordan dryly. "It's quite likely we'll take a few of them along. Get the lie of the place into you, boys. You might want to find the boats handy when you come back again."

The lads looked round with the others, but there was very little to see. A low black rise ran up into the haze in front of them, and here and there they caught the glimmer of a patch of snow. All round the darkness seemed closing in, and out of it came the boom of the sea on the beaches and a doleful wail of wind, for the seals were almost quiet again. Appleby could feel his heart beating and his temples throbbing as he wondered what that dimness hid.

"It reminds me of the night we stole Jimmy's duck," said Niven, but his voice was not quite the same as usual. "It will be something to look back upon."

"Oh, yes," said Appleby dryly. "So long as we do it on board the schooner. It wouldn't be quite so nice to remember it in Siberia."

"If I couldn't talk of anything more cheerful I'd shut my mouth tight!" said Niven, who felt the chilly darkness growing curiously unpleasant.

He fancied he could have made a dash at an armed loghouse as well as the rest, but this slow crawling in on an unknown enemy was a very different and much more disconcerting affair.

Just then Jordan raised his hand, and they went on again, blundering over a boulder here and there, and now and then splashing through a little slushy snow, but still there was only sliding haze about them and in front grey obscurity, until the lads commenced to wonder whether they would go tramping on the whole night through. At last, however, they stopped again on the summit of another rise, and Appleby grasped Niven's arm when he made out the dim blink of a light in the fog. The men murmured together, and Jordan seemed to be speaking, but Appleby did not hear what he said. He could only watch the light, while Niven afterwards admitted that he could recollect very little but a feverish desire to get what they had to do over.

Once more the men wont on, a little quicker now, while the soft patter of their feet and the rattle of a rifle as one of them stumbled seemed horribly distinct in the stillness. Nobody, however, appeared to hear them, and at last when the dim outline of a house rose blackly against the night the pace grew faster, until it became a run, and the lads saw the line of shadowy figures split up left and right. Then they heard Jordan's voice.

"In with you. You know what you have to do!"

Appleby's fears seemed to fall from him, and it was with a wild desire to shout that he followed the rest at a breathless run, while Niven floundered along a few paces behind him. The house rose higher and blacker, and still nobody seemed to hear them until a dog commenced growling as they swept round to the rear of it, and stood apart on either side when Montreal with his rifle-butt beat upon the door.

There was a cry of surprise inside, a sound of voices, and footsteps that stopped again, while a deep growl made answer when Montreal once more beat upon the door. Then he stepped back and swung up his rifle.

"No time for fooling, boys," he said. "In she goes."

Appleby saw the weapon whirl high, and another shadowy man standing with the muzzle of his rifle pointed at the door. Then it came down crashing, there was a rush of feet, and he went in with the rest over the shattered door.

A glare of light shone into his eyes, there was a savage growl and a flash as something sprang straight at the foremost of them. A smear of acrid smoke filled the passage, but Appleby fancied he saw a big sealing-club whirl up, and the dog went down, for next moment he stumbled over something that felt soft beneath him. Then with somebody running before them they burst into a room, and the lads long remembered the picture that met them.

Two men who had apparently fled along the passage stood sullenly at the further end of it, and two more who had evidently dragged a table into a corner behind it. They were less than half-dressed, but one who was tall with blue eyes and straw-coloured hair had on a partly buttoned naval uniform. A pistol glinted in his hand, and an inch or two of blue-grey steel shone at his belt. The other man's face was sallow, but he was unarmed, and there was a curious glint in his little dark eyes as he watched the sealers.

For a moment they stood looking at each other, and then another door on the opposite side of the room was driven open and Jordan, rifle in hand, came in. Behind him came Stickine and Donegal. More sealers in shaggy furs and greasy canvas trooped in, but still the blue-eyed officer stood apparently unconcerned. Then Jordan dropped his rifle-butt and held up his hand.