"Oh, totem in our hours of ease,Uncertain, coy and hard to please;Now you have had your walrus bath,Be nice and kind, and smile and laugh;And kindly watch our destiny,Northward, toward the Arctic Sea."
"Oh, totem in our hours of ease,Uncertain, coy and hard to please;Now you have had your walrus bath,Be nice and kind, and smile and laugh;And kindly watch our destiny,Northward, toward the Arctic Sea."
AN ADVENTURE OF JACK'S.
"What's that yonder, uncle?" asked Tom.
It was the morning after the adventure with the walrus and theNorthernerwas steaming steadily on toward Valdez, her next port of call on her voyage north. At that place she would take on coal for the final stage of her journey to St. Michaels near the mouth of the Yukon, where the party would be left after the small steamer had been put together.
Tom was a great boy to lean against the rail scanning the sea in search of something that might prove exciting. He had been gazing steadily against the far horizon for some minutes. Mr. Dacre hastened to his cabin and came back with a pair of binoculars.
He raised them and looked fixedly in the direction that Tom had indicated.
"It's a whale," he declared, "or rather a whole school of them, if I'm not mistaken. They are dead ahead of us. If we keep on this course, we shall run almost squarely into them."
He hastened off to inform the captain and Mr. Chillingworth while Tom set out to find his chums. He found them in the wireless room practicing on the key. At his news they speedily jumped up and joined him in the bow.
Within an hour they came into plain sight of what appeared at first to be so many giant logs rolling about in the sea. All at once, among the "logs," which of course were the whales, appeared splashes of white water. The leviathans swam swiftly here and there as though in fear.
"What's the matter with them?" wondered Tom.
"Maybe it's the ship's coming that has scared them," suggested Jack.
"It's the totem at the bow, mon," declared the Scotch boy solemnly.
The captain leaned over the bridge rail and shouted to them.
"There's a school of killers in among them."
"Killers?"
"Yes, the killer whales. They are the enemies of the other kind and just naturally take after them when they meet. Watch close now!"
The boys needed no second bidding. Strangely fascinated by the turbulent scene below, they leaned far out to watch the thrashing water. It was a strange combat of the sea. The monster fish appeared, in their panic at the advent among them of the killers, not to notice the oncoming steamer.
"Look close now and you'll see tall, upright fins moving about among 'em," sung out the captain.
"I see them!" cried Tom. "Are those the killers?"
"That's what. Sea tigers, they ought to call 'em. They're as bad as sharks," was the reply.
Mr. Dacre joined the boys. One of the biggest of the whales appeared to be an especial target for the "killers." They pursued it relentlessly in a body.
"Wow!" cried Tom suddenly, "look at that!" The big whale had leaped clear out of the water, breached, as the whalers call it. Its body shone in the sunlight like a burnished surface. They saw its whole enormous bulk as if it had been a leaping trout.
"He's as big as a house!" cried Jack.
"I've seen houses that were smaller!" laughed Mr. Dacre; "your bungalow, for example."
Down came the whale again with a splash that sent the spray flying as high as theNortherner'smast tops.
"How do they fight the whales?" Tom wanted to know, when their excitement over this episode had subsided.
"They tear them with their teeth," replied his uncle. "They get round them like dogs worrying a cat. They literally tear the poor creatures to bits piecemeal."
"Looks like one of the whale hunts that old 'Frozen Face' here must have had a hand in," said Jack. "Here, old sport, take a look for auld lang syne."
He loosened the lashings that held the totem in place in the bow, and while they all laughed, he tilted the old relic till "old Frozen Face," as they called him, actually appeared to be gazing at the conflict raging about them.
"See, the big fellow is acting kind of sleepy!" cried Jack suddenly.
"Yes, he must have got his death warrant," declared Mr. Dacre.
"Look! He's coming right across our bows!" yelled Sandy.
"Hey! Look out, captain, you'll hit him!" roared out Tom.
But even as he spoke, there came a heavy jar that almost stopped the sturdy steamer. Her steel bow had struck the whale amidships with stunning force. The craft appeared to quiver in every rib and frame.
The party on the fore deck, taken by surprise, went over like so many ninepins. They recovered themselves in a jiffy.
"Goodness! Don't run into any more whales! You'll have the ship stove in the first thing you know," cried Mr. Dacre. "I don't think——"
But a shout from Tom checked him.
"Jack! Where's Jack?"
"He was there a minute ago. By the totem."
"I know, but the totem has gone!"
"Great Scott, it must have gone overboard when that shock came and carried the boy with it."
They darted to the rail where Jack had last been seen. The next instant they set up a mingled cheer and groan. The cheer was in tokenthat Jack was alive, the groan was at his precarious position. Clinging to the totem as if it had been a life buoy, the lad was drifting rapidly astern, and toward him was advancing the mad turmoil of waters that signified the battle royal raging between the killers and their huge awkward prey.
As he saw his friends, the boy on the floating totem waved his hand in a plucky effort to reassure them. He shouted something encouraging that they could not catch. But the peril of his position was only too plain.
Only a short distance separated the killers and their frightened quarry from the drifting boy. Once in the midst of that seething turmoil his life would be in grave danger.
It was a moment for action, swift and decisive. Within a few seconds, although to Jack's excited friends it appeared infinitely longer, a boat had been lowered and the steamer's way checked. This latter was the more easy to accomplishfor the huge carcass impending at her bow had almost brought her to a standstill.
Manned by two sailors, the boat flew toward the imperiled boy. In the stern, with pale faces, stood Tom and Sandy, side by side with Mr. Dacre and Mr. Chillingworth. All carried rifles. Jack's position was a grave one as the school of whales, pursued by their remorseless foes, rushed down upon him. But those in the boat were in equal danger. One flip of those giant tails or a chance collision, and the stout boat would inevitably be sent to the bottom with a slender chance of its occupants being saved.
No wonder that little was said as they rowed swiftly toward Jack and that many anxious glances were cast at the waters astern, which were boiling like a maelstrom as the huge bodies of the whales and their foes dashed blindly hither and thither!
"THE TALE OF A WHALE."
"Give way, men!" implored Mr. Dacre anxiously, as the sailors bent to their task vigorously.
There was small need to admonish the men. The affair had literally become a race for life between the boat and the surging, battling whales. As they came alongside Jack, who was clinging to the totem, he gave an encouraging wave of the hand.
"Gee! I'm glad you've come. This water is pretty cold, I can tell you."
He was hauled on board with all swiftness.
"Don't forget old 'Frozen Face,'" he begged anxiously as he heard his uncle give orders to take to the oars again.
"No time to wait for him now, Jack," declared Mr. Dacre; "look there!"
He pointed behind them. Rushing toward the boat with the speed of an express locomotive was a mighty head. It parted the water like an oncoming torpedo boat. The boys gave a shout of alarm.
"It's coming straight for us!"
The sailors pulled on their oars till the stout ash wood bent as if it had been bamboo. Suddenly there came a loud crack. One of the oars had snapped. No doubt, as sometimes occurs, there was a flaw in the wood. The man who was pulling it rolled off his seat into the bottom of the boat.
As he did so, there came a second loud cry of affright. The whale was almost upon them. On either side of its enormous blunt head was a mountainous wall of water. Even if it did not hit them, the mighty "wash" that its onrush madewas likely to swamp the little craft, deeply loaded as she was.
The snapping of the oar had cost valuable time. A collision appeared to be inevitable. The second sailor seemed to be paralyzed with fright. He stared stupidly at the great bulk bearing down upon them.
With a sharp exclamation Mr. Dacre seized an oar out of the fellow's hand. In the stern of the boat was a "becket." He thrust the oar through this, and with a few powerful strokes moved the boat forward. It was then out of the direct path of the whale, but still in peril of the mighty wave the great body of the creature upreared.
It was at this juncture that Tom proved his mettle. He grabbed the other oar from the stupefied sailor's hands and thrusting it overboard on the port side tugged on it with all his might.
"That's right! Good lad! Head her into it!" cried Mr. Dacre, perceiving the object of Tom's maneuver, which was to force the boat bow firstagainst the towering wave sweeping down upon them. It was the only thing to do, and Tom's experience had taught him to act quickly.
Hardly had the boat's bow been swung till it was facing the onrushing wave, than, with a roar and smother of foam, a huge black bulk shot by, drenching them with spray. Carried away by excitement, Jack did a foolish thing. Raising his revolver he fired point blank at the huge wet side of the whale.
Instantly, as the bullet struck it, the great creature spouted. From its nostrils two jets of water shot up with a roar like that of escaping steam.
"Duck your heads!" roared out Mr. Chillingworth.
He had hardly time to get out the words before the spouted water came down with the force of a cloudburst upon the boat. It was half filled, but they had hardly time to notice this before the great wave that the speeding whale had causedto rise swept under them. The small boat, half full of water and overcrowded, rose sullenly. To the boys it seemed that they were rushed dizzily heavenward and then let down into an abyss that was fathomless. But a few seconds later a glad cry from Mr. Dacre announced that the danger had passed. The boat had ridden the wave nobly, and as for the killers and their quarry, all that could be seen of them was a fast receding commotion in the water.
"Phew, what a narrow escape!" gasped out Tom. "I thought we were goners sure that time!"
"Same here," agreed Sandy with deep conviction.
The strained faces of the others showed what they had thought. Mr. Dacre relieved the tension by ordering all hands to get busy and bale out the boat with some baling cans that were under the thwarts. They were in the midst ofthis task when Jack gave a sudden outcry and pointed over the side.
"What's up now, another whale?" cried Sandy, his face showing his alarm.
"Whale nothing!" scoffed Jack. "Look, it's the 'Good Genius of the Frozen North!'"
"The mascot!" cried Sandy.
"The mascot, sure enough," declared Mr. Dacre. "It undoubtedly helped to save Jack's life."
"Yes, after carrying me overboard first!" snorted Jack.
Sure enough, alongside the boat old "Frozen Face" was bobbing serenely about.
"We've got to take him back to the ship," declared Sandy.
"Yes, since he's inviting himself we can't be so impolite as to leave him," said Mr. Chillingworth.
Accordingly, a line was made fast to the totem and he was towed back to the ship and oncemore restored to office as official mascot in the bow of theNortherner. But the ship did not get under way at once following the adventure of part of her crew. The body of the wounded whale still hung limply to her bow. Sailors with tackles had to be called into requisition before the vast obstruction could be cleared.
By this time, as if by magic, thousands of birds had appeared. They fell upon the carcass, paying scant attention to the men at work on it, and fought and tore and devoured flesh and blubber as if they were famished. The captain said that they were whale birds, such as haunt the track of ships engaged in whale trade for weeks at a time.
"Gracious, we certainly are having exciting times!" said Tom as the ship once more got under way bound for her next port of call, Valdez, to the east of the great Kenai Peninsula.
"I expect you boys will have more exciting times later than any you have yet experienced,"remarked the captain, who happened to be passing along the deck at the time. "Your adventure with the whales reminds me of a yarn that a certain old Captain Peleg Maybe used to spin, of the perils of whaling. Like to hear it?"
The boys chorused assent. They knew something of the captain's ability as a spinner of yarns.
"Well, it appears, according to the way old Captain Peleg used to tell it, that his ship, theCachelot, was becalmed in these seas while out after whales," began the skipper with somewhat of a twinkle in his eye. "One day he decided to enliven the monotony of the constant doldrums by having his small dory lowered and going a-fishing after halibut. Well, the boat was lowered away and the skipper pulled off to some distance from the ship before he cast his lines.
"Now it seems strange, doesn't it, in an ocean five hundred miles wide and a thousand feet deep, that when he cast his light anchor overboard,the fluke of it should land in the blow-hole of a whale, which isn't much bigger than a man's fist?"
"What's a blow-hole?" demanded Sandy.
"Why, the orifice through which a whale spouts or sounds, as whalemen call it. You had a specimen of spouting when that whale Master Jack shot at gave you a shower bath. But, according to Captain Peleg, that was just what happened to him. The fluke of his anchor lodged right in that whale's nostril.
"As soon as the anchor hit that whale where the apple hit the man who discovered the law of gravitation, off he dashed, and naturally the boat being fast to him, off dashed the boat, too. The line was drawn as tight as the 'G' string on a bull fiddle.
"Cap'n Peleg was standing up in the stern just ready to cast a line over, when 'bang!' the fun started. He almost went overboard, but recovered himself in time to find that he was beingdrawn through the water at 'sixty-'leven' miles an hour or more. He said afterward it was the fastest he'd ever traveled. The wind hit his face as if he was coasting down a forty-five grade mountainside in a runaway six-cylinder auto without brakes or windshield.
"The cap'n said that the wind blew in his face so hard that every time he tried to get to the bow of the boat to cut the line, he was blown back again. All this time he couldn't think what he was hitched to. In fact he didn't do much thinking at all. It wasn't till the whale had gone what Peleg said must have been a hundred miles or more, that it turned plum round and headed right back for his ship again.
"They made the trip in as fast time as if he'd been hitched to a runaway cyclone. As they came near the ship there was the greatest excitement on board that they'd had since they ran into a herd of sperms up in Bering Sea.
"'Come aboard, cap!' yelled the mate.
"'Can't, you're only a way station,' yells back the skipper, 'and this is the Alaskan flyer.'
"Just then, the way Cap'n Peleg told it, up comes the whale to spout. Seems funny it didn't think of doing that before, but the way Peleg told it, the creature hadn't. Anyhow, just as they were passing the ship, up comes the whale and gives an almighty sneeze. That blew the anchor out of its nose and off it goes, while Peleg takes an oar and guides the boat alongside his ship after the most exciting ride he ever had. The boat was going so fast when the whale cut loose, that he didn't need to row her alongside; all he had to do was to steer her like a launch and then he had to make two circles to reduce speed before he dared try to reach his ship.
"Peleg said that when they hoisted the boat on deck they found she had stood the trip all right, except that paint on her sides was blistered and burned by reason of the friction kicked upby the terrific pace they had traveled through the water."
The boys burst into a roar of laughter at the conclusion of this surprising anecdote. The captain's eyes twinkled.
"Remember, I don't vouch for it," he said; "I'm only telling the tale to you as it was told to me."
"The tale of a whale," chuckled Tom.
"A whale of a tale, I guess you mean," spoke Jack.
"Captain, what did you say the name of that skipper was?" inquired Sandy innocently.
"Maybe," was the answer.
"Aweel," said the Scotch lad soberly, "I'm thinking he was well named."
WILD WATERS.
Early one morning the boys were awakened by the steady booming of theNortherner'swhistle. By the lack of vibration they knew that she was proceeding slowly. Wondering what could be the cause of the reduced speed and the constant raucous bellowing of the whistle, they hustled into their clothes and met each other on deck.
It was at once apparent what was the matter. Thick, steamy sea-fog enveloped the ship. Through a fleece of blanket-like vapor, she was forging ahead at a snail's pace. The boys made their way to the bridge. There they found their elders in anxious consultation. And there, too, the blowing of the whistle was explained to them. It was not, as they had at first thought, for fear of encountering other vessels that the big sirenwas kept incessantly roaring its hoarse warning.
The whistle was sounding to enable the captain to get his bearings in the dense smother. Sea captains along the part of the coast where they were now steaming, keep their whistles going in thick weather so as to catch the sound of an echo. When they hear one reverberating back through the fog, they know that they are in dangerous proximity to the cliffy, rockbound coast, and keep outward toward the open sea.
"Where are we?" was naturally the first thing that the boys wanted to know.
"We are somewhere off the coast of Afognok Island," was the rejoinder.
"That's a misnomer for it," declared Jack.
"How's that?" unsuspectingly inquired Tom.
"Why, it's the last place I'd think of calling A-fog-not," rejoined Jack, dodging quickly to a place of safety behind a stanchion.
"Are we near a harbor?" inquired Sandy.
"As well as I can tell, we ought to be off themouth of Kadiak Harbor soon after breakfast," rejoined the captain, squinting at the compass and giving a brief direction to the man at the wheel.
Sure enough, after breakfast the anchor was let go with a rattle and roar and theNorthernercame to a standstill. The whistle was blown in impatient short toots as a signal to the pilot to come off, if, as the captain was certain, they were really near the harbor mouth. Mr. Dacre was anxious to go ashore, as he had some friends living in the Alaskan town whom he had not seen for many years.
At last, out of the fog came the sound of oars, and then came a rough voice roaring out through a megaphone a message to theNortherner'scompany.
"Steamer, ahoy! Who are you?"
"Northerner, under charter, San Francisco to St. Michael," rejoined the captain succinctly. "Are you the pilot?"
"Aye! aye!" was bellowed back through the all-enveloping mist.
"Come aboard then, will you?" admonished the captain, and jerked the whistle cord sharply so as to give the pilot his bearings.
In a few minutes a big, capable-looking dory, manned by two Aleuts appeared alongside. In the stern sat a grizzled, red-faced man in oilskins. This was Bill Rainier, the pilot.
"How about taking her in, pilot?" demanded the captain anxiously.
The man grinned.
"All right, if you've no further use for her, cap," he rejoined. "If you don't mind piling her up on the rocks, we'll go right ahead."
"Mr. Dacre here is anxious to go ashore," responded the captain. "He has some goods to give to some friends of his, Mr. Beattie and his brother. How long before this fog is likely to lift?"
"Can't say," was the noncommittal reply; "itmay last a week. But tell you what you do. The Beatties are good friends of mine. I'll take your man ashore if you like."
But here arose a question about carrying the goods which Mr. Dacre had for his friends, who were storekeepers, and which he had brought up freight free. The question was finally decided in this way: A ship's boat would be used to transport the goods and Bill Rainier and Mr. Dacre would go ashore in her. The boys, who had begged to go ashore, too, would follow in the pilot's dory with the two natives as guides.
It did not take long to get out the goods from the hold and lower them overside. Then the boys scrambled down and took their places in the dory, while the natives, with grinning faces, stared at them.
Bill Rainier roared something at the Aleuts in their native tongue and off glided the dory into the fog, bearing three happy, excited boys as cargo.
Mr. Dacre, busy superintending the work of getting the goods transferred, did not notice their departure till some minutes later. Then he asked sharply:
"Where's that dory gone?"
"That's all right, cap," rejoined Bill easily, "I sent it ahead. Those Aleuts know the way as well as I do."
"Just the same, I wish they had waited for us," said Mr. Dacre with a slight frown.
"Oh, they'll be waiting for us when we get there," declared Bill confidently, and no more was said.
But when the steamer's boat reached the dock, no dory was there. Nor had any of the loungers hanging about seen one.
"Maybe they've got into another channel and gone down Wolf Island way," suggested Bill, looking rather grave. "Don't you worry, sir, they'll be along."
"Well, if an Aleut can do anything pig-headedand plum foolish, that's what he's a-goin' to do," opined the dock superintendent, who knew the facts in the case.
"I'd suggest we get up to the store with these goods," said Bill, "and by the time we're through that dory'll be here."
"But it should have reached here long ago," said Mr. Dacre. "I tell you, Rainier, I don't half like the look of this."
"No harm can come to 'em," Bill assured him.
But nevertheless, for some time both men stood motionless, with lips compressed, staring out into the blanket of fog without exchanging speech.
In the meantime, the dory was being rowed through the fog by the two stolid natives without the boys suspecting in the least that anything was wrong. As a matter of fact, the two natives, for reasons apparent to those who know the native Aleut, had decided to take a short cut through a passage behind Wolf Island. But the fog hadshut in thicker now and they were not at all sure of their bearings, skilled boatmen though they were. They rowed stolidly on and on through the dripping mist without speaking.
Tom was the first to notice that, although they had been rowing for an hour or more, the dory was still rolling on the heavy swells of the open sea. Suspecting that something was amiss, he signaled to the men to stop rowing. Without a change of expression, the flat-faced, lank-haired Aleuts rested on their oars.
Everything about the tossing dory was silent except for the swish and sigh of the waves as they swept under her. Listen as they would, they could hear no other sound from any quarter.
"I don't like the appearance of things much," said Tom in reply to a question from Jack; "we ought to have reached the dock by now."
"Looks that way to me," was the response.
"How far did the captain say it was?" inquired Sandy.
"Not more than half an hour's row from the ship. If these fellows know their business, we ought to be there by now."
"That's evident. How silent it all is," said Jack in a rather awestruck voice. "Surely if we were near the town even, we would be able to hear something."
"Just what I was thinking, more particularly as fog exaggerates sound," responded Tom. "What makes it worse, too, is that the steamer has stopped sounding her whistle. We can't even get back to her now."
"I wish we'd stuck to the pilot boat," put in Sandy dismally.
"See if you can get anything out of those Aleuts," suggested Jack.
But although Tom tried to get something understandable from the natives, they only grinnedand shook their heads. But at last they fell to their oars again.
"They don't know where they're going, but they're on the way," said Jack with a rather weak attempt at humor.
The sea began to come tumbling up astern of them in long black water rows that broke and whitened with spray now and again. The dory swung skyward and then plunged down as if bound for the bottom of the sea, as the swell nosed under her keel.
The boys exchanged serious glances. Their faces looked several shades paler than when they had left the steamer. The fog lent a ghastly grayish hue to everything. The dismal quality of the weather only added to their perplexity and alarm.
The Aleuts rowed steadily on without a shade of an expression on their greasy, yellow faces.
"Maybe they do know where they are going, after all," said Tom hopefully. "We may beashore in a short time and laughing over our scare."
The others did not reply and the Aleuts rowed stolidly on like two images as lifeless as Sandy's totem. But in spite of Tom's hopeful prophecy, there was no sign that they were approaching land and friends. Instead, the water grew rougher, the white caps more frequent. The boys exchanged looks of dismay. In all their lives they had never been in such wild waters as these.
THE TIDAL "BORE."
"What's the matter, Sandy?"
Tom spoke as the dory swung dizzily between heaven and earth.
"I—I'm scared!" confessed Sandy, turning a white face to his chum.
"Pshaw! Cheer up, Sandy," said Tom, trying to put a bold face on the matter, as was always his way.
"Yes, we'll come out of it all right," struck in Jack bravely, concealing his real fear of the outcome of the adventure.
"We've been in worse fixes than this before and got through all right," supplemented Tom, and Sandy appeared to pluck up some heart from the confident tones of his companions.
"Tell you what," suggested Jack suddenly, "I've got an idea."
"What is it?"
"Why, to find out where we are. It's no use asking those wooden Indians; they wouldn't say if they did know, and couldn't if they didn't."
"Well, but what's your plan?" asked Tom impatiently.
"Just this. You remember how the captain on theNorthernerfound out when he was dangerously near to the coast by blowing the whistle and waiting for the echo?"
Tom nodded.
"Well, why can't we do the same by hollering at the top of our voices?"
"Good boy! I see your idea. If we're near land, we ought to catch the echo of our voices."
"That's the scheme exactly."
The boat was tossing too violently to stand up in it, but the boys placed their hands to theirmouths, funnel-wise, and set up as loud an uproar as they could.
Sure enough, back out of the fog faint and obscure, but still audible, came an unmistakable reply.
"Hul-l-o-o-o-o!"
Their faces brightened. Even Sandy broke into a grin.
"We're aboon the land!" he cried out.
"Must be," declared Tom positively.
He looked at the two natives, who had been regarding the proceedings with no more interest than they appeared to display in anything else.
"Row that way," he ordered in a loud, clear voice, pointing off into the fog in the direction from whence the answer to their shouting had come. The natives obeyed without a word. Whether they understood him or not Tom never knew, but they appeared to apprehend his vigorous gesture well enough.
As they rowed along, the boys repeated theirpractice, and every time the echo came louder and more clearly.
"Wish we'd thought of that before," sighed Jack, "we might be in the harbor by this time."
"Better late than never," Tom assured him cheerily.
Before long they could hear the roar of waves breaking on the coast. The natives apparently heard them, too, and kept the boat out a little. The angry sound of the breaking waters was sufficient warning that no landing could be attempted there.
"We must be running along the coast," decided Tom.
"How can you guess that?" inquired Jack.
"Yes, I dinna ken how you know, unless you hae the second sight," agreed Sandy, who had in a large measure recovered his self-possession at the idea of the proximity of land.
"Easy enough," responded Tom, "the echo onlycomes from one side. If we were in a harbor or channel it would come from both sides."
"So much the worse," declared Jack. "We know now that we are not anywhere near Kadiak, for that is rock walled on either side and we should get the echo from both directions."
"Still, it's something to know that we are even within touch of land," said Tom, and in this they all agreed.
After a while the roaring of the surge grew less loud. This gave Tom an idea.
"We must be near to an inlet or something that will afford a landing place," he said, as the thunder of the surf diminished and finally almost died away. "What do you say if we go ashore?"
"What kind of a country will we find?" objected Jack.
"It couldn't be worse than tossing about in this dory, could it?" demanded Tom. "At any rate, we might find people ashore and a shelter and some food."
Both Jack and Sandy agreed to this, and Tom made motions to the native oarsmen that they were to make a landing if possible. In response to his gesture the men nodded as if they understood what was wanted, and began rowing directly toward the direction in which they had guessed the landing place lay.
As they neared the shore, which was still, however, invisible through the mist, the surf thunder grew louder. But the natives did not appear alarmed. No doubt they were thoroughly used to handling their craft in the surf and such proved to be the case.
When they got quite close to the shore and the boys could see a dark outline against the mist which they judged was a wall of cliffs, the two natives stopped rowing and back-watered. They did this till a big wave came along behind the dory, lifting its stern high in the air. Then, with a piercing yell they dug their blades into the water.
The dory was flung forward like a stone from a sling. The men leaped out as the wave broke, and ran the craft amidst the surf and spume high and dry upon what proved to be a sandy beach in a little covet between two frowning battlements of rocky cliff.
The boys scrambled out. Even though they had not the remotest idea where they were, the touch of solid earth felt good under their feet after that blundering voyage in the mist. But their surroundings were cheerless enough. Above them, except where the soft blanket of fog obscured the view, towered the dripping walls of black rock, all moist and shiny with the mist.
On the beach, the surf thundered and screamed as the waves broke and receded. Now and then the sharp shriek of some sea-bird rose startlingly clear above the voice of the sea. The boys felt lonely and wretched. But this feeling, seemingly, was not shared by the stoical Aleuts. They drew out pipes and began to smoke in silence. Theyappeared to pay no attention to the boys whatever, and Tom began to get angry at their indifference. After all, their blundering had placed the boys in their predicament, and Tom felt, and so did his companions, that the natives ought to make at least some effort to right their error.
"Here, you," he said angrily, addressing one of them, "where are we?"
The man shook his head. If he knew, he did not betray it by a change of expression or a spoken syllable.
"Ask him about getting something to eat," said Sandy. "Mon, but I'm famished."
Tom tried to convey this idea to the natives in speech, but it was plain they did not understand. Then he fell back on the sign language. Here he succeeded better. He pointed to his mouth and then rubbed his stomach, a sign understood from the Arctic Ocean to Statenland. The native grinned and gave over smoking a minute. He nodded his head.
"Bye'm bye," he said, "bye'm bye."
"Well, at least he understands that much English," cried Tom triumphantly. "I wish I could tell him to hurry up. 'Bye'm bye' might mean any time."
But in answer to further efforts, the native only nodded and smiled amiably. After a while, during which the boys strolled about disconsolately, the natives smoked their pipes out, and then began to talk in their guttural, grunting tongue. Of course, the boys could not understand what they were saying, but as well as they could judge the two men were coming to some sort of a decision. Suddenly they got to their feet and made off through the fog at a swift pace. The boys ran after them, shouting, but the Aleuts speedily vanished.
It was a pity that the boys could not know that the two natives, after a discussion, had decided to set off across the island to a fishing settlement for help. For it was Wolf Island onwhich the party had landed and the natives had only delayed to get a smoke before starting for aid. But of this the boys knew nothing.
Hour after hour they waited with despairing faces for the two Aleuts, whom they thought had basely deserted them. At length Tom reached a decision.
"Those fellows have left us. We'll leave them," he declared.
"How?" inquired Jack.
"In the dory."
"Which way will we go?"
"Toward the direction from which we came. We are bound to get somewhere, and at any rate the fog seems to be lifting. We can keep track of the shore by the echo, and so find our way back to Kadiak."
"The sea's pretty rough," objected Jack.
"The dory's a good sea boat, and anyway it isn't as rough as it was. I'm for pulling out of here right away before we waste any more time."
"So am I," agreed Jack, and Sandy, although he looked rather sober at the thought of venturing out on the big swells again, assented to Tom's plan.
By good luck they managed to get the dory launched on a big sea, and almost before they knew it, they were out on the tossing waves once more. The dory proved heavy and hard to pull, but the boys all had well-seasoned muscles and they made fairly good progress.
They were laboriously toiling in the direction Tom had pointed out, when Jack gave a shrill cry of real fear.
"Look! Look there!" he cried.
For a moment they all stopped rowing and gazed ahead.
Bearing down on them was a towering, walllike ridge of white, foamy waves. They were higher than their heads, even had the boys been standing upright in the boat. The mighty phalanx of water appeared to be rushing downon them with the purpose of engulfing them in its maw.
"What is it?" gasped Jack, cowering.
"More whales!" shouted Sandy.
But it was something far worse than any creature of the deep. Although they did not know it, the mighty waves that it appeared certain would presently engulf them, were caused by the tide-bore, the irresistible wall of water that twice each day sweeps down the east coast of Kadiak between the islands that form what is virtually an inland channel. The mighty forces of the Pacific tide and the Japan current unite to make the titanic tide-rip which now threatened the boys.
With blanched faces they watched its oncoming. Escape was impossible. Sandy covered his eyes and crouched in the bottom of the dory. Jack shook with fear. Tom alone kept a grip on his faculties.
"Get her round. Let her head into the wave quartering, or we're goners!" he shouted.
Swirling and breaking and crying out with a thousand voices, the parapet of water marched down on the seemingly doomed boat.
ADRIFT ON THE OCEAN.
The dory was a better sea boat than they had imagined. In a situation where a craft of another build would not have lived an instant, she succeeded in riding the first onslaught of the tide-bore. In another instant, Tom and Jack had her around with stern to the stampeding seas and were being borne swiftly along.
Alongside, a thousand angry, choppy waves reached up like hungry hands, as though determined to come on board and drag the craft to her doom. The manner in which the boat handled surprised and delighted Tom, and Jack was no less pleased. True their position was still a highly precarious one, but at least the watery grave they had dreaded had not yet engulfed them.
Sandy sat up in the bottom of the boat and looked about with wondering eyes.
"We're all right the noo?" he asked.
"I won't say that," rejoined Tom, "but at least we have got over the first great danger."
"What are we doing?"
"Riding along on the top of the tide-rip, for that's what it must be, and now I remember hearing of such a thing on this coast."
"How long will it keep on, I wonder?" questioned Sandy.
"I don't know. I suppose till the tide is full or till we get out of the passage that we must be in."
The others looked at him silently.
"But this is a dandy boat," went on Tom cheerily, plying his steering oar, for there was no need to row in that rushing current, "she rides like a chip."
Even a powerful steamer, if caught where the boys were, could have done little more than theywere doing to meet the emergency. Her only course would have been to run before the furious tide. The boys began to be resigned to their fortune. The fog seemed to lift occasionally now and then, shutting down, however, as densely as ever between the intervals of lighter weather.
Wild screams of sea birds that flew by like spirits of mist assailed their ears. Now and then the herculean splash of a great dolphin feeding in the tide came close alongside and startled them smartly.
True it was that they were still afloat and now appeared likely to remain so, but each moment was carrying them rapidly further from their friends and closer and closer to dangers whose nature they could only surmise.
As Sandy thought of all this, his fears began to return. His lip quivered.
"I wish we'd never left the ship," he said at last.
"That's a fine way to talk," spoke Tom sternly."When you're in a scrape the only thing to do is to try to get out of it as best you can."
"That's the stuff," assented Jack, "but if we only had something to eat, I'd feel a little better."
"Maybe there's something under that stern seat," suggested Tom, indicating the place he meant. Sandy raised the seat, which tilted back disclosing a locker, and gave a cry of delight. Two tins of beef, some packages of crackers and a big pie reposed there. Evidently Bill Rainier, the pilot, believed in carrying lunch with him when he went out in a fog.
"Jiminy crickets," roared Jack, as one after another Sandy held up the eatables, "just think, those have been there all this time! Let's eat and forget our troubles."
"Better go slow," admonished Tom, no less pleased, however, than the others at this unexpected good fortune.
Jack cut open the meat tins with his knife and they fell to eating as they discussed their situation.They made a good meal, not forgetting liberal portions of the pie. But the lack of water troubled them. Crackers and salt beef with dried raisin pie do not make a lunch calculated to allay thirst. But they were in no mood to complain. The food alone heartened them wonderfully and put them in a mood to face their dilemma less despairingly.
Little by little the waves began to grow smaller. The current grew less swift.
"We must have reached some place where the channel widens and the tide can spread out," observed Tom, noticing this. "Now if the fog would only lift, maybe we could get ashore some place."
"Let's try the oars again," suggested Jack.
"That's a fine idea if we only knew where to row to," rejoined Tom. "I'm afraid we'll have to drift till the fog lifts. I've no more idea which way our course lies than the man in the moon."
"Same here. I'm all twisted up like a ball of yarn," admitted Jack.
Although they had been afloat for such a long time, it was still daylight. At that time of year in those regions it is light almost all day long. This was a good thing, for if darkness had overtaken them they would doubtless have become even more alarmed than they were. For some time they drifted on, when all at once a sudden shift of the wind came. The fog was whipped into white ropy wreaths that drifted off like smoke. And there before them, not half a mile off, was a fair sized bay edged by rocky cliffs, but green and tree-grown close by the water. The blue bay, smooth and calm compared to the open sea, led back into the heart of a noble mountain panorama. Beyond the coast hills were snow-covered peaks and inaccessible valleys. Between the hills that formed the bay, the vegetation was plainly fresh and verdant.
"Hurray!" shouted Jack, carried away by enthusiasm at the sight of land once more.
Tom checked him gently.
"Remember we have no idea where we are yet," he said. "This country is sparsely settled and we may have stumbled on some desert part of it."
Jack's face fell, and Sandy, who had been about to share his rejoicing, remained silent.
"Can't you figure out what land this is?" asked Jack.
"I've not the remotest idea. I'm like you, all twisted up as to locality."
"That bore gave us such a shaking up, I couldn't tell east from west," observed Sandy.
"At any rate, that land yonder is no illusion," declared Tom cheerily. "Come on, boys, get busy with the oars and we'll be ashore in no time."
"I hope it is inhabited," said Jack.
"Same here; but that remains to be seen. At any rate, judging by the green trees and grass there's water there from the mountains beyond. We can stop some place ashore and make camp."
SHIFTING FOR THEMSELVES.
This was voted a good idea. As they drew closer to the shore the aspect of the little bay became more inviting.
Tom pointed to a strip of beach which bordered a rather deeper indentation on the edge of the inlet.
"I guess that's the place for us to land," he said. "Looks like there is water there and a good beach."
Wearily—for now that the strain of their wild ride on the tide-rip was over, they felt exhausted—wearily they pulled on the oars, moving the heavy dory slowly over the placid waters of the inlet. The sea, its force broken by an outcropping reef across the mouth of the miniature bay, broke gently on the shore, and it wasan easy matter to make a landing. The dory was pulled as far up the beach as they in their tired state could manage, and its painter made fast to a stunted willow tree.
The beach, bordered with trees and stunted shrubs, rose upward. They mounted it and found themselves on a yielding, marshy carpet of moss. It was the tundra of Alaska. It would have made hard walking to cross it, but while they were pondering the advisability of doing so, Tom made a discovery.
"Look! a path!" he exclaimed. "It runs right along here."
He pointed to a beaten path, plainly enough made by human beings, leading along the top of the "sea-wall" between the tundra marsh and the beach.
"There must be people here. Somebody must have made it."
"Evidently, and look over there, that's the answer."
Tom had followed the path slightly in advance of the others. Now he had come to a halt, pointing toward a singular structure at some little distance, toward which it was clear that the path led. The hut was shaped like a low beehive and appeared to be built of drift-wood and peat.
"It's a native hut of some sort," declared Jack, rather an alarmed look coming into his eyes.
The boys' experience with Aleuts had not inclined them to place much confidence in the natives, for it will be recalled that our heroes thought that their two boatmen had deliberately left them on the beach.
"There's no smoke coming from it," said Tom.
"In that case, maybe it is deserted."
"Perhaps so. But we had better be careful."
"That's right, after what we experienced from those two rascals of the pilot's, I'm taking no chances with these people."
Tom did not confide to his chums another bit of information that he had acquired concerningthis part of Alaska from the captain of theNortherner. This was that in a part of the country in which they were cast away, the native tribes are ugly and vicious, never visiting a white settlement except when they must, and refusing to have any intercourse with Caucasians.
He had heard many tales of the bloodshed and theft attributed to these renegade natives, and as may be imagined, the thought that perhaps they had stumbled on a camp of them was not a pleasant one. However, Tom said nothing for fear of unnecessarily scaring his companions. The landscape looked wild enough to form the dwelling place of any desperate natives who, for any reason, wished to evade the United States revenue cutters and missionary ships.
But the need of water was imperative, and judging by the greater luxuriance of the trees and grass near the hut, there was water there. In fact, the presence of the hut in that site arguedthe existence of water near by. They watched the solitary structure for some minutes. But no sign of life appeared about it. Seemingly, they were the only human beings for many miles in that wild country.
"Well, come on," said Tom at length; "anything is better than enduring this thirst any longer, and I'm pretty sure there must be water yonder."
They followed the path and soon found themselves on the threshold of the hut. Its door, a clumsy contrivance, was ajar, and littered all about were fish bones, scales, and bones and remnants of animals. A rank odor assailed their nostrils, the true smell of an Aleut settlement.
Tom strode boldly forward and was about to cross the threshold when something dashed out of the hut, making him jump back with an involuntary shout of alarm. For a minute he was sure they had been attacked by whoever dwelt within. His companions, too, echoed his cry, butthe next instant they all burst out laughing. What had alarmed them so was a small red fox that had darted off like a flash.
"That shows us no one is inside," chuckled Tom, turning to his comrades. "I guess we've dispossessed the sole inhabitant."
They crossed the threshold and found themselves in a low, smoke-begrimed structure with a dome-shaped roof. In the middle of the roof was a hole presumably for the smoke to escape, although soot hung thick on the rafters that supported the grass-sods, peat and earth that formed the covering of the rude dwelling.
Tom bent and examined a heap of ashes in the middle of the dirt floor under the hole.
"Nobody has been here for a long time," he declared, "except wild beasts."
"I wonder who put it up?" inquired Sandy.
"Trappers, maybe; but most likely Aleuts," replied Tom. "I've seen pictures of their huts andthey are very like this one. I never thought we'd have to take up quarters in one, though."
"Hoot! d'ye think we'll have to stay here lang?" asked Sandy.
"Impossible to tell," rejoined Tom. "Of course, as soon as they find we're gone they will start on a search for us; but unless they find those rascally Aleuts they'll never know what became of us, unless they stumble on us accidentally."
There was a brief but eloquent silence, which Tom dispelled cheerily.
"The first job is to look for water," said he. "Let's explore a little."
They left the hut, but before they went Tom picked up an old tin pail that lay on the floor in a corner. He did not explain what he wanted this for. As he had expected, where the luxuriant growth flourished, was a stream which ran down crystal clear and cold as ice from the snow mountains to the sea.
The sight of this made the boys forget all their troubles temporarily. They lay flat on their stomachs and drank to repletion. Never had anything tasted half so good as the waters of that mountain stream. Their thirst quenched, Tom methodically filled his pail with water and then started back.
"What are you going to do?" demanded Jack in some astonishment.
"Clean out the hut and get ready for supper while you fellows catch some fish."
"Fish for supper? Where?" demanded Jack.
"Right in this creek. I saw them dart off when we came down, but they will soon be back."
"How about hooks?"
"I saw some in the bottom of the boat. And by turning over some of those stones, I guess you'll find some sort of things that will do for bait. Hurry up now, boys, and while you're getting the tackle, bring the rest of the grub and the oars out of the boat."
Glad to be busy, the boys all hurried off on their tasks. When Jack and Sandy had brought the oars and tackle from the boat, they set off on their fishing expedition. Long alder limbs broken off from the bushes that overhung the creek, served them for poles. Under the rocks, as Tom had surmised, they found fat, white grubs in abundance. The fish bit hungrily, for it was still early in the year. Soon they each had a fine string. With lighter hearts, for now they had at least the essentials of existence, they set out on the return journey to the hut.
When they got back, they found that Tom had made a fire, using matches from his water-proof box, which none of the boys would have gone without. It crackled up cheerily. When he had a good bed of red coals, Tom split the fish which the others had scaled and cleaned, and held them on sharpened sticks above the blaze till they were cooked. With crackers and the broiled fish they made a rough but sufficient meal.
There was plenty of firewood in the hut and they made a roaring blaze, so that, lacking blankets as they did, they would not get cold. In a corner was a pile of sweet-scented dried grass, evidently used as beds by whoever had occupied the hut before them. On this they threw themselves down while the fire glowed cheerily, warming the hut comfortably since the door had been closed.
Despite the strangeness of their position on this wild, unknown coast, they were too weary to remain awake long. Outside came occasionally the cry of a bird or the booming of the sea, but it all acted as a lullaby to the three tired boys.
One by one their eyes closed and they dropped off into the deep, dreamless slumber of exhaustion. Never, in fact, had they slept more profoundly and peaceably than they did in the smoky native hut on the wild shores upon which they had been so strangely cast away.