CHAPTER XXVHUNTING THE SEA-OTTER
Although the long line of bidarkies of which Phil Ryder and his Aleut companion had started in pursuit were apparently moving very slowly, as seen from a distance of two miles, they were in reality skimming the water with swiftness and in perfect silence. Their occupants, while wielding their double-bladed paddles without a splash, and keeping the canoes well abreast of each other at intervals of a few hundred feet, maintained a keen watch for the slightest token of a sea-otter’s presence.
Suddenly one man makes a silent signal that is flashed in an instant along the entire line. He has caught a glimpse of one of the coveted animals apparently asleep. Although no word is spoken, and no sound comes from end to end of the little fleet, the sharp-witted animal takes the alarm almost at the moment of discovery, and dives like a shot to the very bottom of the sea, leaving only a bubbling wake to mark his descent.
A few powerful strokes bring the bidarkie of the discoverer to the spot. There it is abruptly halted, and the hunter holds his paddle aloft while the others skim over the water like a flight of birds, until they have ranged themselves in a great circle half a mile in diameter about him. The otter must come up to breathe within fifteen or twenty minutes, and when he does so some one of the thirty pairs of keen-sighted eyes so eagerly watching for him is sure to detect the act,even though he should show only the tip of his nose. A wild yell announces the discovery; the hunted animal again dives; another bidarkie, with uplifted paddle, marks the spot, and again the circle is formed. Thus the unfortunate otter, coming to the surface at shorter and shorter intervals, is made to dive and dive again, never being allowed to draw a full breath, until at the end of two or three hours he floats on the surface completely exhausted, and falls an easy victim to the nearest spear.
To an uninterested observer it is a pitiful sight to see a defenceless and harmless creature thus hunted to its death. At the same time the pursuit is possessed of the fascination that always attends the matching of human skill against animal cunning and powers of endurance. Then, too, there is the excitement of ever-present danger in thus venturing into the open sea, almost beyond sight of land, in such cockle-shells as Aleutian bidarkies. In that region of sudden squalls and fierce gales, dense fogs that settle over the water like vast smothering blankets almost without warning—huge whales and other sea-monsters that are always rising to the surface, and whose slightest touch would overturn a bidarkie as though it were a feather—the uncertainties of an otter-hunter’s life are many and constant.
Two surrounds and captures had been made by the hunting-fleet in which we are interested ere, some time in the afternoon, it was finally overtaken by the bidarkie containing Phil Ryder and his Aleut companion. They were just in time to participate in a third surround, every movement of which the white lad watched with lively interest.
This was the longest chase of the day, and the sun was disappearing behind an ominous-looking cloudbank before it was concluded. During its continuancethere was no opportunity to communicate with the hunters. The moment the capture was effected the entire fleet was headed towards a distant island, barely discernible to the eastward, and was urged with all speed in that direction.
Under the circumstances there was nothing for our friends to do but to follow them, and it is doubtful if Phil could have induced Kooga to do otherwise even had he been so inclined. He was not, however, for he realized that it would now be impossible to regain their starting-point of the morning before dark. Besides, he had not yet gained the information concerning the schooner’s movements for which he had set out. So he must spend a night with the otter-hunters, and with the first streak of daylight he would set forth on his return journey to Oonimak and Serge.
“Poor Serge! what a lonely night this will be for him,” reflected Phil, remembering his own brief experience of the evening before. “It can’t be helped now, though, and I’m awfully glad it isn’t my fault.” In spite of this the lad’s conscience insisted on whispering, “You know you came out to see the otter-hunt rather than to gain information, for Serge could have done that much better than you.”
“Pshaw!” muttered Phil, “that’s not true, to begin with; and even if it were, what difference will a single night make, anyway? I guess Serge can stand it, for he is more used to such things than I am. Then, too, I am certain the schooner has not gone back yet, for she couldn’t have passed without me seeing her.”
When the little fleet finally made a landing by the last of the twilight, and after a wearisome paddle of many miles, it was on the small outlying and terribly rugged island of Saanak, the favorite haunt of the sea-otter and the point at which the bulk of the world’s supply of this immensely valuable fur is obtained.
Here the swarthy hunters glanced askance at the white lad, and not until Kooga had given a long explanation of how he happened to be there, and a glowing account of Phil’s wonderful skill with the rifle, did they consent to admit him to a share of their scanty food supplies and still scantier shelter.
Although Phil did not, of course, understand a word of all this, he guessed what was being said, and was provoked that he should have placed himself in such a position. To his further chagrin, he could not discover one among all the hunters who could speak a word of English. So Serge had been right, and he had acted the part of a headstrong fool, after all.
While his hunger forced him to eat a share of the hunters’ supper, which consisted of nearly raw meat, sea-biscuit so hard that they made his teeth ache, and a cup of tea as strong as lye, he did not relish it, and his thoughts turned with longing to the once despised cabin mess of theSeamew. As for the dainty home-table presided over by his dear Aunt Ruth, he dared not think of it.
If his supper was bad, how much worse were the sleeping accommodations that the bitter chill of the night forced him to share! As the cold wind swept in from the sea with ever-increasing force and charged with stinging sleet, it compelled all hands to crawl into the few wretched little tents, open at both ends, that afforded their only shelter from the inclement weather. They had no blankets, nor bedding of any description, and were forced to huddle together for warmth.
As poor Phil thus lay on the bare rocks between Kooga and another not over-clean Aleut, his mind once more reverted to his far-distant home, with its innumerable comforts, that he had once accepted as a matter of course, without a thought of how they were provided or any feeling of gratitude for them.
“Oh dear! what wouldn’t I give for a few of those things at this minute!” reflected poor Phil. “A warm house, for instance, and a clean soft bed, and clean clothes and soap and towels, and a brush and comb, and, above all, for one of Aunt Ruth’s delicious suppers. But what is the use! I can’t have them, and I am having just what I set out for—a trip to Alaska and a sea-otter hunt. This misery will be over in a few hours at any rate, for I shall make Kooga take me out of this in the morning, and in a week or so from now I shall be looking back on it from Sitka, and telling of it as a most interesting experience.”
Alas for Phil’s hopes! When the morning light came it revealed such a mighty sea rolling in under the lashings of a southwesterly gale, and furiously hurling itself against the rock-bound coast, as would have prohibited the launching of a life-boat, much more a bidarkie. For three days did the gale continue, and for three days did it hold Phil Ryder and the native hunters close prisoners on the island of Saanak. At first the former raged at his detention almost as furiously as did the gale itself, though after a while he wisely determined to make the best of the situation, and discover whatever good points it possessed.
As the wind came off the sea, they could build as many fires as they chose without fear of alarming the wily game of which they had come in pursuit. Thus they could cook food and make tea, which, under the circumstances, was of inestimable comfort. In these occupations, together with smoking and sleeping, most of the hunters spent their time. On the second day, Kooga, taking his rifle and inviting Phil by signs to accompany him, set forth in search of sea-lions, which are highly esteemed as food by all natives of those northern regions. They also use its skin in making their boats, its intestines for their water-proof garments,its back-sinews in place of thread, while the oil extracted from its blubber affords them both light and fuel.
As the sea-lion is extremely shy and difficult to approach in the daytime, he is generally hunted on moonlit nights. He is more than twice as large as the fur-seal, but, like the latter, is a fearless swimmer, and delights to sport in the heaviest seas at the very point where they break and hurl themselves against a rock-bound coast. Like the seal, too, the sea-lion loves to haul itself from the water, and, climbing the most rugged rocks, lie and bask for hours.
Realizing the difficulty as well as the importance of obtaining a sea-lion, as food was becoming scarce in camp, Kooga took Phil with him on this hunt, in the hope that the lad might be induced to make some of his marvellous shots. Nor was he mistaken, for,after a long and painful stalkingof a small herd of these animals,Phil shot and killed twoat a distance of over five hundred yards. On their way back to camp, where the entire body of hunters was turned out to go for their game, Phil had the further good-fortune to shoot an otter that was sporting far out in the surf. He waited to secure its body, while Kooga ran on with the joyful news.
“AFTER LONG AND PAINFUL STALKING PHIL SHOT TWO SEA-LIONS”
“AFTER LONG AND PAINFUL STALKING PHIL SHOT TWO SEA-LIONS”
As the natives came trooping up the beach they regarded the young white hunter with respect and admiration, while they greeted with extravagant delight the courtesy that led Phil to turn his first sea-otter into the common stock of the party. On the following day, after hours of weary and motionless watching, he succeeded in killing two more otters, one of which he gave to Kooga, while keeping the skin of the other for himself.
The gale blew itself out during the third night, and very early in the morning of the fourth day Philawoke his Aleut companion, to whom he indicated by signs that it was time for them to be gone. Upon this Kooga woke another native, and talked earnestly to him for a few moments. Then, to Phil’s amazement, this fellow turned to him and said, in tolerable English:
“Why you go? Schooner gone three day, bime-by. You no catch him. Better you stay, hunt, catch plenty money. No go.”
“You miserable rascal!” shouted Phil, seizing the speaker by the collar and shaking him violently. “You have been able to talk United States all this time, have you, and wouldn’t? Now you want me to stay and hunt for you! Well, I’ll see you hanged first! So you tell Kooga that if he isn’t ready inside of five minutes to carry me back to where he brought me from, I’ll fix his miserable rifle so that it will never shoot again.”
This awful threat, together with the white lad’s furious aspect and loud voice, so alarmed the natives that they were only too glad to get rid of so dangerous a character by letting him go in peace. So in less than five minutes later he and Kooga had launched the bidarkie and were off. It was noticeable, however, that the latter left his cherished rifle behind, probably being afraid that he who could shoot so magically would bewitch it.