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The Ice Pilot Part 3

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It was a favourite sealing ground; few whales were to be found there.

The season was generally too late to capture any bowheads on account of the ice barrier which held back the s.h.i.+ps.

"I don't recommend it," he said, simply. "I've been there twice. First time was in the _Beluga_. We didn't fasten to anything that year. The second time was in the old _Norwhale_-Captain Gully commanding. We fastened to one head close by the Siberian sh.o.r.e. That was all. It's barren waters unless you can put the s.h.i.+p in early."

"Can't you do that?"

"Not always; sometimes. I've seen the pack ice so thick at the Pribilofs, or just north of St. Paul Island, that it was late in July when we broke through and reached Bering Strait. We got nothing but some trade stuff from the natives that season. It was too late to find bowheads; they'd taken the Northeast Pa.s.sage and gone through to Baffin Bay."



"Just the same," said Marr, "I'd like to try for the Gulf of Anadir.

Ever hear of Disko Island?"

Stirling narrowed his eyes. Disko Island was the very heart of the richest sealing ground in all the world-outside of the Pribilofs. It belonged to Russia, and around it were gunboats of England, j.a.pan, and the United States.

"I know it well," he said, dryly. "There's plenty of seals there, but darn few bowheads!"

Marr glanced at Whitehouse, then his eyes travelled the circle and rested upon the chart. He followed Stirling's pointing finger.

"It's a blym shame!" blurted out the English mate. "It's an outrage that them Russians got all them nice little pelts. What's the 'arm in lookin'

the island over? Who's going to bother now? Who's running Russia, anyway?"

"The Bolsheviki," said Marr. "What do you say we take a look at the island? Stirling can put us through the early ice. We'll skirt the Siberian sh.o.r.e afterward. I want to drop in at East Cape, they say trading is good there."

Stirling gripped a gla.s.s and raised it to his lips. He stared at the chart, then fastened a penetrating glance which bored into the little skipper's brain, and smiled faintly as Marr remained silent.

"I'm willing," he said. "I'll take you anywhere. We're all together. I see no harm in looking over Disko Island."

"All we want," said Cushner, rising, "is to follow the skipper, here, and keep our jaw tackle closed. He'll bring results!"

Stirling was watching Marr's face, which lightened perceptibly.

The captain of the _Pole Star_ thrust his hand out, palm upward. "Well spoken," he said. "I'll guarantee good results!"

Marr rolled up the chart with a swift whirl of his hands, then rose and stared at Baldwin, who had remained silent.

"Have you everything aboard?" the little skipper asked.

"Yes; we're coaled. I can safely say the engine-room force is complete.

Naturally we'll have to recoal at whatever point we can on the Siberian coast or at Unalaska. The bunkers are chockablock, but you know that ice work takes the steam. And coal is high; it'll be about twenty dollars a ton at Dutch Harbor or Point Barrow, if there's any there at all."

"Confounded little!" blurted Stirling. "There's an on-sh.o.r.e whaling station there and a missionary settlement. But"-the Ice Pilot paused and smiled at a memory-"there's a spot on the coast east of Point Barrow where we can dig out all the coal we need. I know it. I was there in the old _Northern Lights_, and I saw more coal than you could find in Pittsburgh. There's mountains of it hidden under the snow."

"That's fine!" Marr exclaimed. "We'll fill the bunkers there. Now everybody stand up and we'll drink a final toast to the success of our venture. What'll the toast be?"

"To a full hold of bone!" Stirling suggested.

Marr glanced at Whitehouse. The mate winked and stared at his gla.s.s.

"I'd say," he muttered, "that there's a better toast. Let's all drink to success at Disko Island, where the seals are."

Stirling grew thoughtful. Again the subject of seals had come up, and he glanced from face to face about him. The circle of men who comprised the afterguard of the _Pole Star_ would have supported most any desperate enterprise. None was a young man; all were experienced.

Stirling set down his gla.s.s. Marr had stepped toward the after bulkhead of the cabin, and rested his hand on the piano.

A slight b.u.mp, as if a small boat had touched the outer run of the s.h.i.+p, sounded, and this was followed by steps on the deck overhead. Voices echoed, and a low call drifted through the open portholes.

The captain turned with a quick jerk and glanced upward, his hand lifted for silence. There came a knocking on an after door. This knocking was repeated.

"Good-night, gentlemen!" Marr exclaimed. "Get to your bunks and turn in.

I'll expect you at sunup. We'll sail then!"

Stirling followed the big second mate, who knew the run of the s.h.i.+p. As they stood at last in the waist where the shadow of the dark deck house lay across the planks, two riding lights shone through the mist, and a flare marked the cap of the rakish funnel. High steam was in the _Pole Star's_ boilers.

"Who came aboard?" asked Stirling with directness.

Cushner gripped his palms, gulped, and stroked his long, pointed beard, then turned and stared at the low rail which was over the break of the quarter-deck.

"A pa.s.senger!" he said.

"A pa.s.senger?"

"Sure! Didn't you hear the voice? It was a woman's. At least, it sounded that way to me. They're always bad luck at sea."

"I've heard tell they are," said Stirling.

CHAPTER IV-ON THE SPARKLING SEA

The pall which lay around the _Pole Star_ was like an ultramarine depth.

The narrow circle of visible waters rose and fell sullenly, while aloft the taper spars merged into the mist. Now and then a grinding jerk of the anchor chain sent a vibrating shudder from stem to jack staff. Below the holystoned decks the watch snored, unaware that the tide hung at its flood and that a wan yellow sun was rising over the Coast Range like a paper lantern in a summer's garden.

Stirling moved restlessly, his eyes opened like a quiet child's, and he surveyed his cabin. The events of the night and the early morning rushed back to him, and he blinked as he caught a reflection of his face in a white-bordered mirror at the head of the bunk.

He sprang to the deck, ducked his head in a basin, tested the taps, then dried himself with a thick towel. Staring about, he found his clothes hanging from hooks on the s.h.i.+p's sheathing. Donning the clothes, he opened the door and strode out into an alleyway which led to the waist of the s.h.i.+p. He lifted his eyes to the mist as he emerged upon the damp planks and sniffed the morning air.

"Howdy!" exclaimed Cushner from a position at the rail. "About time you're risin'. We're going to yank the mudhook up as soon as Marr gives the order."

Stirling dropped his eyes and stepped to the mate's side. Staring over the rail, he raised his finger, sniffed for a second time, then declared: "She'll be clear by noon. This fog is light."

Cushner led the way forward to the ornate forecastle and Stirling glanced down through the open b.o.o.by hatch, to where a row of bunks lined each side of the s.h.i.+p. In these bunks seamen slept with their arms over their faces and their legs extended. A mola.s.ses barrel was lashed to the heel of the foremast, and on top of this barrel stood a large pan of white bread. The entire forecastle struck Stirling as far too clean and too large for a whaler's. It was more like an expensive yacht's.

"Them's picked men!" said Cushner. "Some has been picked from the gutter and some from the boarding houses. I guess I'll wake them. It's time for both watches on deck."

The second mate lifted a belaying pin from the pinrail and pounded upon the deck like a policeman pounds on the pavement. "Rise and s.h.i.+ne, lads!" he shouted, leaning over the companion's coaming. "We've got to pay Paddy Doyle for his boots. All out!"

Cushner listened and then repeated his tapping. "All hands on deck!" he called. "Step lively now, men! It's five bells an' th' tide is turning!"

Stirling heard protests from the sleepy crew; shoes flew across the forecastle, pans banged, growls and feeble protests rose as the two watches gathered together their clothes and attempted to dress in the dark.

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The Ice Pilot Part 3 summary

You're reading The Ice Pilot. This manga has been translated by Updating. Author(s): Henry Leverage. Already has 735 views.

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