The Boy With the U. S. Fisheries Part 12

"Has there been any of that lately?"

"Not recently. The last was in 1906, when seven men were killed. The two schooners, the _Tokaw Maru_ and the _Bosco Maru_, were seized and confiscated. Promptly! The men were taken to Valdez. They were convicted and sent to prison."

"Well, that's desperate enough," the boy said, "but, after all, there's something daring about it. It's the pelagic sealing that seems so mean to me."

"It may be daring enough," the agent admitted. "The way I feel about it, though, is that it seems worse to kill a cow fur seal than a human being. There are lots of people in the world. The human race isn't going to die out, but the small remnant of fur seals on the Pribilof Islands is absolutely the last chance left of saving the entire species from extinction. So," he concluded with a laugh, as they went into the village, "don't let your enthusiasm for a piece of daring tempt you to turn seal-pirate."

Colin laughed, as he nodded to his host, and went to see after one of his new pets, a blue fox pup which had been given him that morning by one of the natives.

Evening seemed to come early because of the dense fog, the damp mist which had been present all day settling down heavily. Colin was thoroughly tired, but not at all sleepy, and he wandered aimlessly through the village for a while after supper.

"I wonder if there's a storm coming?" he said to the agent. "I have a sort of feeling that something's going to happen."

"It may blow a little fresh," was the reply. "That's all. The barometer doesn't seem disturbed."

"I must be wrong then," said Colin, suppressing a yawn, "but I have a queer sort of excited feeling."

"Better take it out in sleep," was the advice given him. "We're all going to turn in soon. Even if you did get a nap this afternoon, you ought to be tired after last night."

The boy could see nothing to be gained by arguing the point, and there was nothing special to do, so he waited a few minutes and then went up to his room, though he had never felt less like sleeping. He got into bed, however, but tossed about uneasily for hours, the distant roaring of the seals on the rookery and other unaccustomed noises keeping him awake. And ever, through it all, Colin was conscious of this presentiment of some trouble on hand. Suddenly, this feeling rushed over him like a flood and, impelled by some force he could not resist, he sprang from bed and hurried to the window.

The fog had thinned considerably, but it was still so misty that he could only just see the edge of the bleak sh.o.r.e where the little waves rolled in idly, looking gray and greasy under the fog. He leaned his arms on the sill, but aside from the seal-roar, everything seemed peaceful and the lad was just about to turn away from the window in the feeling of miserable anger that comes from being tired but not able to sleep, when he saw a flash of light.

Startled, and with every nerve stimulated to alertness, he watched, and again he saw the light. Straining his eyes Colin could just distinguish the figure of a man with a gun on his shoulder and a lantern in his hand, making his way to the coast end of the village.

"Some one who has been making a night of it!" the boy muttered to himself with a short laugh, and got back into bed.

But the figure of the man with the gun and the lantern in his hand had impressed itself on his mind, and though he tried to dismiss the idea and go to sleep, every time he closed his eyes he seemed to see the man go walking silently through the village. Presently he sat bolt upright in bed.

"The native huts are all at the other end of the village!" he said half aloud, with a surprised suspiciousness. "Why was he going that way?"

The boy rose and went back to the open window. It seemed to him that there was more tumult from the rookery than when he had listened half an hour before, but it occurred to him that this was probably the result of the silence of the hour and his own restlessness. Then, not loudly, but distinctly, in spite of its being m.u.f.fled by the fog, the sound of a rifle-shot came to his ears.

That settled it for Colin. If there was anything going on in the way of sport he wanted a share in it, and as he was wide awake, he decided to follow up and see what was going on. He slipped into his clothes as quickly as possible and tiptoed his way down the rickety stairs. But before he had gone many steps an unaccustomed thought of prudence struck him, and he walked back to a house three or four doors from where he had been staying, the home, indeed, of the villager who had given him the pet fox, and in which Hank had taken up quarters. He knocked on the window and immediately Hank appeared.

"What is it?" he queried. "Oh, it's you, Colin. Why aren't you in bed?"

"I was," the boy answered, and in a few words he told how he had seen the native go by with a gun and a lantern and had heard the shot fired a few minutes ago.

"Sounds like smugglin'," the old whaler said, after a minute's thought.

"Well, there's no great harm in that. That is, I don't think so, though the gov'nment chaps might say different."

"Smuggling?" queried Colin; "poaching. Do you mean seal-poaching? Oh, come along, Hank, and let's find out."

"What's the use of huntin' trouble?" said the old man. "Go back to bed."

"Not much," retorted the boy; "if you don't want to come, I'll go, anyway."

"If you're goin' anyway," grumbled the old whaler, "I reckon it's no use my sayin' anythin' to stop you. But I s'pose," he added, and he was secretly as curious as the boy, "I'd better go along with you to see that you don't get into any more mischief than you have to."

"You're coming, then?" asked Colin impatiently.

"I'll be right out," the other answered, and he had hardly disappeared from the window when he appeared at the door. He slipped a revolver into his pocket and handed another to Colin.

"I've got a gun," the boy said.

"All right," responded Hank, "I'll pack this one along, too," and he slipped it into one of the pockets of his big reefer.

They walked in silence for a few minutes until they had pa.s.sed the end of the village, and then Hank put his hand on the boy's arm.

"You've got a right hunch," he said abruptly, in a low voice. "There's somethin' in the wind."

"What makes you think so?" asked Colin.

The other pointed vaguely to sea.

"There's a s.h.i.+p out there," he said.

Colin did his utmost to pierce the gloom, but the fog had settled down again, the night was dark, and the boy could scarcely see the waves breaking on the sh.o.r.e not twenty feet away.

"I can't see anything," he said. "Whereabouts?"

"I don't know just where," the old sailor replied, "but I know she's there. I feel it."

"Let's hurry!" said the boy.

"Better go slower," warned Hank, pulling him back gently; "we're not far from the rookery."

"I don't see why we should be so careful, and I don't see why we should whisper," Colin objected, whispering nevertheless; "the seals are making noise enough to drown a bra.s.s band."

"Listen!" said Hank.

The boy put his hand to his ear, trying to distinguish sounds in the continuous roar.

"Voices?" he queried with a puzzled look.

"I thought so," the whaler nodded. There was a pause, while both listened, then the gunner said:

"It isn't English and it doesn't sound like Aleut or Russian."

"j.a.panese?" queried the boy at a guess.

The man grasped the boy's shoulder with a grip that nearly dislocated it.

"j.a.panese raiders!" he said. "Can you run?"

"You bet," said Colin, growing excited; "I'm a crack runner."

"Get back to the agent's house as fast as you know how an' wake him up.