“She is here,” said Barwell Dawson, after making inquiries. “I will have you taken to her.”
Chet found Tom Fetjen, a Danish-American, tall and powerful, with a shrewd but kindly face. He listened to the boy’s story with interest, and then shrugged his big shoulders.
“I no can tell you mooch ’bout dat whaler, Betsey Andrews,” he said, slowly. “I not know for truf what happen to him. But I hear som’t’ing las’ year. Two Esquimaux men come to me an’ da say dat de whaleboat he got stuck by de ice far up dare.” And Tom Fetjen waved his hand northward.
“Stuck in the ice?” queried Chet.
“Dat is what de Esquimaux men say. Da climb up de ice mountain an’ see him ship stuck fast, but go—what you say him?—float, yes, float up dat way,” and again the trader pointed northward.
“Do you mean that the Betsey Andrews got stuck in some floating ice, and was carried northward?” asked Chet.
“Yes, dat is eet. Nobody hear more of de whaleboat.”
“Where did you hear this?”
“Hear him at Etah, las’ summer.”
“How did the Esquimaux know it was the Betsey Andrews?” asked Andy.