"Why don't we land?" asked Colin, as he noticed that the boat was running parallel with the shore instead of heading directly for it.
"Land on a seal-rookery?" said Hank. "Haven't you had trouble enough with whales so far?"
"Would seals attack a boat?" asked Colin in surprise.
"No, you couldn't make 'em," was the instant reply, "but I never heard of a boat landin' at a rookery. The row would begin when you got ashore."
Gradually the boat drew closer to the land, as close, indeed, as was possible along the rocky shore, and then the land receded, forming a shallow bay flanked by two low hills on one side and one sharper hill on the other. The captain rolled up his chart and headed straight for the shore.
"St. Paul, I reckon," said Hank, as the out
lines of the land showed clearly, "but I don't jus' seem to remember it."
"Yes, that's St. Paul," the captain agreed. "It has changed since your time, Hank. There has been a lot of building since the government took hold."
"Why, it looks quite civilized!" exclaimed Colin in surprise, as he saw the well-built, comfortable frame houses and a stone church-spire which stood out boldly from the hill above the wharf.
"When I first saw St. Paul," said the old whaler, "it looked just about the way it was when the Russians left it—huts and shacks o' the worst kind an' the natives were kep' just about half starved."