"Slow!" said Stickine signing with his hand, and while the rumble of engines slackened a faint cry came out of the dimness.
Then the sealer turned to the officer, and his bronzed face was as unconcerned as ever, though his hands seemed to tremble a little. The Commander was standing very rigid, but there were beads of moisture on his forehead.
"We've left your boat astern," he said.
"Well," said Stickine gravely, "we're not going to want her. I guess I've put this contract through, and you can whistle for the schooner."
Then the tension suddenly slackened, and there was a half-audible murmur from the men below when the scream of the whistle was flung into the fog. It screamed twice before the thin tinkle of a bell rose up in answer.
"That will be your schooner. She's not far away," said the Commander.
Five minutes later the steamer stopped her engines, and while the boat crept up again the Champlain, rolling under her jibs and trysail, grew out of the haze. Stickine touched Appleby's shoulder, and turning towards the Commander held out his hand.
"It's about time we were going now. A deal's a deal, and I've kept my part of it," he said.
There was a little grim smile in the Commander's eyes, but he shook hands gravely with the sealer. "And I'll do mine," he said to Stickine as he went down the ladder. "Still, you can tell your skipper that if I ever find his schooner inside our limits again, I'll have much pleasure in sinking her."
Stickine made no answer, but he grinned.