The lurking fear died out of Allardyce's eyes. "Well," he said, "I was cast away—me and an Indian and Stetson, sealing from the old St. Michael. 'Twas back there on the eastern reefs we came ashore, and when I got him out Stetson's head was crushed in. That left me and the Indian, and the Russians sent us west when the gun-boat came. I don't know how long they kept us yonder, but one night when they sent us down the coast on a schooner me and the Indian got away from her. The boat was a good one, and, for it was blowing fresh, we ran back north before the wind I don't know where, and lived with the natives ashore until the Indian got drowned in an ice crack while we starved through that winter. There's lots of things I don't seem to remember, but I got blown off in a skin boat at last, and when I'd lived most of a week on nothing a schooner fetched me here."
It was a very disjointed story, but the sealers could fill in the cold and hunger of those terrible wanderings which Allardyce, whose face spoke more plainly for him, left out. Brulée rendered it into French, and Jordan turned to the officer.
"Your people take away a white man's liberty and leave him to rot without a hearing?" he said.
The Russian made a little deprecatory gesture. "The Department is slow—or perhaps it is occupied, and he ran away too soon. One waits the instructions, and if the papers do not come—what would you? Sometimes a man is forgotten."
"Did you ever see this man before, Allardyce?" asked Jordan.
"No," said the sealer. "Not until he came here with the gun-boat a week ago."
Jordan nodded, and pointed to the dark-skinned man. "Have the folks here ill-treated you?"
"No," said Allardyce. "I had to work for them, and I was glad I had, but they never did no harm to me."
Jordan turned once more to the Russians. "I guess," he said grimly, "that was quite fortunate for all of you. Now, how long have you been working for them, Allardyce?"
"Since soon after the ice broke up. When that was I don't quite know."