Marr leaned over the chart and asked softly: "How is the whaling close to the Siberian shore? I've heard of catches in the Gulf of Anadir. I think it would be wise that we go there as soon as the ice permits."
Stirling glanced keenly at the little skipper, for he sensed a deeper motive in the question. The Gulf of Anadir was close indeed to Russia. It was a favourite sealing ground; few whales were to be found there. The season was generally too late to capture any bowheads on account of the ice barrier which held back the ships.
"I don't recommend it," he said, simply. "I've been there twice. First time was in the Beluga. We didn't fasten to anything that year. The second time was in the old Norwhale—Captain Gully commanding. We fastened to one head close by the Siberian shore. That was all. It's barren waters unless you can put the ship in early."
"Can't you do that?"
"Not always; sometimes. I've seen the pack ice so thick at the Pribilofs, or just north of St. Paul Island, that it was late in July when we broke through and reached Bering Strait. We got nothing but some trade stuff from the natives that season. It was too late to find bowheads; they'd taken the Northeast Passage and gone through to Baffin Bay."
"Just the same," said Marr, "I'd like to try for the Gulf of Anadir. Ever hear of Disko Island?"
Stirling narrowed his eyes. Disko Island was the very heart of the richest sealing ground in all the world—outside of the Pribilofs. It belonged to Russia, and around it were gunboats of England, Japan, and the United States.
"I know it well," he said, dryly. "There's plenty of seals there, but darn few bowheads!"
Marr glanced at Whitehouse, then his eyes travelled the circle and rested upon the chart. He followed Stirling's pointing finger.
"It's a blym shame!" blurted out the English mate. "It's an outrage that them Russians got all them nice little pelts. What's the 'arm in lookin' the island over? Who's going to bother now? Who's running Russia, anyway?"