The Pole Star was the first ship of the season, and the natives welcomed it with a great noise. Chiefs were hastily paddled out, and mounted the quarter-deck to gather about Marr and Whitehouse. Stirling attended to the throng which swarmed up the anchor chain and forepeak. Native girls, old women, men and children brought trade stuff of varied character—salmon, walrus tusks, small whalebone, carved idols, feather coats, skin caps, and hoods.
A large umiak appeared from the ice of the strait, and in its bow stood a chief, who called Stirling's name. The Ice Pilot reach over the rail and grasped the hand of the leader of the Diomede Islanders. They had brought the best of Mazeka boots, which are prized by whalers and the hunters of the North. These boots were sealskin moccasins, capped to full length with deerskin, watertight and warm.
"Plenty bone ashore," said the native chief, pointing at the igloos of Indian Point. "Plenty whales this season. Me catchum two."
Stirling smiled at the broad face of the Eskimo, then shook his head. "Plenty ships come soon," he said. "You sell to old Peterson. You remember, he pay big trade stuff. Don't take whisky."
The chief blinked shrewdly, dug deep within his fur parka, and brought forth a pipe, which he filled with a pinch of cut plug. Stirling offered a match, and the chief puffed and stared about the ship.
"New!" he said with brevity. "Fine ship. You own?"
Stirling shook his head and pointed toward the quarter-deck, where Marr was in conference with the Indian Point chiefs.
"He buy whalebone?" asked the Diomede Islander.
"I don't think so. You try old Peterson. Maybe he give you plenty."
"I want two whaleboats this year," said the shrewd native. "I want ten guns and whale lines. Next year I catch plenty whales."