[CHAPTER XV—OUT OF THE PORTHOLE]
Pressing the glove within the pocket of his pea-jacket, Stirling strode to the waist of the Pole Star. From this position he glanced upward at the quarter-deck, which was deserted.
The soft aroma of the perfume struck to his nostrils and he searched his brain for the events which led up to the dainty offering tossed down to him.
Marr and Whitehouse knew the secret of the after cabin of the whaler. They never had given any sign that another shared the meals and splendid staterooms with them. This other had been brought upon the voyage against her will—Stirling remembered the sob, and the lone figure upon the poop when they had tied to the North pack. He pieced together the few observations he had made, and they all led to one conclusion: a dainty woman, who closely resembled the skipper in height and weight, was aboard the Pole Star. She had made the first advance to him. Others might follow.
He rounded the shadow of the galley house and stared at the frowning headland of Indian Point, then turned and glanced out over the waters of the Bering Strait. The ice had gone south from around the base of the headlands. The road to the Arctic was open.
He heard then, above the snoring of the natives who were sleeping upon the foreward deck, the low boom of a distant cannon. It was repeated. A ship of some kind was signalling to leeward.
Searching the sea, Stirling strained his eyes without discovering sign of smoke or sail. The night was starlit and strangely warm. The glimmering waters of the Bering to the southward hung like a burnished mirror. An early sun was starting to swing its upward arc, and a pink flush made visible the far-off land of Alaska.
Again the sound of cannon came to Stirling. It stirred the natives and brought the lone anchor watch around in his position. He stared at Stirling.
"A ship to leeward," said the Ice Pilot. "Keep your eyes peeled. She's a long ways off."
The seaman went to the rail and leaned over it. He was in that position when Stirling opened the door of his cabin and stepped inside. He switched on the light, removed the glove from his pocket, and touched it to his wide nostrils. He sensed the perfume with throbbing heart. Feeling the rush of blood to his face, he turned with a guilty start and placed the glove within an inlaid sextant box. The closing of the lid sealed his purpose to stand by the woman who was aft.