"I am a Deputy Seal Commissioner," said the seaman.
[CHAPTER XVII—INTO FORBIDDEN WATERS]
The long Northern day died at last as the Pole Star drove south and west through the ice-flecked waters of the Bering Sea.
Night shaded overhead and the wind sank to a following breeze which flapped the sails on the polished spars. Steam was got up in the boilers, the screw thrashed, and the ship plunged on—her sharp stem cutting through the drift ice like a knife going through thin paper.
Into the upward swing of the Arctic sun the whaler steered. Fog drifted upon them, and when it lifted there was exposed a wide waste of sullen waters upon the surface of which seal and walrus sported. Once a killer whale attracted attention. Some of the green crew called "A blow!"
Marr knew better than this. He urged the ship on as if it were carrying the mail for Southern waters. He stood the watch with Whitehouse, and both seamen had received Eagan's report that Stirling was resting easily and was making no trouble.
They consulted as to the best course to pursue in regard to Stirling. Marr was for locking him securely in the chain-locker—this was a tiny space forward the forecastle. Whitehouse, who had taken a liking to Stirling, admiring his prowess with the ice and the conditions met in the Bering, suggested that Eagan should be left in charge of the captive and held responsible. Marr agreed, neither man suspecting that the sailor had any motive in staying near Stirling. Their first suspicion had been forgotten. Eagan had played a difficult part and won his point.
It was on the third day that the Pole Star entered, as dusk crept across the sky, the zone of danger where no ships were allowed at that season of the year, the strictest patrolled patch of water in the world. Seals of the fur-skin variety, which are so valuable and scarce, sported about.
Marr drove on with all lights shaded and a canvas cone capping the Pole Star's funnel and steam pipe. Orders had been given for each man to stand at position. Guns had been laid in the whaleboats, and great oak capstan bars took the place of the whaling gear.
An air of expectancy filled each sailor's breast; the die was cast, and they were close to the great game. Whaling was for old men and weaklings. Stories had been told in the forecastle and steerage concerning the sudden profits of a seal raid. MacLane was cited as an instance of desperate daring and tremendous enterprise, MacLane who had raided both the Copper Group and the Pribilofs in one season. He had brought his schooner into Seattle with her deck planks bulging from the salted skins beneath.