Five of the crew were below in the hold from whence a light struck upward and illuminated the standing rigging and spars of the ship. A voice called from the quarter-deck. It was Whitehouse who stood there, Marr having gone ashore with the raiders.
Stirling watched his chance and stood erect. There seemed no way to fail. The ship swung with gentle tugging in the bight of a whale line that had been lashed to a small anchor. The double line showed distinctly from the position where he stood. He had but to rush forward, lean over, sever the line, and get back to the cabin before Whitehouse discovered that the ship was adrift.
The Ice Pilot turned and stared along the deck to where the mate's figure moved grotesquely behind the canvas rail. Two or three seamen had hurried aft to meet the outcoming boat, and they mounted the poop ladder on the weather side and joined Whitehouse.
Stirling reached the heel of the foremast after cautiously rounding the fore hatch. His eyes hardened as he lifted his hand, poised it before him, and took one step toward the capstan and the starboard-anchor davit to which the whale line had been fastened.
Then like a scarlet snake with myriad scales, there rose from the island a rocket which reached to the higher skies, curved, and burst into a star shower of green and blue lights. The flare from this rocket brought out the rookeries and the whaleboats; the dead, skinned seals; the crouched figures of the crew ashore. It bathed the entire ocean with sinister light; it struck a spike of terror into the raiders' hearts.
They threw down skinning knives and bludgeons. They charged down across the red sands and thrust out the boats, glancing back with blanched faces as they frantically rowed toward the ship.
Stirling heard Whitehouse roll out a string of oaths which were as lurid as the rocket's warning glare. A stout shout sounded from Marr, who was in the leading whaleboat. Fire doors were opened below deck, scoops grated across the stokehold plates, the first engineer climbed swiftly to the companion and sprang out on deck.
The seal raiders were discovered; the guards had been warned on the other islands of the group. A wireless message was even then flashing across the waters of the Bering Sea. The Bear, or some other ship, would be down upon them.
Stirling realized exactly what had happened, and his brain worked swiftly. There was yet time to cut the anchor lines, but this would be done by the returning crew. In no other way could they sheer the ship from the shore and make to open sea.
He stepped back, brushed against a seaman who had risen from the forehatch, and rounded the galley house before the startled sailor could detect who had pressed against him.