“Very well; let them come aboard, and I’ll hear what they have to say.”
In vain did the quartermaster strive to direct the canoe to the port gangway. The natives did not seem to understand, and insisted on rounding up under the starboard quarter, reserved for officers and distinguished guests. One of them sprang out the moment its bow touched the side steps, clambered aboard, pushed aside the wrathful quartermaster, and started for the captain’s door with the sailor in hot pursuit.
“Hold on, you blooming young savage! Ye can’t go in there,” he shouted, but to heedless ears.
As Phil gained the door it was opened by the commander himself, who was about to come out for a look at the natives.
“How are you, Captain Matthews?” shouted the fur-clad intruder into the sacred privacy of the cabin, at the same time raising a hand in salute. “It is awfully good of you, sir, to come for us. I only hope you didn’t bother to wait very long at the Pribyloffs.”
“Eh? What? Who are you, sir? What does this mean? Phil Ryder! You young villain! You scamp! Bless my soul, but this is the most wonderful thing I ever heard of!” cried the astonished commander, staggering back into the cabin, and pulling Phil after him. “May, daughter, look here!”
At that moment there came a yelping rush, and with a chorus of excited barkings Musky, Luvtuk, and big Amook dashed pell-mell into the cabin. After them came Serge, Jalap Coombs, and the horrified quartermaster, all striving in vain to capture and restrain the riotous dogs. As if any one could prevent them from following and sharing the joy of the young master who had fed them night after night for months by lonely camp-fires of the Yukon Valley!
So they flung themselves into the cabin, and tore round and round, amid such a babel of shouts, laughter, barkings, and crash of overturned furniture as was never before heard in that orderly apartment.
Finally the terrible dogs were captured, one by one, and led away. May Matthews emerged from a safe retreat, where, convulsed with laughter, she had witnessed the whole uproarious proceeding. Her father, still ejaculating “Bless my soul!” at intervals, gradually recovered sufficient composure to recognize and welcome Serge and “Ipecac” Coombs, as he persisted in calling poor Jalap. The upset chairs were placed to rights, and all hands began to ask questions with such rapidity that no one had time to pause for answers.
From the confusion Captain Matthews finally evolved an understanding that the boys were still desirous of reaching Sitka, whereupon he remarked: