[CHAPTER XXXIII]
IN HOT PURSUIT
Captain Matthews had obtained the name of the suspicious schooner from the master of the Norsk. It was Philomel, and he at once recognized it as that of a well-known craft belonging to a sea-otter trader, which he had frequently seen plying her honest vocation among the islands of the Aleutian chain. “That is a new dodge and a good one,” he muttered. “The rascals knew the risk of bringing a strange vessel into the sea, and so have chartered a well-known craft, thinking that she can go where she pleases without exciting suspicion. I am on to their game, though, and they must be a good deal smarter than I think they are if we don’t have them alongside before many days are past.”
The Phoca first ran down to Oonalaska and dropped anchor in Captain’s Harbor on the second day after leaving St. Paul. Here her commander learned, without going ashore, that the Philomel had been chartered by one Jalap Coombs, and had cleared five days before for a general trading voyage to Oonimak Island and other Bering Sea points lying to the eastward.
“Ho! ho! my veteran poacher with the medicinal name! It is you, is it? and up to your old tricks!” said Captain Matthews to himself, as he ordered his vessel to be got under way for the eastward.
Late that same afternoon the schooner Philomel was reported at anchor off the northeast point of Oonimak, and close in shore.
“Very good, sir,” said the captain to his first lieutenant, who made this report; “we will anchor for the night a cable’s length outside of her, and you will at once send an officer on board to make a careful examination of her cargo. If he finds anything suspicious about her—any guns, extra boats, or other evidences of a sealing outfit—let him bring her skipper back with him.”
To the surprise of those on board the cutter, she had barely dropped anchor before a small boat containing two men was seen to put off from the schooner and come towards her. Captain Matthews, who was curious to see what sort of a man he had to deal with, stepped on deck in time to receive a genuine surprise. Instead of the old sea-dog whom he expected, he beheld a fine-looking man of middle age, wearing an iron-gray mustache, and clad in the soft hat, corduroy suit, knee-breeches, worsted stockings, and heavy walking shoes of a gentleman tourist or sportsman. Lifting his hat as he stepped on deck and approached the captain, the stranger asked: