The Fur-Seal's Tooth: A Story of Alaskan Adventure

by Kirk Munroe

When the steamer Norsk left the harbor of Oonalaska, on the very day that Mr. John Ryder took lunch with her captain, she carried with her the fur-seal’s tooth. Japonski, the table-boy, had listened with avaricious ears to the story of its value. He hoped soon to go to Sitka himself, for he had a brother there, employed as wardroom boy on an American man-of-war. How well it would be to have one thousand of those big American dollars to show to him and to spend! Japonski’s brother had laughed when he sailed on the Norsk, and told him that not many yen could be picked up in the merchant-service. So it had proved; but here was a chance. A tooth would be a very little thing, and so easy to hide. The white man said, “He who stole it would have no good-fortune”; but he must have said that to make him, Japonski, afraid; but a Hakodate man was not afraid. He would prove it.

So Japonski slipped the fur-seal’s tooth up his sleeve, even while, with innocent face, he handed the overcoat to Mr. Ryder. That night, in the privacy of his own cubby-hole, just off the pantry, he examined his prize, and gloated over it. The white man had gone without suspecting him, and the ship was already far on her way. Whatever this thing was worth, it was his, and no one would ever know how he obtained it. He smiled scornfully at the thought of its bringing him any misfortune; but, as he looked at it closely, the smile faded from his face.

That bit of ivory had never been carved by Indian hands, nor by Aleuts, nor Eskimo. Nowhere in the world could such dainty work be done, save in his own country, and who would thus depict the frowning face of Buddha, terror of evil-doers, except a devout native of Japan. That was one emblem borne by the ivory tooth. On the opposite side was a fish. What could it be but the lucky fish of Queen Jung-gu, the conqueror of Corea?

Alas, that he had dared steal a curio of such omen as this; but he could not give it back. He dared not give it to any except him from whom he had stolen it. So he hid it away; but he thought of it all the time, and from that day all things seemed to go wrong with him. Never had he broken so many dishes, never spoiled so much food, never so incurred the captain’s wrath. Still he clung to the tooth, and would not part with it. The white man had said it was worth one thousand silver dollars; that would be fifteen hundred silver yen, and on that sum he could live like a prince for many years in his own country.

At the Pribyloffs the Norsk took on board one Nikrik, an Aleut, who had been for some years employed at St. Michaels, to act as a pilot through the shoals of Norton’s Sound. Although there was a strong general resemblance between this man and the cabin-boy, each of them regarded the other as belonging to an inferior race. As, however, they were both looked down on by the whites, they were almost forced into each other’s society, and thus it came about that, very early in their acquaintance, Japonski displayed his treasure to Nikrik, and asked him what he thought of it.

Now the Aleut was too great a traveller not to have heard of the fur-seal’s tooth, for it was known—at least, by fame—to all Northern Alaska, and the moment he saw it he was determined to possess it. So he told Japonski tales of its strange power for evil over all but those native to Alaska, and tried to frighten him into giving it up. But Japonski only smiled blandly and said, “Alle same I keep him.”

Still, he was made uneasy by these tales, and from that moment misfortunes seemed to crowd upon him more thickly than ever. At length he so enraged Captain Kuhn by his carelessness that that individual turned purple in the face, became speechless, and was threatened with an apoplectic fit. Japonski had seen him thus before, and knew just what to do. There was a certain medicine that must be given quickly. He prepared it, and forced a spoonful down the captain’s throat. To his horror the captain turned white and rigid, and, to all appearances, died, then and there.

The terrified cabin-boy rushed out for aid, and the very first person he came across was the chief engineer, who was regulating a delicate bit of machinery. The engineer was so startled by Japonski’s sudden appearance that he dropped a tool into the machinery, something snapped, and, a moment later, the engines were stopped for repairs. Then Japonski ran and hid himself in his cubby-hole, where Nikrik, finding him some time later, said that if the captain died and the ship was lost it would all be owing to the fur-seal’s tooth, which he must give up at once in order to avoid further disaster.

Upon this, Japonski conceived such a horror of the bit of ivory, that he rushed frantically on deck and flung it with all his might into the sea. Almost at the same instant the engines were again started, and, when he went below, the first news he heard was that the captain was getting better. So he was glad of what he had done, though it had cost him a fortune in silver yen.

Early the next morning, when Nikrik went on deck before any one else except the watch, he spied the bidarkie in which our lads had come, and examined it closely to see where it had been made, and by whom. As he turned it over, something rattled inside of its parchment skin. The Aleut reached in to feel for the cause of this sound, and, when he withdrew his hand, clutching the fur-seal’s tooth that he had supposed was lost forever, his oily face was overspread with a broad grin of gratified surprise. He knew, of course, that Japonski had flung it overboard, and now he also knew that, by some miracle which he attributed to the magic power of the tooth itself, it had fallen into the drifting bidarkie. Nikrik had recognized the lads when they were brought on board the night before; but, with the usual reticence of his race, he had not yet mentioned this fact. Now he was glad of it, because it was possible that one of them might claim the treasure he had just stolen; for to an Aleut it is as much of a theft to take a thing from a bidarkie as from its owner. So Nikrik’s guilty conscience caused him to avoid Phil and Serge as much as possible during the short time that they remained on the same ship.