The pilot’s thoughts dwelt so constantly on his newly-acquired treasure that, in his absent-mindedness, he ran the Norsk ashore, when close to Fort St. Michaels, in one of the channels with which he was most familiar. This so enraged the mate that he ordered him from the bridge, and declared he should have no pay. That very evening, on shore, Nikrik engaged in a gambling game with some Yukon Indians, who had come to the fort to trade. In this, luck ran so strongly against him, that, before morning, he had staked and lost everything of value he possessed, including the fur-seal’s tooth. This fell to the lot of a young Indian, who, ignorant of its true value, traded it to a recently-arrived clerk of the post for a pound of tobacco. With an air of great satisfaction the clerk added this new charm to some others that dangled from his massive (plated) watch-chain. There it attracted curiosity, envy, and whispered remarks from all the natives whose eyes happened to light upon it.
Phil and Serge did not leave the bunks in which their friendly rescuers had placed them for a day and a night after going on board the Norsk, during which time they slept almost continuously. When they did appear on deck, they were so thoroughly refreshed that no trace remained of their recent terrible adventure, that now seemed to them only like some dreadful nightmare. Until now they had not known nor cared whither they were being carried; but the moment they stepped on deck, and while they were being warmly greeted by Gerald Hamer, their eyes turned wonderingly to a low coast visible on the right. As soon as they found a chance they inquired eagerly what land it was, and on being told that it was the southern coast of Norton Sound, while the Alaska Company’s trading-post of Fort St. Michaels was directly ahead, they gazed at each other in speechless dismay.
“Is that where you were bound for when you got lost?” asked Mr. Hamer, politely; for he had not yet learned the story of their wanderings.
“No,” answered Phil, with a melancholy smile; “we were bound for Sitka.”
“Sitka!” exclaimed Gerald Hamer. “Then you have come from the north, I suppose?”
“No, we have come from Victoria, which, I believe, is somewhat south of this.”
“Well, I should say it was! About three thousand miles! And, as Sitka is all of twenty-one hundred miles from here, I wish you would tell me how you have managed to miss it so completely, and drift up into this latitude?”
As Nikrik ran the ship aground on a mud-flat just then, there was plenty of time, while waiting for the tide to float her off, for the lads to relate the story of their wanderings and adventures. The fur-trader listened to it with profound interest, and, when it was concluded, he said:
“If that doesn’t beat all the roundabout travelling and hard luck that ever I heard of! I should think you would be sick of the sea, and willing to try dry land for a while by this time.”
“So we are,” answered Serge; “but, as the railroad isn’t even laid out yet, I suppose we shall have to go back on this ship—at least, as far as Oonalaska.”