This mysterious proceeding having been carried out to Captain Duff’s satisfaction, and only a scanty cargo of salted cod-fish left in his vessel’s hold, her anchor was again lifted, and she was headed northward into the fog-hidden regions of Bering Sea. In these forbidden waters any vessel was liable at any time to be overhauled by some American revenue-cutter or British man-of-war, and subjected to an examination. If seal-skins were found on board she was seized and sent to some distant port, from which there was no chance of escape, and where her crew were detained as prisoners until such time as their case might be tried before the proper authorities.
The strange proceeding of the Seamew’s master in discharging his cargo on a desolate island, carefully concealing it there, and then venturing into the forbidden waters, drew forth many eager and curious comments from his crew, all of whom wondered what the next act on the programme would be. None, however, dared question the schooner’s autocrat, for, as though well aware of their desire to do so, he became more of a bully than ever, and so roared and bellowed and snarled at every one and everything as to make all hands anxious to keep as far from him as possible.
None discussed the situation more earnestly than did Phil and Serge whenever they could get together beyond the captain’s range of observation, for they were well aware that every mile of progress in this new direction found them just so much farther away from Sitka, as well as from the track of vessels bound for that port.
“I tell you what it is, old man,” Phil remarked, on one of these occasions, “while I don’t know where we are bound or when we will get there, it seems to me that shipping on board this schooner was a mighty poor move on my part. I might have known that I would never get to Sitka this way, if I had only stopped to think. But I didn’t, and I don’t suppose I ever shall until it is too late for thinking to do any good.”
“What worries me most,” responded Serge, “is that it was I who proposed the plan.”
“Now don’t you fret about that. You only did what you thought was for the best, and, after all, I don’t know but it is just as well that I came on this cruise. I should have been certain to get into some other scrape equally bad, if not worse, if I hadn’t. Why, when I recall that one of the only two nights I ever spent in Victoria was passed in a police-station, I tremble to think what might have happened if I had been left there for two whole weeks. I should really be enjoying this trip, too, if it wasn’t for thinking of my poor father. He surely must be in a state of mind by this time. At any rate, I am seeing something of Alaska, or rather of its fogs and waters, and that is what I came out West for, you know.”
“Yes,” said Serge, anxious to encourage this brighter view of the situation, “and you are making a splendid reputation for yourself as a seal-hunter. Why, after this trip, if you want it, you can get a job any time at the very highest rates going. I tell you what! If I could only shoot as you can, I should feel fixed for life.”
“But I sha’n’t ever want any such job again,” replied Phil. “To tell the truth, I am getting awfully sick of this killing business. It was exciting at first, but the keeping it up day after day is horrid. One might as well turn butcher at once, and be done with it.”
“Oh!” said Serge, with a puzzled air, as though this sentiment were beyond his comprehension. “If you look at it that way—”