THE FIRST SEAL-HUNT
For an hour or more Phil Ryder sat in the stern of the boat,
alternately bailing, shouting, and casting hopeful glances at the
schooner’s rail every few moments in the full expectation of seeing
some one who would relieve him from his unpleasant position. During
this time he was painfully conscious of a most vigorous appetite, that
was whetted by occasional tantalizing whiffs that came floating back
to him from the galley. At length he began to believe that by some
strange oversight he must have been forgotten, and that if anything
was done to relieve the situation he must do it himself. He thought
that if he could only haul his boat up close under the stern of the
schooner he might be able to climb up the rope, and so gain her deck.
As no other plan offered, he proceeded to put this one into execution,
and stepping forward into the bow of the boat, without regard to the
increase of water that this movement caused to flow in through the
plug-hole, he seized the rope and began to pull with all his might. The
instant the stern was raised and the bow lowered by this transfer of
weight the boat sheered wildly to one side. Then she was brought back
with a sudden jerk that very nearly capsized her, and immediately made
a furious rush in the opposite direction, until her bow was so nearly
dragged under that to save himself and restore the former state of
affairs Phil was compelled once more to spring aft. His sole plan for
escape had resulted in dismal failure, and so much water had entered
the boat during the experiment that to keep her from swamping he had
need to bail furiously for another hour. At the end of that time he had
once more got the better of the exasperating leak, so that he could
rest for a few minutes. Then he must fall to bailing again. So in
resting and bailing by turns the long afternoon hours were slowly worn
away. The poor lad was faint from hunger, cold, wet, and furious at the
supposed carelessness that had left him in such an unpleasant, not to
say dangerous, position.
It was not until nearly sunset that the welcome sound of a voice came
to his ears. Looking up, he saw Ebenezer’s black face peeping over the
rail, and heard him announce, “Suppah, sah!”
“Haul in on the painter, you grinning idiot!” shouted Phil, whereupon
the negro placed his hand to his ear and called back: “Yes, sah.
Suppah!”
“Oh, what an old stupid!” groaned Phil, sinking back despairingly in
the stern of the boat. “I may stay here until I starve or drown for all
the help he’ll give me.”
Just then came another shout, and a new hope sprang into the breast
of the despairing lad as he saw the lank but powerful frame of Jalap
Coombs rising above the rail, and felt that his boat was being drawn
towards the schooner. When it was at length pulled up as close as
possible the mate shouted:
“Now, lad, make a climb for it hand over hand, and I’ll stand by to
give ye a h’ist when ye get within reach.”
A minute later Phil stood safe and sound on the _Seamew’s_ deck, but so
angry that he broke out at once with:
“That’s as mean a piece of business as I ever heard of, and if I can
find out who is responsible for it, I’ll pay him back, see if I don’t!
It’s an outrage! and――”
“Steady, lad! Steady!” interrupted Jalap Coombs. “Your trouble’s all
over now, and there ain’t no use kicking it into life again. As my
friend old Kite Roberson uster say――”
“Oh, hang Kite Robinson!” cried Phil.
“So, now! So! What did poor old Kite ever do to you that ye should
want to hang him? ’Tain’t right to speak so onrespectful agin them as
is older than you be, and ’twon’t do no good nuther. As my old friend
uster offen say, ‘Ef ye kick a trouble, it’ll kick back, but there
ain’t no trouble in the world kin stand up agin a good broad grin.’ So
jest ye give a grin ’stead of a kick, and ye’ll feel all right.”
Phil could not help laughing at the very homeliness of this advice, and
with that laugh his recent experience did really begin to look as much
like a joke――though a rather serious one, to be sure――as an outrage.
In another moment he was following Jalap Coombs into the cabin, where
Captain Duff and the two other hunters were already seated at supper.
How warm and bright and cosey the cabin did seem! Phil wondered how
he could have thought it dingy and stuffy. How good it was to see a
bountifully provided table once more, and people! He even felt an
almost friendly feeling towards the captain, whose broad red face
loomed above one end of the table.
“Hello, Ryder!” roared that individual. “Too bad ye was left out in
that boat so long, but fact is I’ve been turned in all the afternoon,
and I neglected to mention it to Mr. Coombs when he went on watch. The
wust of it to me would have been the missing of my dinner; but I don’t
suppose you minded that, seeing as ye ain’t pertickerler ’bout eating
noway.”
“The worst of it was that as a plug was out of the boat, I had to bail
nearly all the time to keep her from swamping,” replied Phil.
“Sho, now! That so? Waal, it give ye something to do, and kep’ ye from
idleness, which some folks finds mighty hard to stand. I don’t mind it
much myself, but then we ain’t all made alike.”
Phil was too busy eating to make any reply to this, and at the same
time he was wondering if a new cook had been found to take Ebenezer’s
place. Certainly nothing he had previously eaten on board the _Seamew_
had tasted half so good as that supper.
It was a noticeable fact that from that time on our young hunter seemed
to enjoy his meals as much as any of those who sat at the cabin table.
It was also observed that Captain Duff every now and then broke into a
hoarse chuckle at meal-times without any apparent cause.
Early the next morning, several seals having been seen from the
schooner’s deck, the three boats were cleared away and sent forth in
pursuit of the shy but coveted game. In each boat were a hunter, a
boat-puller, and a steersman; each was provided with a sail, oars, and
a boat compass, and in each were stowed a breaker of fresh water and a
bag of sea-biscuit. The hunter sat or stood in the bows forward of the
mast, where he could have an unobstructed view ahead and on both sides.
He was provided with both a rifle and a shot-gun, one or the other of
which was always in his hands ready for instant use. He also carried a
plentiful supply of cartridges.
The boat-puller sat amidship, and rowed or trimmed sail as occasion
might demand; while the steersman, occupying the stern, not only
steered the boat, but kept careful note of the courses taken by means
of his compass, and of weather indications. He of course is always
an experienced sailor. All three were warmly clad, and each had an
oil-skin suit ready at hand. A long-handled gaff or sharp hook of steel
lay along the thwarts, where it could be readily reached by any one of
the three.
When the boats left the schooner they separated until about half a
mile apart, and then ran down the wind, all steering exactly the same
course. They were followed by the _Seamew_, under shortened sail, and
steering the same course as they. Thus, though they might lose sight
of her through distance, darkness, or fog, they were pretty certain to
find her again, though it often happens that seal-hunting boats are
lost, sometimes to be picked up after days of anxious drifting, and not
infrequently never to be seen or heard of more.
Serge was ordered to go as boat-puller in the craft of which Phil was
the hunter, much to the satisfaction of both lads. As they were the
least experienced of the three crews, they were given the schooner’s
best sailor-man for boat-steerer, no other than Jalap Coombs himself.
Phil felt rather nervous as he found himself actually embarked on the
career of a seal-hunter, and realized how largely the success of the
cruise depended on his individual efforts. To be sure, he had, by his
own carelessness, cut himself off from sharing any of its profits,
but he felt that he had a reputation at stake. So, like all young
sportsmen, he was extremely anxious to make as good a “bag” as either
of the other hunters who were on the same quest as himself. Thus he was
determined to do his very best, if only to show Ike Croly and Oro Dunn
that there were other people in the world who could shoot as well as,
if not a little better than, they.
This first hunting day was a gray one, with occasional flurries of
rain, but fortunately without fog――a rare circumstance in those
latitudes. For an hour or more the occupants of the mate’s boat held
their course without catching sight of the coveted game, though the
eyes of all three searched the dull surface of the waters incessantly.
They heard several faint shots from the direction taken by the other
boats, and these only made them the more anxious to discover game of
their own. Suddenly a sharp whisper of “There’s one!” from the stern of
the boat caused both lads to look around.
[Illustration: “THE EYES OF ALL THREE SEARCHED THE WATERS INCESSANTLY”]
“Where?” cried Phil, eagerly, not realizing in his excitement that he
was speaking aloud.
“Gone,” answered the mate, dryly, but in a tone of great vexation,
“to see who ye was hollering at.” With this he pointed to the right,
where the boys saw, already out of range, a dark object fleeing with
incredible swiftness and a series of curious boundings, by which its
body was thrown clear of the water by each impulse.
“Oh!” exclaimed Phil. “That’s too bad! What an idiot I was!”
“Never mind, son,” replied Jalap Coombs, consolingly. “Better luck next
time; but mind and don’t speak out loud again till your seal’s in the
boat.”
The next was discovered by Phil himself, and, holding up his hand
warningly, he pointed to it. It lay on the surface asleep, and ere
its keen sense of smell, which in a seal is active even in slumber,
warned it of the presence of its enemies, they were within range. As it
finally lifted its startled head a sharp report rang out, and it was
dead.
“Quick, Serge!” shouted the mate. “Row to it afore it sinks, as it
surely will unless it had just drawn in a breath.” The animal had sunk
when they reached the spot, but so short a distance that the body could
still be reached by the gaff and drawn into the boat. Phil’s eyes
sparkled as he gloated over this his first seal, and while Serge was
skinning it he eagerly searched for another.
The next one, discovered an hour later, took the alarm before they
got within shot-gun range, and bounded away. “He’s a lucky beggar!”
said Jalap Coombs, in a disgusted tone; but Phil, dropping the useless
shot-gun and snatching up his rifle, took a quick aim and fired.
“The very prettiest wing shot that ever I see!” cried the exulting
mate, as three minutes later they hauled the dead seal into the boat.
“Plumb through the head, too!”
So with varying fortunes the day wore on until it was time to return to
the schooner, unless they wished to remain out all night. In the boat
were five handsome skins and one seal, just killed, that still retained
its glossy coat. Now their sole anxiety was to know whether either of
the other boats had beaten them or not. The mate thought they were
“high line” for that day, but Phil was doubtful.