CRUEL KILLING OF MOTHER-SEALS
It was because Captain Duff wanted more seal-skins, and because the
seals insisted in resorting to Bering Sea, that he had taken the
_Seamew_ into those waters. He knew that the Pribyloff seals, in vast
numbers, roamed far and wide in search of food; he knew that here they
were less shy and more easily secured than elsewhere, and he believed
that, hidden by the prevalent and friendly fogs, his swift little
schooner could escape the vigilance of meddlesome patrol boats. Of
course he ran the risk of losing his vessel by taking her into the
forbidden waters for this purpose, and of course he was disobeying a
law in so doing, Captain Duff was willing to run the risk, however,
and as for laws――while he entertained a great respect for those that
protected his interests, he had little regard for such as interfered
with his schemes for money-getting. So, having hidden the seal-skins
already secured in a place from which he, or those whom he might send,
could reclaim them at some future time, and having provided himself
with a supply of salted codfish, beneath which the skins that he now
hoped to obtain might be concealed, foxy Captain Duff headed the
_Seamew_ into Bering Sea, and sailed her for a day and a night towards
the seal-haunted Pribyloff Islands.
Only he of all on board knew whither she was being taken; or if Jalap
Coombs suspected, he shrewdly kept his own counsel, as is always
best for mates to do unless their advice is asked. He had become so
strangely taciturn during the last two days, that even his boys, as he
called Phil and Serge, could extract no information from him.
Early in the morning of the second day the _Seamew_ was hove to. With
the first light the hunters were ordered into their boats, and sent in
pursuit of the schools of seals that surrounded the schooner in every
direction, as far as the eye could reach through the drifting fog.
These were darting, diving, leaping high in air, gambolling with all
the playfulness of kittens, and showing themselves by every movement to
be the swiftest of swimmers, and the most graceful of marine animals.
Although Phil Ryder was not prepared for a flat disobedience of orders,
he still moved towards the boat with such evident reluctance as to
attract the captain’s notice.
“I shall pay you the same commission as the other hunters for this
day’s work, Ryder,” said Captain Duff, a day or two later, when the
_Seamew_ was well into Bering Sea, “and the hunter making the biggest
score to-day will get a ten-dollar bonus. The same will be given to the
steersman of his boat, and half as much to his boat-puller.”
“Hurrah for Captain Duff!” yelled Oro Dunn. “That bonus has got to come
to my boat, or I’m no shot.”
“Don’t ye be too sure of that!” shouted Ike Croly, whose boat had
pushed off. “I’ve already laid out to spend that money myself.”
“Oh, you have, have you?” muttered Phil, with all the old pride in his
reputation as a crack shot fully aroused. “Perhaps you’d better not
spend it until you get it, though.”
“Come back to the schooner with each dozen that ye get, and we’ll take
care of ’em here,” was Captain Duff’s parting instruction as the boats
put off.
Never had Phil imagined that so many seals existed as he saw that day,
nor did it seem possible that these could be the same shy creatures he
had encountered in the North Pacific. In the excitement of making a
score he forgot all that he had said about seal-killing being butchery,
and fired at every mark with the reckless ardor of an enthusiastic
sportsman.
Five times during that day of slaughter did the mate’s boat return to
the schooner, and each time she bore a dozen seals. On the last return
trip she was laden to the gunwales with a dozen and two more.
“Never in all my experience did I see sich a day’s haul of seals!”
exclaimed Jalap Coombs. “And I only wish my friend, old Kite Roberson,
war here to see what a Yankee boy kin do with a pop-gun.”
“I’m glad he isn’t,” replied Phil, who, weary and aching all over, was
beginning to feel ashamed of and disgusted with his day of killing.
As he clambered up over the schooner’s side he caught sight of
something that caused him to start back as though he had been struck.
On the deck, mingled with blood and blubber, was a white fluid that ran
to the scuppers and trickled from them in streams.
“What is it?” demanded Phil, hoarsely, of one of the crew, who was
busily skinning a seal. As he asked the question he pointed a trembling
finger to a pool of the white fluid.
“That!” answered the man, indifferently. “Why, that’s milk from the
cows you fellows have been bringing in to-day.”
“Cows! Do you mean seal-mothers? Where are their young?”
“What! the pups? Back on the rookeries, of course.”
“And what will become of them?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I suppose they’ll die after a while. But what ails
you? Be you sick?” With this the man paused for a moment in his work
and gazed curiously at Phil’s pale face.
“Sick! Yes, I am sick at heart!” cried the conscience-stricken lad,
before whose mental vision was flashing a vivid picture of the helpless
and starving pups whose mothers he had slaughtered that day. He seemed
to hear their pitiful little voices growing weaker and weaker with each
hour as they called in vain for those who would never return to them.
He seemed to see them dying, after days of suffering, and for a moment
he felt all the horror that comes to him who has committed a murder.
He was restored to his surroundings by Captain Duff’s loud voice
calling out: “Hello, Ryder! Here’s your bonus; for you’re high line
to-day. If ye’ll only do as well to-morrow and the day after, I’ll
promise to start ye for Sitka by steamer afore the week’s out.”
Thus saying, the speaker extended towards the lad the reward he had
promised for that day’s butchery――a ten-dollar gold piece.
With a cry of rage and a savage motion Phil snatched the glittering
coin, and with all his might flung it from him into the sea. Then
confronting the amazed man with blazing eyes and a wrathful voice, he
almost screamed: “Did you think I would take your blood-money? I’ve
sunk as low as murder, I know, but not so low as to take pay for it!
And bad as I am, you are a thousand times worse, for I did not know
what I was doing, while you knew all the time and urged me on. But
never, so long as I live, will I take the life of another of those
harmless creatures. Never! never!”
“What ever does the boy mean? Has he lost his senses and gone mad?”
cried the captain, in bewilderment, at the same time retreating a
step, as though fearful that Phil was about to spring at him.
At that moment came a startling interruption of this tragic scene. It
was the deep boom of a heavy gun, evidently fired from a considerable
distance to windward.
Instantly all eyes were turned in that direction, where through the
twilight was still distinctly to be seen a white steamer, with a cloud
of black smoke pouring from her yellow funnel, and headed in their
direction.
The exclamation of “A cutter!” was heard from a dozen lips at once,
and, sure enough, it was one of those handy little government cruisers
that are so dreaded by evil-doers, and afford so great a protection to
honest sailors. She had fired a blank shot from her single gun as a
command for the _Seamew_ to lie to and await her coming.
The schooner was under way, and running down the wind to the eastward
under easy sail. Captain Duff could not afford to be caught thus,
red-handed as it were, with the bodies of recently-killed seals on his
deck, and the green hides of others still unstowed. The steamer was
yet a mile away. The _Seamew_ was remarkably fast in a moderate breeze
and smooth water, and night was coming on. He could at least gain time
enough to conceal his illegal freight and to transform his vessel, to
all outward appearance, into an ordinary fisherman. He might possibly
escape entirely, and the chance was worth taking.
“Bring her on the wind!” he shouted to the man at the wheel. “Trim
in! trim in! Up with your main-topsail, flying-jib, and jib-topsail!
Lively, lads! lively! Drop everything else, and get sail on to her! Mr.
Coombs, break out the main-stay sail and set it. Here, you! Help me get
in these boats!”
Phil was so carried away by the excitement of the moment that before
he knew what he was about he found himself working furiously with the
captain and two other men at getting the boats that were still towing
alongside out of the water and on deck.
By the time this was done the schooner was hauled on an easy bowline,
which was her best point of sailing, and with every stitch of canvas
that could be packed on her, was tearing through the water so swiftly
that it seemed doubtful if even a steamer could catch her. Certainly,
if the wind held, she could not be overhauled before night closed down.
Still, while she was getting into racing trim, and on account of the
alteration in her course, the cutter had made a decided gain, and was
now much nearer than at first.
“Blow, good wind, blow!” shouted Captain Duff, as he stood on the
after-deck, critically eying his sails. Phil Ryder stood a short
distance from him, watching the cutter, and experiencing a return
of the bitter feelings he had forgotten during the recent period of
excitement and action.
“Oh, I hope she will catch us!” he exclaimed, aloud, though
unconsciously.
Just then a second gun was fired by the pursuer, and with an angry
scream a shot flew over the schooner, and plunged into the water far
ahead.
[Illustration: “JUST THEN A SECOND GUN WAS FIRED BY THE PURSUER”]
“Then go below, ye swab, and stay there!” roared Captain Duff, furious
at both the shot and Phil’s words. As he spoke he gave the lad a
violent shove that landed him at the foot of the cabin stairs, and at
the same time the slide was drawn to above his head.