A DOUBLE WATCH FOR SCHOONERS
Kooga the Aleut spent the rest of that day and the following night
with his new-found friends. The dinner, to which all of them had
looked forward with such interest, proved a great success. From his
bidarkie the young native produced a small brass kettle, in which they
made a venison stew that they ate with mussel-shell spoons. He also
brought forth a basket so exquisitely woven of native grasses as to
be perfectly water-tight. In this was his choicest treasure, a brick
of tea, such as the Western Aleuts procure from Russian traders, and
which they guard with most jealous care. From this, after the stew had
disappeared and the kettle was thoroughly cleansed, he treated himself
and his friends to a brewing of the fragrant leaf.
In the meantime bits of venison and seal meat were cooking and being
eaten on all sides, while Kooga every now and then allowed himself
an extra relish in the shape of a strip of raw seal blubber. He
also showed the others how to roast the larger caribou bones, and
extract from them the marrow, which Phil, tasting for the first time,
pronounced “immense.”
After the feast came to an end, owing to the inability of its guests
to eat another mouthful, Kooga taught them to build a low scaffold of
drift-wood, on which to smoke and dry by fire-heat strips of venison
and split salmon. In procuring wood for this purpose, he and Phil
visited the wrecked whale-boat. The tide was low, and while wandering
about in the vicinity of the wreck, the keen eye of the Aleut detected
something buried in kelp at the edge of the breakers. Drawing this
forth, he laid it at Phil’s feet. To the lad’s astonishment, it proved
to be his bag of water-proof rifle-cartridges, lost when the wreck
occurred. For an hour or more they searched among the slippery rocks
with the hope of finding one or both of the lost guns, but without
success. Then, as the recovered cartridges were of no use to him,
Phil presented them to Kooga, whose rifle they exactly fitted, to the
immense gratification of that young Aleut.
It having been decided that the plan proposed by Serge should be
carried out, and a quantity of food having been prepared both for
taking and for leaving behind, the two white lads and their native
guide made an early start for the south side of the island the next
morning. Jalap Coombs remained at the barrabkie, to which they promised
to return in a day or two, or at least before the four days, at the
expiration of which a schooner might be expected on that side, should
have elapsed.
Phil and Kooga, who had struck up a wonderful intimacy, went in the
bidarkie, which also carried their very simple camp outfit, while Serge
followed down the shore of the strait.
As the little party set forth, Jalap Coombs called after them, “Mind,
boys, and get back as quick as ever ye can, either with or without the
schooner, for we’ll be turrible lonely while ye’re gone――me and old
Kite Roberson will.”
Owing to the intricate and dangerous navigation of Krenitzin Strait,
which necessitated long détours and occasioned many delays, the
bidarkie did not reach the south side of the island much before Serge,
who had put in twenty miles or so of the toughest kind of tramping
without a halt.
It did not take them long to pitch the little tent and collect
materials for a fire, which Kooga lighted without difficulty by means
of an old-fashioned flint and steel, his tinder being now perfectly
dry. Drift-wood was so scarce on that side of the island that they
were obliged to content themselves with a very small blaze. It was
sufficient, however, to boil water for a kettle of tea, and this, with
a few strips of dried venison toasted on the coals, constituted a meal
that even Phil declared was better than some he had eaten.
After dinner, as there were still some hours of daylight left and no
schooner was in sight, Serge, wishing to try for a halibut with one of
his home-made hooks, proposed to Kooga to take him a short distance
from shore in the bidarkie――a proposal to which the latter readily
acceded.
So they went fishing, and Phil, still incredulous as to their success
with such rude tackle, sat on the edge of a precipitous cliff and
watched them. As he sat there he could not help feeling very lonely and
rather homesick. His thoughts turned towards the father whom he loved
so dearly. He wondered if he were very anxious about him, and whether
he had gone to Victoria to search for him, or were still awaiting his
coming in Sitka.
“Oh dear,” sighed the lad, “how wretchedly I have mixed things up,
anyway! Just as Aunt Ruth said I would, too. No matter. I’m on the
right track at last, and I must reach Sitka very soon now. If I don’t,
it won’t be my fault, anyhow. I wonder if Aunt Ruth has heard that I am
lost, and what she would say if she could see me at this minute.”
With this he glanced about him, and the vastness of his own surroundings
filled him with a sense of his own insignificance and weakness. Before
him was out-spread the limitless Pacific, whose mighty billows surged
and thundered against the black rocks hundreds of feet below. In the
immeasurable distance the sun was sinking beneath the heaving waters.
Behind him towered a range of frowning mountains, their gaunt frames
seared and riven by the Plutonic forces whose ominous banner still
floated from Shishaldin’s lofty crest. A few sea-fowl circled and
screamed about his head. How terrible it was to be there alone! Phil
laughed for human companionship, and wished the other fellows would
come back.
Suddenly he started up in affright. The bidarkie was not where he had
last seen it. What had happened? Was he indeed alone in that awful
place? No; there it was, and Phil heaved a great sigh of relief.
But how far away it was! How could they have gained such a distance
so quickly? Now it seemed to be coming towards him again, and at a
tremendous speed. What could it all mean? He rubbed his eyes to be
sure they were not playing him false. That they were not was proved
by a sight of the frail craft right abreast of him, but madly dashing
past, and above the surge of breakers the shouts of his companions came
faintly to his ears.
For nearly an hour were the erratic movements of the bidarkie
continued, and then slowly and heavily it approached the shore. Phil
ran back and down the roundabout way leading to the beach to meet it.
When he reached the water’s edge he found the others already on shore,
and just landing a halibut so huge that both the white lads estimated
it to weigh fully two hundred pounds.
“You see,” explained Serge, “we couldn’t get it into the canoe, or kill
it, or do anything except let it tow us round till it was tired out.
Finally we got close enough for Kooga to spear it, and then we took our
turn at towing. The hook held, though, and I don’t believe it would if
it hadn’t been a good one.”
“It certainly is a good one!” exclaimed Phil, “and I will never say
another word against that style of tackle. But, oh, Serge, it was
horrid here while you were gone, and I hope you won’t ever leave me
alone in such a place again.”
“All right, old fellow, I won’t,” replied Serge, heartily.
After securing the precious bidarkie in a place of safety, and cutting
a few steaks from the great halibut, the three lads returned to camp,
where they passed their evening in cooking and eating another meal.
“I don’t know how it is,” remarked Phil, meditatively, as he washed the
dishes by thrusting his sheath-knife into a tuft of moss, “but there
seems to be something in the air of this country that makes a fellow
want to eat about a dozen meals a day.”
There seemed to be something in the air that compelled sleep, too. As
there was a moon, the others agreed to Phil’s proposition, born of his
recent resolves, to take turns in watching all night for the schooner.
Kooga, to whom the plan was explained by Serge, was to take the first,
Serge the midnight, and Phil the morning watch. This scheme was carried
out as arranged, except that the rising sun found the last watcher
sound asleep. Awakened by its warm beams, he cast a glance at the sea,
sprang to his feet, rubbed his eyes, and looked again. Then he gave a
shout that brought the others to his side.
The sight that met their gaze was that of a placid sea, with a dozen
bidarkies, fully two miles away, stretched out in a long line on its
heaving bosom. Beyond them were the white sails of a schooner headed to
the eastward.
“How could she have got past without you seeing her?” asked Serge.
“I’m sure I don’t know,” answered Phil, “unless it was that I had
closed my eyes for a minute. You see, I was so awfully sleepy that I
had the hardest kind of work to keep them open. Now I’ll tell you what,
though: Kooga and I will go out and overtake those bidarkies and find
out when the schooner is coming back. We can catch them easy enough,
for they seem to be waiting for something. I shouldn’t wonder if they
were going to make a surround, which is what I want to see more than
anything.”
“Well,” agreed Serge, hesitatingly; “but don’t you think I’d better go,
as I can understand what they say?”
“Oh, that’ll be all right,” replied Phil, confidently. “There are sure
to be some among them who can speak enough English to tell me what I
want to find out.”
“And you will be back before night?”
“Of course. Probably inside of a couple of hours.”
Serge hurriedly explained Phil’s proposal to Kooga, and that shrewd
native, glad to have the company of so mighty a hunter as the Yankee
lad, willingly agreed to take him along and show him how sea-otters are
captured.
Then he hastily collected his weapons, and taking with him a few strips
of dried meat to be eaten as they went, the young Aleut led the way to
the cove, where his bidarkie was hauled up.
Phil, also snatching up some strips of meat, quickly followed, and
Serge went down to see them off.
“Don’t forget, Phil, that you’re to be back before dark!” he shouted,
as the light craft shot out from the cove.
“Never you fear, old man!” came back in laughing tones.
He who was left climbed up to the place Phil had occupied the evening
before, and watched the fleet of bidarkies until all of them had
vanished in the dim distance. Then, with many misgivings as to the
wisdom of the plan just pursued, Serge turned slowly away to prepare
his solitary breakfast.