JAPONSKI’S TEMPTATION AND THE FUR-TRADER’S OFFER
When the steamer _Norsk_ left the harbor of Oonalaska, on the very
day that Mr. John Ryder took lunch with her captain, she carried with
her the fur-seal’s tooth. Japonski, the table-boy, had listened with
avaricious ears to the story of its value. He hoped soon to go to Sitka
himself, for he had a brother there, employed as wardroom boy on an
American man-of-war. How well it would be to have one thousand of those
big American dollars to show to him and to spend! Japonski’s brother
had laughed when he sailed on the _Norsk_, and told him that not many
yen could be picked up in the merchant-service. So it had proved; but
here was a chance. A tooth would be a very little thing, and so easy to
hide. The white man said, “He who stole it would have no good-fortune”;
but he must have said that to make him, Japonski, afraid; but a
Hakodate man was not afraid. He would prove it.
So Japonski slipped the fur-seal’s tooth up his sleeve, even while,
with innocent face, he handed the overcoat to Mr. Ryder. That night, in
the privacy of his own cubby-hole, just off the pantry, he examined his
prize, and gloated over it. The white man had gone without suspecting
him, and the ship was already far on her way. Whatever this thing was
worth, it was his, and no one would ever know how he obtained it. He
smiled scornfully at the thought of its bringing him any misfortune;
but, as he looked at it closely, the smile faded from his face.
That bit of ivory had never been carved by Indian hands, nor by Aleuts,
nor Eskimo. Nowhere in the world could such dainty work be done, save
in his own country, and who would thus depict the frowning face of
Buddha, terror of evil-doers, except a devout native of Japan. That was
one emblem borne by the ivory tooth. On the opposite side was a fish.
What could it be but the lucky fish of Queen Jung-gu, the conqueror of
Corea?
Alas, that he had dared steal a curio of such omen as this; but he
could not give it back. He dared not give it to any except him from
whom he had stolen it. So he hid it away; but he thought of it all the
time, and from that day all things seemed to go wrong with him. Never
had he broken so many dishes, never spoiled so much food, never so
incurred the captain’s wrath. Still he clung to the tooth, and would
not part with it. The white man had said it was worth one thousand
silver dollars; that would be fifteen hundred silver yen, and on that
sum he could live like a prince for many years in his own country.
At the Pribyloffs the _Norsk_ took on board one Nikrik, an Aleut, who
had been for some years employed at St. Michaels, to act as a pilot
through the shoals of Norton’s Sound. Although there was a strong
general resemblance between this man and the cabin-boy, each of them
regarded the other as belonging to an inferior race. As, however, they
were both looked down on by the whites, they were almost forced into
each other’s society, and thus it came about that, very early in their
acquaintance, Japonski displayed his treasure to Nikrik, and asked him
what he thought of it.
Now the Aleut was too great a traveller not to have heard of the
fur-seal’s tooth, for it was known――at least, by fame――to all Northern
Alaska, and the moment he saw it he was determined to possess it. So he
told Japonski tales of its strange power for evil over all but those
native to Alaska, and tried to frighten him into giving it up. But
Japonski only smiled blandly and said, “Alle same I keep him.”
Still, he was made uneasy by these tales, and from that moment
misfortunes seemed to crowd upon him more thickly than ever. At length
he so enraged Captain Kuhn by his carelessness that that individual
turned purple in the face, became speechless, and was threatened with
an apoplectic fit. Japonski had seen him thus before, and knew just
what to do. There was a certain medicine that must be given quickly. He
prepared it, and forced a spoonful down the captain’s throat. To his
horror the captain turned white and rigid, and, to all appearances,
died, then and there.
The terrified cabin-boy rushed out for aid, and the very first person
he came across was the chief engineer, who was regulating a delicate
bit of machinery. The engineer was so startled by Japonski’s sudden
appearance that he dropped a tool into the machinery, something
snapped, and, a moment later, the engines were stopped for repairs.
Then Japonski ran and hid himself in his cubby-hole, where Nikrik,
finding him some time later, said that if the captain died and the ship
was lost it would all be owing to the fur-seal’s tooth, which he must
give up at once in order to avoid further disaster.
Upon this, Japonski conceived such a horror of the bit of ivory, that
he rushed frantically on deck and flung it with all his might into the
sea. Almost at the same instant the engines were again started, and,
when he went below, the first news he heard was that the captain was
getting better. So he was glad of what he had done, though it had cost
him a fortune in silver yen.
Early the next morning, when Nikrik went on deck before any one else
except the watch, he spied the bidarkie in which our lads had come,
and examined it closely to see where it had been made, and by whom.
As he turned it over, something rattled inside of its parchment skin.
The Aleut reached in to feel for the cause of this sound, and, when
he withdrew his hand, clutching the fur-seal’s tooth that he had
supposed was lost forever, his oily face was overspread with a broad
grin of gratified surprise. He knew, of course, that Japonski had
flung it overboard, and now he also knew that, by some miracle which
he attributed to the magic power of the tooth itself, it had fallen
into the drifting bidarkie. Nikrik had recognized the lads when they
were brought on board the night before; but, with the usual reticence
of his race, he had not yet mentioned this fact. Now he was glad of
it, because it was possible that one of them might claim the treasure
he had just stolen; for to an Aleut it is as much of a theft to take a
thing from a bidarkie as from its owner. So Nikrik’s guilty conscience
caused him to avoid Phil and Serge as much as possible during the short
time that they remained on the same ship.
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.”
“But she isn’t going there,” said Mr. Hamer. “She is chartered to carry
a cargo of furs from here to China.”
“Whew!” whistled Phil. “And is that where you are going?”
“Oh no, I am bound for Sitka,” laughed the trader.
“What?” cried both lads, in amazement.
“Yes, I mean it; though, to be sure, I expect to reach there in rather
a curious way. You see, I have in this ship a steamboat in sections,
a saw-mill, some mining machinery, and a couple of hundred tons of
merchandise. I am going to put my steamboat together as soon as we get
on shore, load my freight aboard, and take her a thousand miles up
the Yukon River to the mining camp at Forty-mile Creek. There I shall
leave her for the winter and go out on snow-shoes, with dog-sledges,
seven hundred miles across country to Pyramid Harbor, where I can get
a steamer most any time for Sitka, or Juneau, either of which is only
about one hundred miles farther. From one of those places I shall go
down to San Francisco for a new stock of goods, and have them up here
in time to meet my steamboat again in the early summer.
“Most of the men I have with me now are ship-carpenters, who will go
back on this steamer to San Francisco, by way of China; so only about
half a dozen will remain with me, and I should be very glad of a couple
more hands. Now, if you care to take this trip with me and are willing
to work your passage, I will pay all your expenses, and guarantee to
land you in Sitka, sooner or later. What do you say? Will you do it?”