Boy With the U. S. Fisheries

  CHAPTER II

  THE FIGHT OF THE OLD BULL SEALS

  The quick, uneasy pitching of the boat and a sudden dash of ice-coldspray roused the captain from the fit of abstraction into which thesinking of his ship had plunged him.

  "Step the mast, men," he said; "we've got to make for the nearest land.It's going to be a dirty night, too."

  "Did you want us to put a reef in, sir?" asked the old whaler.

  "When I want a sail reefed," the captain answered shortly, "I'll tellyou."

  As the mast fell into place and the sail was hoisted, the whale-boatheeled sharply over and began to cut her way through the water at a goodspeed, leaving the two prams far in the rear. The captain, who wassteering mechanically, paid no heed to them, staring moodily ahead intothe darkness. Hank looked around uneasily from time to time, then in afew moments he spoke.

  "The mate's signaling, I think, sir," he said.

  Colin looked round but could only just see the outline of the larger ofthe two boats, and knew it was too dark to distinguish any motions onboard her. He looked inquiringly at Hank, but the old gunner waswatching the captain.

  "What does he want?" questioned the captain angrily.

  "Orders, sir, I suppose," the whaler answered.

  The captain felt the implied rebuke and looked at him sharply, butalthough he was a strict disciplinarian, he knew Hank's worth as aseaman of experience and kept back the sharp reply which was upon hislips. Then turning in his seat he realized how rapidly they had spedaway from the boats they were escorting, and said:

  "I'll bring her up."

  He put the tiller over and brought the whale-boat up into the wind, andin a few minutes the mate's boat and the smaller pram came alongside.

  "Don't you want us to keep together, sir?" cried the mate as soon as hewas within hearing.

  "Of course," the captain answered. "You can't keep up, eh?"

  "Not in a breeze like this, sir," the mate declared.

  "All right, then," was the response; "we'll reef." He nodded to thegunner and the reef points were quickly tied, thus enabling the threeboats to keep together.

  As the night wore on the wind increased until quite a gale was blowing,and the whale-boat began to plunge into the seas, throwing spray everytime her nose went into it. The oilskins shone yellow and dripping inthe feeble light of a lantern and although it was nearly the end of Junea cold wind whipped the icy spume-drift from the breaking whitecaps.

  "Doesn't feel much like summer, Hank!" said Colin, shivering from coldand fatigue, also partly from reaction following his exciting adventurewith the gray whale.

  "Behring Sea hasn't got much summer to boast of," the old whalerreplied; "leastwise not often. You may get one or two hot days, but whenthe sun goes down the Polar current gets in its work an' it's cold."

  "Where do you suppose we're going, Hank?" the boy asked, with a firmbelief that the old whaler knew everything. "I don't like to botherCaptain Murchison."

  "Nor I," the gunner answered, looking toward the stern of the boat;"let him fight his troubles out alone. As for where we're goin', I don'tknow. I can't even see the stars, so I don't know which way we'reheadin'."

  "Do you suppose we'll strike Alaska?" Colin queried. "Or perhaps thenorth of Japan? Say, it would be great if we fetched up at Kamchatka orsomewhere that nobody had ever been before!"

  The lad's delight in the thought of landing at some inhospitablenorthern island off the coast of Asia was so boyish that in spite of thediscomfort of their present position, the old whaler almost laughedoutright.

  "Japan's a long ways south of here," he said. "We'd strike the Aleutianor the Kuril Islands before we got near there. I reckon we ought to tryfor some place on the Alaska coast, but as I remember, the wind was deadeast when we left the _Gull_ an' I don't think it's changed much."

  Colin gave a long yawn and then shivered.

  "I wouldn't mind being in my berth on the _Gull_!" he said longingly;"I'm nearly dead with sleep."

  "Why don't you drop off?" Hank advised. "There's nothin' you can do tohelp. Here, change places with me an' you won't get so much spray."

  "But you'll get it then!" the boy protested.

  "If I had a dollar for every time I've got wet in a boat," the oldwhaler answered, "I wouldn't have to go to sea any more."

  He got up and made Colin change places.

  "Are you warmer now?" he asked a minute or two later.

  "Lots," the boy murmured drowsily, and in a few seconds he was fastasleep. The old whaler gently drew the boy towards him, so that he wouldbe sheltered from the wind and spray, and held him safe against therolling and pitching of the little boat. The long hours passed slowly,and Colin stirred and muttered in his dreams, but still he slept onthrough all the wild tumult of the night, his head pillowed against Hankand the old whaler's arm around him.

  He wakened suddenly, with a whistling, roaring sound ringing in hisears. Dawn had broken, though the sun was not yet up, and Colin shiveredwith the wakening and the cold, his teeth chattering like castanets. Adamp, penetrating fog enwrapped them. Four of the sailors were rowingslowly, and the sail had been lowered and furled while he was asleep.Every few minutes a shout could be heard in the distance, which wasanswered by one of the sailors in the whale-boat.

  "Where's the mate's boat, Hank?" asked the boy, realizing he had heardonly one shout.

  "She got out of hailin' distance, a little while before breakfast," theother answered, "but that doesn't matter so much, because she can't verywell get lost now."

  "But why is the sail down?"

  The old whaler held up his hand.

  "Do you hear that noise?" he asked.

  "Of course I hear it," the boy answered; "that's what woke me up. Butwhat is it?" he continued, as the roar swelled upon the wind.

  "What does it sound like?" the gunner asked him.

  The boy listened carefully for a minute or two and then shook his head.

  "Hard to say," he answered. "It sounds like a cross between Niagara anda circus."

  Scotty, who had overheard this, looked round.

  "That's not bad," he said; "that's just about what it does sound like."

  "But what is the cause of it, Hank?" the boy queried again. "I neverheard such a row!"

  "Fur seals!" was the brief reply.

  "Seals?" said Colin, jumping up eagerly. "Oh, where?"

  "Sit down, boy," interrupted the captain sternly; "you'll see enough ofseals before you get home."

  "All right, Captain Murchison," Colin answered; "I'm in no hurry to behome."

  In spite of his recent loss the captain could not help a grim smilestealing over his face at the boy's readiness for adventure, no matterwhere it might lead. But he had been a rover in his boyhood himself, andso he said no more.

  "Why, there must be millions of seals to make as much noise as that!"Colin objected.

  "There aren't; at least, not now," was Hank's reply. "There were tens ofmillions of fur seals in these waters when I made my first trip out herein 1860, but they've been killed off right an' left, same as thebuffalo. The government has to protect 'em now, an' there's no pelagicsealin' allowed at all."

  "What's pelagic sealing?" asked Colin.

  "Killing seals at sea," the whaler answered. "That's wrong, because youcan't always tell a young male from a female seal in the water, an' thefemales ought never to be killed. But you'll learn all about it. Begpardon, sir," Hank continued, speaking to the captain, "but by the noiseof the seals those must be either the Pribilof or the CommanderIslands?"

  "Pribilof, by my reckoning," the captain answered. "Do you hear anythingof the third boat?"

  "No, sir," answered the old whaler, after shouting a loud "Ahoy!" towhich but one answer was returned, "but we'll see her, likely, when thefog lifts."

  "Doesn't lift much here," the captain said. "But with this offshorewind, they ought to hear the seals three or four miles away."

  In the meantime the whale-boat was forging through the
water slowly andthe noise of the seals grew louder every minute. The sun was rising, butthe fog was so dense that it was barely possible to tell which was theeast.

  "Funny kind of fog," said Colin; "seems to me it's about as wet as thewater!"

  "Reg'lar seal fog," Hank replied. "If it wasn't always foggy the sealswouldn't haul out here, an' anyway, there's always a lot of fog arounda rookery. Must be the breath of so many thousands o' seals, I reckon."

  SPEARING SEALS AT SEA.

  Pelagic sealing by Aleut natives now forbidden by the governments of theUnited States, Great Britain, Russia, and Japan.

  _Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]

  "Pretty things, seals," said the boy.

  "Where did you ever see any?" his friend queried.

  "Oh, lots of places," Colin answered, "circuses and aquariums and placeslike that. I even saw a troupe of them on the stage once, playing ball.They put up a good game, too."

  "Those weren't the real fur seals," Hank replied; "what you saw were thecommon hair seals, an' they're not the same at all. You can't keep furseals alive in a tank!"

  "There are two fur seals in the aquarium of the Fisheries Building atWashington," interposed the captain, "but those are the only two."

  "There!" cried the boy, pointing at the water; "there's one now!"

  "You'll see them by hundreds in a few minutes, boy," the captain said."I think I make out land."

  As he spoke, an eddy of wind blew aside part of the fog, revealingthrough the rift a low-lying island. Within a minute the fog had closeddown again, but the glimpse had been enough to give the captain hisbearings. The noise from the seal-rookery had grown deafening, so thatthe men had to shout to one another in the boat and presently--and quiteunexpectedly--the boat was in the midst of dozens upon dozens of seals,throwing themselves out of the water, standing on their hind flippers,turning somersaults, and performing all manner of antics.

  "Why don't we land?" asked Colin, as he noticed that the boat wasrunning parallel with the shore instead of heading directly for it.

  "Land on a seal-rookery?" said Hank. "Haven't you had trouble enoughwith whales so far?"

  "Would seals attack a boat?" asked Colin in surprise.

  "No, you couldn't make 'em," was the instant reply, "but I never heardof a boat landin' at a rookery. The row would begin when you gotashore."

  Gradually the boat drew closer to the land, as close, indeed, as waspossible along the rocky shore, and then the land receded, forming ashallow bay flanked by two low hills on one side and one sharper hill onthe other. The captain rolled up his chart and headed straight for theshore.

  "St. Paul, I reckon," said Hank, as the outlines of the land showedclearly, "but I don't jus' seem to remember it."

  "Yes, that's St. Paul," the captain agreed. "It has changed since yourtime, Hank. There has been a lot of building since the government tookhold."

  "Why, it looks quite civilized!" exclaimed Colin in surprise, as he sawthe well-built, comfortable frame houses and a stone church-spire whichstood out boldly from the hill above the wharf.

  "When I first saw St. Paul," said the old whaler, "it looked just aboutthe way it was when the Russians left it--huts and shacks o' the worstkind an' the natives were kep' just about half starved."

  "It's different nowadays," said the captain as they drew near the wharf,putting under his arm the tin box that held the ship's papers. "TheAleuts are regular government employees now and they have schools andgood homes and fair wages. Everything is done to make them comfortable.I was here last year and could hardly believe it was the same settlementI saw fifteen years ago."

  It was still early morning when the boat was made fast to the wharf, andColin was glad to stretch his legs after having slept in a crampedposition all night. The damp fog lay heavily over everything, but thevillagers had been aroused and the group of sailors was soon surroundedby a crowd, curious to know what had happened. Hank, who could speak a'pigeon' language of mixed Russian and Aleut, was the center of a groupcomposed of some of the older men, while Colin graphically described toall those who knew English (the larger proportion) the fight with thegray whale, and told of the sinking of the _Gull_ by the big finback,maddened by the attack of the killers. He had just finished a stirringrecital of the adventures when the other two boats from the _Gull_loomed up out of the fog and made fast to the wharf.

  Hearing that the only breakfast the shipwrecked men had been able to getwas some cold and water-soaked provender from the boat, two or three ofthe residents hurried to their homes on hospitable errands bent, and ina few minutes most of the men were thawing out and allaying the pangs ofhunger with steaming mugs of hot coffee and a solid meal. So, when thecaptain came looking for Colin that he might take him to the Fisheriesagent's house, he found the lad--who was thoroughly democratic in hisways--breakfasting happily with the sailors and recounting for thesecond time the thrills and perils of the preceding day.

  Rejoining the captain an hour or so later at the house to which he hadbeen directed, Colin was effusively greeted by the assistant to theagent, a young fellow full of enthusiasm over the work the Bureau ofFisheries was doing with regard to fur seals. A natural delicacy hadkept him from troubling Captain Murchison, but as soon as he discoveredthat Colin was interested in the question and anxious to find out all hecould about seals, he hailed the opportunity with delight.

  "I've just been aching for a chance to blow off steam," he said. "It'san old story to the people here. Obviously! I don't think they halfrealize how worth while it all is. I'm glad to have you here," hecontinued, "not only so that we can help you after all your dangers, butso that I can show you what we do."

  "I'm still more glad to be here," Colin replied, after thanking him."I've been trying to persuade Father to let me join the Bureau, but thisis such an out-of-the-way place that I never expected to be able to seeit for myself."

  "It is a little out of the way," the official replied. "But in someways, I think it's the most important place in the entire world so faras fisheries are concerned. It's the one strategic point for a greatindustry. Of course!"

  "Why is it so important, Mr. Nagge?" Colin queried. "Just because of theseals, or are there other fisheries here?"

  "Just seals," was the reply, in the jerky speech characteristic of theman. "Greatest breeding-place in the world. You'll see. Nothing like itanywhere else. And, what's more, it's almost the last. This is the onlyfort left to prevent the destruction not of a tribe--but of an entirespecies in the world of life. Certainly!"

  "Calling it a fort seems strange," Colin remarked.

  "Well, isn't it? It's the heroic post, the forlorn hope, the last standof the battle-line," the Fisheries enthusiast replied. "All the nationsof the world were deliberately allowing all the fur seals to be killedoff. Uncle Sam stopped it. It's not too late yet. The Japaneseseal-pirates must be exterminated absolutely! Could you run a ranch ifevery time a steer or cow got more than three miles away from the corralanybody could come along and shoot it? Of course not. Obviously!"

  "But this isn't a ranch!"

  "Why not? Same principle," the assistant agent answered. "Ranchers breedcattle in hundreds or thousands. We breed seals in hundreds ofthousands; yes, in millions. And a fur seal is worth more than a steer.Oh, yes!"

  "Do seals breed as largely still?" Colin asked in surprise.

  "Would if they had the chance," was the indignant answer. "Undoubtedlymillions and millions have been killed in the last fifty years. Takestime to build up, too! Only one baby seal is born at a time. A run-downherd can't increase so very fast. But we're getting there. Certainly!"

  "Our gunner was telling me," Colin said, "that killing seals at sea wasthe cause of all the trouble."

  "Yes. Lately. Before that, rookery after rookery had been visited andevery seal butchered. Old and young alike. No mercy. Worst kind ofcruelty."

  "But hasn't the sea trouble been stopped?" queried the boy. "I thoughtit had, but you said something just now about
seal-pirates."

  "Stopped officially," his informant said. "Can't kill a seal in theocean, not under any consideration. That is, by law. Not in Americanwaters. Nor in Russian waters. Nor in Japanese waters. Nor in the opensea. International agreement determines that. Of course. But lots ofpeople break laws. Obviously! Big profit in it. There's a lot of killinggoing on still. Stop it? When we can!"

  "But how about killing them on land?" Colin asked. "You do that, I know,because I've read that the Bureau of Fisheries even looks after theselling of the skins. While it may be all right, it looks to me asthough you were killing them off, anyhow. What's the good of saving themin the water if you wipe them out when they get ashore."

  "You don't understand!" his friend said. "Got anything to do right now?"

  "Not so far as I know," Colin answered.

  "You've had breakfast?"

  "Yes, thanks," the boy answered, "and I tell you it tasted good after anight in the boat."

  "Come over to the rookery," the assistant agent said. "I'm going. Icount the seals every day. That is, as nearly as I can. Tell you allabout it. If you like, we'll go on to the killing grounds afterwards.Yes? Put on your hat."

  Colin realized that his host seldom had a listener, and as he was reallyanxious to learn all that he could about the fur seals, these creaturesthat kept up the deafening roar that sounded like Niagara, he followedinterestedly.

  "Looks a little as if it might clear," he suggested, as they left thehouse. "We could stand some sunshine after this fog."

  The other shook his head.

  "Don't want sunshine," he said. "Fog's much better."

  "What for?" asked Colin in surprise. "Why should any one want fog ratherthan sunshine?"

  "Fur seals do," was the emphatic response. "No seals on any other groupsof islands in the North Pacific. Just here and Commander Islands. Why?"

  "Because they are foggier than others?" hazarded Colin at a guess.

  "Exactly. Fur seals live in the water nearly all year. Water is colderthan air. Seals are warm-blooded animals, too--not like fish. They'vegot to keep out the cold."

  "Is that why they have such fine fur?"

  "Obviously. And," the Fisheries official continued, "under that closewarm fur they have blubber. Lots of it."

  "Blubber like whales?"

  "Just the same. Fur and blubber keeps 'em warm in the cold water. Toomuch covering for the air. Like wearing North Pole clothing at theEquator. If the sun comes out they just about faint. On bright days theyoung seals make for the water. Those that have to stay on the rookerylie flat on their back and fan themselves. Certainly! Use their flippersjust the way a woman uses a regular fan. See 'em any time."

  Colin looked incredulously at his companion.

  "I'm not making it up," the other said. "They fan themselves with theirhind flippers, too. Just as easy."

  "I think they must be the noisiest things alive," said Colin, puttinghis fingers in his ears as they rounded the point and the full force ofthe rookery tumult reached them.

  "The row never stops," the assistant agent admitted. "Just as much atnight as daytime. Seals are used to swimming under water where light isdimmer. Darkness makes little difference. Seemingly! Don't notice itafter a while."

  "The queer part of it is," the boy said, listening intently, "that thereseem to be all sorts of different noises. It's just as I said cominginto the bay, it sounds like a menagerie. I'm sure I can hear sheep!"

  "Can't tell the cry of a cow fur seal from the bleating of an oldsheep," was the reply. "The pup seal 'baa-s' just like a lamb, too.Funny, sometimes. On one of the smaller islands one year we had a flockof sheep. Caused us all sorts of trouble. The sheep would come runninginto the seal nurseries looking for their lambs when they heard a pupseal crying. The lambs would mistake the cry of the cow seal for thebleating of their mothers."

  "Why do you call the mother seal a cow seal?" asked the boy.

  "Usual name," was the reply.

  "Then why is a baby seal a pup?" asked Colin bewildered. "I should thinkit ought to be called a calf!"

  The Fisheries official laughed.

  "Seal language is the most mixed-up lingo I know," he said. "Motherseal is called a 'cow,' yet the baby is called a 'pup.' The cow sealsare kept in a 'harem,' which usually means a group of wives. The wholegathering is called a 'rookery,' though there are no rooks or otherbirds around. The big 'bull' seals are sometimes called 'Sea-Catches' or'Beachmasters.' The two-year-olds and three-year-olds are called'Bachelors.' The 'pups,' too, have their 'nurseries' to play in."

  But Colin still looked puzzled.

  "Our gunner was talking about 'holluschickie'?" he said. "Are those adifferent kind of seal?"

  "No," was the reply, "that's the old Russian-native name for bachelors.There are a lot of native words for seals, but we only use that one and'kotickie' for the pups."

  "If the cow seals bleat," said Colin, "and the pups 'baa' like a lamb,what is the cry of the beachmaster?"

  "He makes the most noise," the agent said. "Never stops. Can you hear along hoarse roar? Sounds like a lion!"

  "Of course I can hear it," the boy answered; "I thought that must be asea-lion."

  "A sea-lion's cry is deeper and not so loud," his friend replied. "No.That roar is the bull seal's challenge. You're near enough to hear asort of gurgling growl?"

  "Yes," said Colin, "I can catch it quite clearly."

  "That's a bull talking to himself. Then there's a whistle when a fightis going on. When they're fighting, too, they have a spitting cough.Sounds like a locomotive starting on a heavy grade. Precisely!"

  "Do they fight much?" the boy asked.

  "Ever so often!" his informant replied. "Can't you hear the puffing?That shows there's a fight going on. I've seldom seen a rookery withouta mix-up in progress. That is, during the early part of the season afterthe cows have started to haul up. There's not nearly as much of it now,though, as there used to be."

  "Could I see a fight?" the boy asked eagerly.

  "Hardly help seeing one," was the reply. "Watch now. We're just at therookery. Immediately!"

  Turning sharply to the left, the older man led the way between two pilesof stones heaped up so as to form a sort of wall, and shut off at thesea end.

  "What's this for?" asked Colin.

  "Path through the rookery. Want to count the seals every once in awhile," the agent said. "Must have some sort of gangway. Obviously!Couldn't get near enough, otherwise."

  "Why not?" queried Colin. "Would the beachmasters attack you?"

  "They won't start it," was the reply. "Sea-catch keeps quiet unless hethinks you're going to attack his harem. About two weeks ago, I onlyjust escaped. Narrow squeeze. Wanted to get a photograph of one of thebiggest sea-catches I had ever seen. Took a heavy camera. The sea-catchdidn't seem excited. Not particularly. So, I came up quite close tohim."

  "How close, Mr. Nagge?"

  "Ten or twelve feet. Just about. I got under the cloth. Focused him allright. Then slipped in my plate. Just going to press the bulb when hecharged. Straight for me. No warning. I squeezed the bulb, anyhow;grabbed the camera and ran. Promptly!"

  "Did he chase you far?"

  "A few yards. I knew there was no real danger. Best of it was that theplate caught the bull right in the act of charging! I've got a print upat the house. Show you when we get home!"

  "I'd like to see it, ever so much," the boy answered.

  As they came to a gap in the wall, the agent halted.

  "There!" he said. "That's a rookery."

  In spite of all that he had heard before of the numbers of seals, andalthough the deafening noise was in a sense a preparation, Colin wasdazed at his first sight of a big seal rookery. For a moment he couldnot take it in. He seemed to be overlooking a wonderful beach of roundedboulders, smooth and glistening like polished steel; here and therepieces of gaunt gray rock projected above and at intervals of aboutevery fifteen to forty feet towered a huge figure like a walrus with amane of gri
zzled over-hair on the shoulders and long bristlyyellowish-white whiskers. For a moment the boy stood bewildered, thensuddenly it flashed upon him that this wonderful carpet of seemingboulders, this gleaming, moving pageantry of gray, was composed ofliving seals.

  "Why, there are millions of them!" he cried.

  Right from the water's edge back halfway to the cliffs, and as far asthe eye could see into the white sea-mist, every inch of the ground wascovered. Looking at those closest to him, Colin noticed that they lay inany and every possible attitude, head up or down, on their backs orsides, or curled up in a ball; wedged in between sharp rocks or on alevel stretch--position seemed to make no difference. Nor were any ofthem still for a minute, for even those which were asleep twitchedviolently and wakened every few minutes. And over the thousands ofsilver-gray cow seals, the sea-catches, the lords of the harem, three orfour times the size of their mates, stood watch and ward unceasingly.

  "Why do you herd them so close together?" asked Colin. "I should havethought there was lots of room on the beaches of the island."

  "They herd themselves," the agent said. "Don't go anywhere unless it iscrowded. The more a place is jammed, the more anxious they are to getthere. Newcomers won't go to empty harems. Unhappy with only one or twoother cows. Try and find room in a crowded bunch where one sea-catch islooking after thirty females."

  "But," said Colin, looking at the group which was nearest to him, "thereare a lot of little baby seals in there! They'll get trodden on!"

  "They are trodden on. Often," said the agent. "Can't be helped. Only afew pups right in the harems and they are all small. Obviously! Go awaywhen they are a week old. Wander from the harem to find playfellows.Make up 'pods' or nurseries. Sometimes four or five hundred in onenursery. Stay until the end of the season. There's a pod of pups," hecontinued, pointing up the beach; "about sixty of them, I should judge.Happy-looking? Clearly!"

  "They look like big black kittens," said Colin, as he watched themtumbling about on the pebbly beach, "and just as full of fun. Can theyswim as soon as they are born, Mr. Nagge?"

  "Seals have to learn to swim. Same as boys," he answered. "They teachthemselves, apparently! Young seal, thrown into deep water, will drown.Queer. Become wonderful swimmers, too."

  "About how long does it take them to learn?" Colin asked.

  "Don't begin until they are three weeks old," was the reply. "Practiseseveral hours a day. Swim well in about a month."

  "Why don't the father or the mother seals teach them?" queried the boy.

  "A sea-catch doesn't see anything outside the harem. As long as a pup iswithin twelve feet of him, he will fight on the instant if the baby isin danger. Once it is in the nursery the bull seal forgets the littleone's existence. He couldn't leave, anyway. Some other sea-catch wouldseize the harem."

  "You mean that the old seal can't get away at all?"

  "Not at all," was the reply.

  "Then what does he get to eat?" asked Colin in surprise, "do the cowseals bring him food?"

  "Not a bite. No. He doesn't eat at all. Not all summer."

  "Never gets a bite of anything? I should think he'd starve to death,"cried the lad.

  "Fasts for nearly four months. From the time a sea-catch hauls up in Mayand preempts the spot he has chosen for his harem he doesn't leave thatspot eight to sixteen feet square until late in August. Stays rightthere. He's active enough in some ways. No matter how much he floundersaround, he keeps right on his own harem ground. He could hardly getaway from it if he tried."

  HOLLUSCHICKIE HAULING UP FROM THE SEA.

  Rare sketch, taken before ever a camera was seen on the PribilofIslands. This beach, with many others, is now deserted by the depletionof the seal herd.

  _Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]

  OLD BULL-SEALS FIGHTING.

  Rare sketch, taken on the Gorbatch Rookery, St. Paul's Island, fortyyears ago. These combats are growing rarer as the seal herd growssmaller and the rivalry between the beach-masters is less intense. Thedate on the sketch shows it to have been made before the cow-sealshauled up.

  _Courtesy of the U. S. Bureau of Fisheries._]

  "Why not?"

  "He couldn't leave his own harem without getting into the next one.Obviously!" the agent promptly replied. "And he'd have to fight thatbeachmaster. Evidently! And so on every few feet he went. Besides, thevery moment his back was turned a neighboring bull would steal some ofhis cows. Certainly! Or, an idle bull would try and beat him out."

  "Which are the idle bulls?" asked Colin.

  "Those fellows at the back who came late or were beaten in the fight forplaces. They would charge down and take the harem, if he left it."

  "Well, then, how does he sleep?"

  "Doesn't sleep much," was the reply; "just little catnaps. Five or tenminutes at a time, perhaps. Light sleepers, too. If a cow tries to leaveor an intruder comes near he wakes right up. Immediately! He's on thealert, night and day." The agent laughed. "Eternal vigilance is the bullseal's motto, all right!"

  "But how can they stand it without food and without sleep?" Colin asked."That's over three months of fasting. And it isn't like an animalthat's asleep all winter. It seems to be their busiest time, fightingand watching and all that sort of thing!"

  "They live on their blubber," the agent explained. "In the spring theyhaul up heavy and fat. Can hardly move around they're so fleshy. It'sthe end of June now. You see! Many bulls are loaded with fat still. Bythe end of next month, though, they'll be getting thin. Some of 'em arelike skeletons when they leave the rookeries in August. They'll fight tothe end, though."

  "But if they leave each other's harems alone," Colin objected, "I don'tsee any cause for a fight."

  "The cows don't all come at the same time. Perhaps for six weeks thereare cows coming all the time. Those beachmasters who have harems nearestthe water want their family first and there's fighting all along thewater's edge, then. Other cows have to make their way inshore; any ofthe sea-catches may grab them. Wait a minute and watch. You'll see thescramble going on somewhere. There are two bulls fighting there," headded, pointing to a combat in progress some distance off, "and there'sanother--and another."

  "Is that one of the new cows just coming in from the water?" askedColin, pointing to the shore, where a female seal, quietly and withoutattracting attention, had landed near one of the large harems.

  "Yes," the agent said. "Just watch her a while. You'll see how thefighting begins."

  Moving quietly and slowly and making just as little disturbance aspossible, the incoming seal made her way through and over the recumbentseals, keeping as far as she could from the beachmasters. Those hugemonarchs of the waterside eyed her closely, but the harems were full tothe last inch of ground and they let her pass, the cow seal remainingquiet as long as the beachmaster was watching, then creeping on a yardor two.

  "She'll get caught by the next one," said Colin. "See, there's justabout room enough in his harem for one more."

  But the cow managed to make her way past, the old bull being engrossedin watching a neighboring sea-catch whom he suspected of designs uponhis home. She had only succeeded in reaching a point about six haremsinland, however, when a bull with a small group of only about twelvecows, suddenly reached out with his strong neck, grabbed her by theback with his sharp teeth and threw her on the rocks with the rest ofhis company. As the sea-catch weighed over four hundred pounds and thecow not more than eighty--the poor creature was flung down most cruelly.

  "The brute!" cried Colin.

  But for some reason the cow was dissatisfied with her new master andtried to escape. The old sea-catch made a lunge forward and caught herby the back of the neck, biting viciously as he did so, in such wisethat the teeth tore away the skin and flesh, making two raw and uglywounds.

  Colin's indignation was without bounds.

  "I'd like to smash that old beast!" he said, and if the agent had notbeen there to stop him the boy would have jumped over the low wall andgone to the
assistance of the cow seal.

  "That's going on all the time," the agent said. "You can't settle theaffairs of ten thousand families. Not offhand that way. You'd be keptbusy if you tried to fight the battles of every female that hauls up onSt. Paul rookery."

  "But see," cried Colin, "he's going after her again!"

  This time the sea-catch was evidently angry, for he shook the cow as adog does a rat and tossed her back into the very center of the harem,standing over her and growling angrily. The agent looked on tranquilly.

  "There's going to be trouble," he said. "See that idle bull coming?"

  He pointed to the back of the rookery, and Colin saw a sea-catch of goodsize, though not as large as the bull whose savage attack on the cow hadexcited Colin's resentment, come plunging down through the rookery withthe clumsy lope of the excited seal. The cow squirmed from under thethreatening fangs of her captor, but just as he was about to punish herstill more severely, he caught sight of the intruder, and, with avicious snap, he whirled round to the defense. The newcomer, thoughpowerful, showed the dark-brown rather than the grizzled over-hair ofthe older bull, but while he had youth on his side, he was not theveteran of hundreds of battles.

  Both stood upright for a moment, watching each other keenly, but withtheir heads averted, then the younger bull, with a forward movement sorapid that it could hardly be followed, struck downward with his longteeth to the point where the front flipper joins the body. It was aclever stroke, but the old bull knew all the tricks of warfare andturned the flipper in so that the teeth of his opponent only gashed theskin, and at the same time the old bull jerked his head up and sidewise,and sank his teeth deep into the side of the neck of the younger bull.

  "He's got him, what a shame!" cried Colin, whose sympathies were allwith the younger fighter.

  The old sea-catch, paying no attention to the roaring and whistling ofhis wounded rival, kept his teeth fast-clenched in a bulldog-like gripand braced himself against the repeated lunges the other made to getfree. There could be but one result to this and, with an agonizedwrench, the younger bull pulled himself free--tearing out several inchesof skin and leaving a gaping wound from which the blood streamed down.

  But he was not defeated yet!

  Facing his more powerful enemy, roaring unceasingly and with the shrillpiping whistle of battle, the younger bull fairly swelled with exertionand rage until he seemed almost the size of his big foe, his head dartedfrom side to side quick as a flash, and the revengeful, passionateeyes--so different from the limpid, gentle glance of the cowseals--flashed furiously as the blood poured down and reddened therocks around him.

  Again it was the younger bull who took the aggressive and, after acouple of feints, he reared and struck high for the face, just grazingthe cheek of the older bull and pulling out several of the stiffbristles on which his teeth happened to close, springing back in time toescape the double sickle-stroke of the sea-catch. The old bull roaredloudly and sprang forward, getting a firm hold of the younger by theskin behind the muscles of the shoulders. But he was a second too late,for as he closed his grip, the smaller fighter shifted and struck down,a hard clean blow, reaching the coveted point and half-tearing theflipper from the body.

  Undeterred by the injury, though the pain must have been intense, theold bull threw his weight upon the younger, bending him far over asthough to break the spine. Seals cannot move backward, and the smallerfighter was almost overbalanced. Then, seizing his chance, the oldbeachmaster let go his hold upon the other's back and got in a crashingblow at the same point where he had torn open the neck before, this timesinking his teeth so far in that the muscle of the shoulder showedplainly, and an instant later, although there seemed scarcely time tostrike a second blow, he swept down the body with his long, sharp teeth,catching the younger at the flipper-joint, and inflicting a wound almostexactly similar to that which he had received.

  Quick as a flash, the younger combatant gave up the fight. But as heturned, instead of merely crawling away defeated, he made a suddenconvulsive sprawl which the older bull was not expecting, and dug histeeth into the cow who had given rise to all the trouble, and lifted herbodily. The old beachmaster, his mane bristling with rage, made afterhim, but the younger bull, although he was forced to move on the stumpof his wounded flipper, held fast to his prize, even when the victorinflicted a fourth fearful wound.

  But before the old sea-catch could turn the plucky youngster, he saw twoother bulls sidling towards his harem, intending to steal his cows whilehe was off guard, and he lumbered back to repel the new intruders. Inthe meantime, the young bull was attacked on his way to his own stationby three other bulls near whose harems he had to pass, but he made noresistance and, though bleeding from a dozen wounds, he struggled on,leaving a gory trail in his wake, but gripping with grim determinationthe cow he had almost given his life to secure. When at last he reachedhis own station, he was a mass of blood from head to foot, his flesh washanging from him in strips and one of his fore-flippers was danglinguselessly.

  "He put up a plucky fight, anyway," said Colin, "even if he did getlicked."

  But it was for the poor cow seal that Colin felt the most sympathy. Shelay upon the rocks where her second captor had thrown her, absolutelyunconscious and seemingly almost dead, wounded in several places andcovered with blood and sand, a wretched contrast to the pretty, gentleanimal which the boy had seen emerge from the water not fifteen minutesbefore.

  "It's a shame," Colin said, speaking a little chokingly. "I didn't knowany animals could be so brutal."

  The agent glanced at him quickly.

  "The beachmasters are brutes," he said, "but mostly among themselves.Notice. The bull isn't even licking his wounds. He's pretty well usedup, too. They're always too proud to show that they feel their hurts.Evidently! Even when they have been almost torn to pieces."

  "Then you think he won't die?"

  "Not a bit of it," the agent said cheerfully. "He'll be ready foranother fight to-morrow."

  "But how about the poor cow? She looks about dead now," said Colin.

  "Not as bad as it looks! She's all right," his friend replied. "Thosewounds don't go down into vital parts. They usually just reach theblubber. There isn't a sea-catch on the rookery that hasn't had from tento twenty fights already this year. Most of 'em have been at it forseveral seasons. Yet you can hardly notice a scar on them. As for themother seal, she will probably have a baby seal to-morrow. In a week thewounds will all have healed over. Cat may have nine lives, but a sealhas ninety!"