Boy With the U. S. Fisheries

  CHAPTER III

  ATTACKED BY JAPANESE POACHERS

  "That's life on a rookery," the agent said. "Fight! Capture! More fight!But the holluschickie are different. Let's go to the hauling-grounds."

  "Is that where the killing goes on?" the boy asked.

  "Not quite," was the reply. "The road to the killing-grounds beginsthere, though. Naturally! We don't take any seals from a rookery."

  "Why not?"

  "No use! They are all either old bulls, females, or pups," was theanswer. "The fur of the old sea-catches is coarse. Couldn't sell it.Never kill a cow seal under any circumstances. That's what all thetrouble in killing seals at sea is about. You can't tell a holluschickiefrom a cow seal in the water. Cruel, too. When a cow seal is on her wayto the rookery, she will have a baby seal in a few days."

  "The holluschickie, then," said Colin, "don't come on the rookery atall?"

  "Never! Absolutely! The bachelors, which are young male seals five yearsold and under, leave the rookery alone. The old sea-catches look afterthat. Certainly! It is mutilation or death for a holluschickie to put somuch as a flipper on a rookery. They seldom try. Therefore, thehauling-grounds are at a distance. Obviously! Sometimes, though, it isimpossible for the holluschickie to get to the sea without having tocross the rough, rocky ground which is suitable for a rookery."

  "How can they work it, then?"

  "The sea-catches leave a road eight feet wide, no more, no less. Thispath through the rookery gives just room for two holluschickie to pass.The beachmasters whose harems are on either side of this road watchthem. They keep their lookout from a station right beside the road. Ifone of the holluschickie touches a cow on either side of this clearroad-space, he will be attacked savagely."

  "But I should think he could get away easily enough," Colin objected,"because the sea-catch can't leave his harem."

  "Can't! Old bulls are all the way along," the agent answered. "Every onewill attack a holluschickie who has once been attacked. No chance toescape. But the bachelors know that. They pass up and down such acauseway by thousands, night and day. They 'don't turn to de right,don't turn to de lef', but keep in de middle ob de road,'" quoted theagent, laughing.

  "And you say that all the furs, then, are taken from among theholluschickie?" queried the boy.

  "Every one of them."

  "But how do you hunt the bachelor seals?"

  The agent stared at him in surprise, and then burst into a short peal oflaughter.

  "Hunt? How do you hunt pet puppies?" he queried, in reply. "Theholluschickie are the tamest, gentlest creatures in the world. Here arethe hauling-grounds now. Let's go down. You'll see how tame they are."

  "But it's like a dancing-floor or a parade-ground for soldiers!" criedColin as, reaching the top of the hill, he looked across a stretch ofupland plain at least half a mile across. There was not a blade ofgrass, not a twig of shrubbery of any kind, all had been beaten down andthe bare ground was as smooth as though it had been leveled off androlled. Upon this bare plain, thousands of the holluschickie wereplaying, the most characteristic game seeming to be a voluntary march ordance, when the bachelors would roughly gather into lines or groups andlope along at exactly the same speed together for about fifty feet,stopping simultaneously for a few moments, and then going on again, asthough obeying the commands of a drill-sergeant.

  "They don't seem to play with each other much," commented Colin as thetwo walked among the holluschickie, who showed neither fear norexcitement, merely shuffling aside a foot or two to let them pass.

  "They do in the water," the agent said. "Play 'King of the Castle' on aflat-topped rock for hours together. One seal pushes the other off thecoveted post, only to be dislodged himself a minute after. And I havenever once seen any sign of ill-humor. They never bite. They neverinjure one another. They never even growl angrily. It's hard to believethat their tempers can change so quickly when they reach the rookery."

  "They seem to be of all ages and sizes," said Colin.

  BULL FUR-SEAL CHARGING THE CAMERA.

  _Courtesy of the National Geographic Magazine._]

  SNAPSHOTTING AN OLD BEACH-MASTER.

  This plate was recovered, although the photographer was drowned on thetreacherous shores of the Pribilof Islands the very day the picture wastaken.

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

  "Yearlings of both sexes and males from two years old to five," theagent answered.

  "Do they fast all summer, too, like the sea-catches?"

  "No," was the reply. "No need for it. They go to sea every few days. Ifthe sun is out they stay in the sea. They make long journeys, too, justas the mother seals have to do, because a seal needs at least thirtypounds of fish a day to keep in good condition. All the nearbyfishing-grounds have been exhausted."

  "I suppose the different colors show the different ages?" the boysuggested.

  "Exactly," the agent answered. "That's important, too. By law we areonly allowed to sell skins weighing between five and eight and a halfpounds. That means only those of males two and three years old. The skinof a yearling weighs just about four pounds and that of a four-year-oldmale eleven or twelve."

  "How about the two-year-old cow seals? You said that only the yearlingsamong the females were here."

  "The cow seals never come twice to the hauling grounds," was the reply."They go for the first time to the rookeries in their second year."

  "I should think it would be easy enough then to 'cut out' a herd," theboy said. "I could pretty nearly do it myself."

  "Obviously! Without any trouble!" was the reply. "But you've got to goslow."

  "Why?" the boy queried.

  "If a seal is hurried he gets heated. You remember I told you how littlethey can stand. If a seal is killed after being heated, fur comes off inpatches and the skin is of no value. Let's go on. I have to tally thosethat are knocked down."

  "I thought you were going to drive some!" said Colin in a disappointedtone, as they turned away from the hauling-grounds along a well-beatenroad.

  "The drive started three hours ago and more," was the reply. "Quarter ofa mile an hour is fast enough to make seals travel. You can drive asfast as a mile an hour, but lots will be left on the road to die fromthe exertion. Yet the same seals will swim hundreds of miles in a day."

  "But what can you do, then, on a warm day? Do you drive during thenight?"

  "No seals here on a warm day," was the immediate answer. "You saw allthose thousands of holluschickie on the hauling-grounds? If the sunwere to come out now, in half an hour there wouldn't be a seal on theentire flat. All disappear into the sea. Absolutely!"

  "What is that group over there?" asked Colin, pointing to a smallcluster a short distance ahead of them, near some rough frame buildings.

  "That's the drive," the agent answered. "The killing-grounds are alwaysnear the salt-houses. What's that? The smell? Worst smell in the world,I thought, when I first came here. You can't kill seals in the sameplace year after year and just leave the flesh to rot without having afrightful odor. One gets used to it after a while."

  "It seems to me that you're running the risk of starting up a plague orsomething!"

  "No," was the reply, "it has never caused any sickness here. Then thedrive is small now to what it used to be. Time was when three or fourthousand seals would be driven, where we only take a couple of hundrednow. Fallen off terribly! Fifty years ago, every available inch of allthe beach was rookery, settled as thick as in the rookery you saw justnow. The holluschickie were here in uncounted millions. These hills, nowovergrown with grass, show the soil matted with fine hair and fur wherethe seals shed their coats for hundreds of years. Now a few scatteredrookeries are all that remain."

  "Do you suppose the seal herd will ever be as big again?" the boy asked.

  The agent shook his head.

  "I'm afraid not. The governments interested won't keep up theinternational agreement long enough," he said regretfully. "It wouldtake thirty or f
orty years. Yet it would be worth it. You see," hecontinued, "this is absolutely the only place in the world where thetrue Alaskan fur seal--the sea bear, as it used to be called, because itisn't a seal at all--can be found. The fur seals on the Russian islandsare a different species. Those on the Japanese islands are differentfrom both."

  "You say a fur seal isn't a seal at all?" asked Colin. "What's thedifference?"

  "Not the same at all. Different, entirely. Don't even belong to the samegroup of animal. They look differently. Their habits are unlike. Oh,they're dissimilar in every way."

  "Just how?" asked Colin curiously.

  "In the first place, the sexes of the hair or common seal are the samesize, not like the fur seal, where the sea-catch is four or five timesbigger than the female. Then they don't breed in harems and the malehair seal does not stay on shore. A fur seal swims with his foreflippers, a true seal with his hind flippers. A fur seal stands uprighton his fore flippers, a hair seal lies supine. A fur seal has a neck, ahair seal has practically none. A fur seal naturally has fur, the hairseal has no undercoat whatever. A pup fur seal is black, a pup hair sealis white. Different? Obviously! Pity the old name 'sea bear' died out.It would have prevented confusion between fur seal and true seal."

  With this beginning, the agent passed into a detailed description of theanatomy of the two different kinds of seal, and wound up with an earnestpanegyric of his fur seal family. By the time the agent had completedhis earnest defense of the sea bear, lest it should be confused with themore common seal, the two had reached the killing-grounds, where thenatives were awaiting the agent's word to begin their work. He steppedup to the foreman of the gang and with him looked over the first 'pod'of about fifty that had been selected for killing, noting one or twothat looked either too young or too old or with fur in bad condition,and these points settled, he gave the word to begin.

  The 'pod' of seals was surrounded by eight men, each armed with a clubabout five and a half feet long, the thickness of a baseball bat at oneend and three inches in diameter at the other. Behind him, each of thenatives had laid his stabbing-knife, skinning-knife, and whetstone. Atthe word the killing began. Each native brought down his clubsimultaneously, the first blow invariably crushing the slight, thinbones of the fur seal's skull and stretching it out unconscious. The sixor seven seals that fell to each man's share were clubbed in less than aminute for the lot.

  The Aleuts then dropped their clubs and dragged out the stunned seals sothat no one of them touched another, and taking their stabbing-knives,drove them into the hearts of the seals between the fore flippers. In nocase did Colin see any evidence that the seal had felt a moment'ssuffering.

  "Now," said the agent, "watch this, if you like seeing skilful work.Skinning has got to be done rapidly. Precisely! Else the seal will'heat' and spoil the fur."

  Watching the native nearest to him, Colin noticed that he rolled theseal over, balancing it squarely on its back. Then he made half a dozensweeping strokes--all so expert and accurate that not a slip was madewith the knife, nor was any blubber left on the skin. In less than twominutes, by the watch, he had skinned the seal, leaving on the carcassnothing but a small patch of the upper lip where the stiff mustachegrows, the insignificant tail, and the coarse hide of the flippers.

  The whole sight was a good deal like butchery, and Colin felt a littleuncomfortable. Moreover, he was not hardened to the odor arising fromthe blubber of the seal. He beat a retreat.

  "I beg your pardon, Mr. Nagge," he called, holding his handkerchief tohis nose, "but that's too much for me."

  The agent turned and noticed his departure. He called back to the boy:

  "Do you see that low hill? To the right of that ruined hut?"

  "Yes," Colin responded.

  "Just below that are some sea-lions! Go and take a look at them. I'lljoin you as soon as we are through here. Won't be long. But you'll haveto stalk them to the leeward if you want to get close," he added,"they're shy. I'll meet you there and we'll go back to dinner. Youought to be hungry by then."

  "I will be, then," Colin responded cheerfully, adding under his breath,as he glanced back over his shoulder at the killing-grounds, "but I'mnot now!"

  A short walk through the long moss a-glitter with wild flowers, poppies,harebells, monkshood, and a host of sub-Arctic species, brought the ladto the top of the hill. There he paused a moment, to look over theisland, treeless save for dwarf willows six inches high and aground-dwelling form of crowberry. Below him, and some distance away,were the sea-lions, but even from that coign of vantage they looked sobig and menacing that Colin wondered whether they might not stalk him,instead of his stalking them.

  After a little scrambling, however, he found himself at the bottom ofthe cliff, and made his way as carefully as he could to the sea-lionrookery. But when he did come near and rounded a large boulder in orderto get a fair view, he was inclined to think that shyness was the lastidea he would have gained from the looks of sea-lions. Near him, almosterect on his fore flippers, was an old bull, a tremendous creature, wellover six feet in height and weighing not less than fifteen hundredpounds.

  Apart from size, he was a much more vicious-looking creature than thesea-catch; the tawny chest and grizzled mane gave him a true lion-likelook, and an upturned muzzle showed the sharp teeth glistening whiteagainst the almost black tongue, while a small wicked, bulldog eyeglittered at the intruder. The female sea-lion, near by, was almost aslarge as a six-year-old bull seal.

  Wanting to see something happen, and realizing from the build of thesea-lion that he could not make much progress on land, Colin threw astone at a pup sea-lion who was asleep on a rock close by.

  But the boy was utterly unprepared for the result, for no sooner did thehuge sea-lion realize his advance as he strode forward to throw thestone, than it was smitten with panic. When, moreover, it heard the'crack' of the pebble as it hit a rock behind him, the cowardly creaturewent wild with fear, and made convulsive and clumsy efforts to reach thewater ten feet away, tumbling down twice in doing so, and finallyplunging into the ocean trembling as though with ague. At the alarm,the entire rookery took flight, leaving the pups behind, sprawling onthe rocks. The parents ranged up in a line about fifty feet from shoreand remained at that safe distance as long as Colin was in sight. Hewatched the pups for a little while, but they were not nearly asinteresting as seals, and he was quite ready to go when his friendhailed him from the top of the hill.

  "Sea-lions look sort of human in the water, don't they?" remarked Colinas he rejoined his friend, and turned for a farewell glance at thecreatures with their upright heads and shoulders and inquisitive look.

  "The Aleuts say they are," his friend replied. "They declare theirancestors were sea-lions or seals. That's a general belief on the northcoast of Scotland and in the Hebrides, too."

  "That men came from seals?"

  "Certainly. What do you suppose started all the mermaid stories? Roundhead, soft tender eyes, and a fish's tail? Seals! Obviously! And, if younotice old pictures of mermaids the tail is drawn as if it were split intwo, just like the two long flippers of the seal."

  "I never thought of that before," said the boy.

  "You've heard of the Orforde merman, of course, haven't you?"

  Colin admitted his ignorance.

  "Queer yarn. Quite true, though," the agent said. "Documents show it. Ithappened off the coast of Suffolk, England. About the end of the twelfthcentury, I think. Some fishermen caught a creature which they describedas being like an old man with long gray hair, but which had a fish'stail. It could live out of the water just as well as in it. They broughtit to the Earl of Orforde. In spite of all their efforts they could notteach the merman to speak. Naturally! So the priest of the parishsuggested that perhaps the creature had something to do with the devil.Characteristic of the time! So they took the 'merman' to church. But itshowed no sign of adoration and didn't seem to understand theceremonies. So they were convinced that it was an evil thing, and put itto the torture,
hoping to extract a confession from--a seal!"

  "But there are mermaids!" said Colin. "I've seen 'em. Not alive, ofcourse, but stuffed."

  "So have I," the agent said, laughing; "that was a trick the Japaneseused and fooled a lot of people. Why, there was one in a museum inBoston for years! It was a fake, of course. Obviously!"

  "How did they do it?"

  "Head and shoulders of a newly-born monkey fastened to a fish's body. Iforget now what fish. Then with incredible pains, they laid rows uponrows of fish scales all over the monkey's shoulders and chest. Wonderfulwork. Each scale was glued on separately, beginning from scales almostmicroscopic and shading both in size and color exactly into those of thefish hinder portion. The work was so exquisitely done that itsartificiality could not be detected. But live mermaids haven't been putin any aquarium. Not yet!"

  "I don't suppose there's even a water-baby left!" the boy said,laughing.

  "No," was the reply. "We couldn't give it any milk now, the sea-cowshave been all killed off."

  "Sea-cows?"

  "Big creatures, bigger even than walruses. Lots of them here some time.We find their bones everywhere. Nearly all our sled-runners are made ofsea-cow bones. They grazed like cattle below water on the seaweeds ofthe shore and the natives used to spear them at low tide."

  CATCH OF HERRING ON BEACH AT GASTINEAU CHANNEL, ALASKA.

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

  "Are there walruses here, too?"

  "I saw three a few years ago, but none since. About two hundred milesnorth of here, however, on St. Matthew's Island, there used to be scoresof them. But I reckon hunters and polar bears, between them, havedestroyed most of them."

  "Do polar bears come here in winter?"

  The agent shook his head.

  "The Pribilof Islands are not cold enough for a polar bear. Besides helikes walrus meat better than seal. Bear eats a lot of fish, too."

  "I thought they lived almost entirely on seals."

  "They couldn't very well," was the reply. "Seal is a better swimmer thana bear, although the polar bear is a marvel in the water for a landanimal and can overhaul a walrus. The big white fellows only catch sealwhen basking on the ice. They get a good many that way. The hunters haveleft nothing to the Pribilofs except the fur seal and the sea-lion, andnot many of those. And unless we can find a way to stop theseal-pirates, those will soon be gone, too."

  "Do you have much trouble with that sort of thing?" the boy asked.

  "A lot nearly every year. We won't have so much of it now. GreatBritain, Japan, Russia, and the United States are united in the desireto prevent pelagic sealing. Good thing, too. A treaty has been signed,forbidding it for fifteen years. So you see, a seal poacher on therookeries finds everybody against him."

  "Wasn't there a lot of trouble some years ago?" Colin asked. "I heardthat there was real fighting here."

  "Indeed there was, and lots of it! No one, not even the United StatesGovernment, ever knew how much. While the islands were leased to aprivate company the beaches were patrolled by riflemen. Russian andJapanese schooners frequently sent off boatloads of armed men during afog, to kill as many seals as possible, protecting their men by gunfire.But that was before the Bureau of Fisheries took hold!"

  "Has there been any of that lately?"

  "Not recently. The last was in 1906, when seven men were killed. The twoschooners, the _Tokaw Maru_ and the _Bosco Maru_, were seized andconfiscated. Promptly! The men were taken to Valdez. They were convictedand sent to prison."

  "Well, that's desperate enough," the boy said, "but, after all, there'ssomething daring about it. It's the pelagic sealing that seems so meanto me."

  "It may be daring enough," the agent admitted. "The way I feel about it,though, is that it seems worse to kill a cow fur seal than a humanbeing. There are lots of people in the world. The human race isn't goingto die out, but the small remnant of fur seals on the Pribilof Islandsis absolutely the last chance left of saving the entire species fromextinction. So," he concluded with a laugh, as they went into thevillage, "don't let your enthusiasm for a piece of daring tempt you toturn seal-pirate."

  Colin laughed, as he nodded to his host, and went to see after one ofhis new pets, a blue fox pup which had been given him that morning byone of the natives.

  Evening seemed to come early because of the dense fog, the damp mistwhich had been present all day settling down heavily. Colin wasthoroughly tired, but not at all sleepy, and he wandered aimlesslythrough the village for a while after supper.

  "I wonder if there's a storm coming?" he said to the agent. "I have asort of feeling that something's going to happen."

  "It may blow a little fresh," was the reply. "That's all. The barometerdoesn't seem disturbed."

  "I must be wrong then," said Colin, suppressing a yawn, "but I have aqueer sort of excited feeling."

  "Better take it out in sleep," was the advice given him. "We're allgoing to turn in soon. Even if you did get a nap this afternoon, youought to be tired after last night."

  The boy could see nothing to be gained by arguing the point, and therewas nothing special to do, so he waited a few minutes and then went upto his room, though he had never felt less like sleeping. He got intobed, however, but tossed about uneasily for hours, the distant roaringof the seals on the rookery and other unaccustomed noises keeping himawake. And ever, through it all, Colin was conscious of thispresentiment of some trouble on hand. Suddenly, this feeling rushed overhim like a flood and, impelled by some force he could not resist, hesprang from bed and hurried to the window.

  The fog had thinned considerably, but it was still so misty that hecould only just see the edge of the bleak shore where the little wavesrolled in idly, looking gray and greasy under the fog. He leaned hisarms on the sill, but aside from the seal-roar, everything seemedpeaceful and the lad was just about to turn away from the window in thefeeling of miserable anger that comes from being tired but not able tosleep, when he saw a flash of light.

  Startled, and with every nerve stimulated to alertness, he watched, andagain he saw the light. Straining his eyes Colin could just distinguishthe figure of a man with a gun on his shoulder and a lantern in hishand, making his way to the coast end of the village.

  "Some one who has been making a night of it!" the boy muttered tohimself with a short laugh, and got back into bed.

  But the figure of the man with the gun and the lantern in his hand hadimpressed itself on his mind, and though he tried to dismiss the ideaand go to sleep, every time he closed his eyes he seemed to see the mango walking silently through the village. Presently he sat bolt uprightin bed.

  "The native huts are all at the other end of the village!" he said halfaloud, with a surprised suspiciousness. "Why was he going that way?"

  The boy rose and went back to the open window. It seemed to him thatthere was more tumult from the rookery than when he had listened half anhour before, but it occurred to him that this was probably the result ofthe silence of the hour and his own restlessness. Then, not loudly, butdistinctly, in spite of its being muffled by the fog, the sound of arifle-shot came to his ears.

  That settled it for Colin. If there was anything going on in the way ofsport he wanted a share in it, and as he was wide awake, he decided tofollow up and see what was going on. He slipped into his clothes asquickly as possible and tiptoed his way down the rickety stairs. Butbefore he had gone many steps an unaccustomed thought of prudence struckhim, and he walked back to a house three or four doors from where he hadbeen staying, the home, indeed, of the villager who had given him thepet fox, and in which Hank had taken up quarters. He knocked on thewindow and immediately Hank appeared.

  "What is it?" he queried. "Oh, it's you, Colin. Why aren't you in bed?"

  "I was," the boy answered, and in a few words he told how he had seenthe native go by with a gun and a lantern and had heard the shot fired afew minutes ago.

  "Sounds like smugglin'," the old whaler said, after a minute's thought."Well
, there's no great harm in that. That is, I don't think so, thoughthe gov'nment chaps might say different."

  "Smuggling?" queried Colin; "poaching. Do you mean seal-poaching? Oh,come along, Hank, and let's find out."

  "What's the use of huntin' trouble?" said the old man. "Go back to bed."

  "Not much," retorted the boy; "if you don't want to come, I'll go,anyway."

  "If you're goin' anyway," grumbled the old whaler, "I reckon it's no usemy sayin' anythin' to stop you. But I s'pose," he added, and he wassecretly as curious as the boy, "I'd better go along with you to seethat you don't get into any more mischief than you have to."

  "You're coming, then?" asked Colin impatiently.

  "I'll be right out," the other answered, and he had hardly disappearedfrom the window when he appeared at the door. He slipped a revolverinto his pocket and handed another to Colin.

  "I've got a gun," the boy said.

  "All right," responded Hank, "I'll pack this one along, too," and heslipped it into one of the pockets of his big reefer.

  They walked in silence for a few minutes until they had passed the endof the village, and then Hank put his hand on the boy's arm.

  "You've got a right hunch," he said abruptly, in a low voice. "There'ssomethin' in the wind."

  "What makes you think so?" asked Colin.

  The other pointed vaguely to sea.

  "There's a ship out there," he said.

  Colin did his utmost to pierce the gloom, but the fog had settled downagain, the night was dark, and the boy could scarcely see the wavesbreaking on the shore not twenty feet away.

  "I can't see anything," he said. "Whereabouts?"

  "I don't know just where," the old sailor replied, "but I know she'sthere. I feel it."

  "Let's hurry!" said the boy.

  "Better go slower," warned Hank, pulling him back gently; "we're not farfrom the rookery."

  "I don't see why we should be so careful, and I don't see why we shouldwhisper," Colin objected, whispering nevertheless; "the seals are makingnoise enough to drown a brass band."

  "Listen!" said Hank.

  The boy put his hand to his ear, trying to distinguish sounds in thecontinuous roar.

  "Voices?" he queried with a puzzled look.

  "I thought so," the whaler nodded. There was a pause, while bothlistened, then the gunner said:

  "It isn't English and it doesn't sound like Aleut or Russian."

  "Japanese?" queried the boy at a guess.

  The man grasped the boy's shoulder with a grip that nearly dislocatedit.

  "Japanese raiders!" he said. "Can you run?"

  "You bet," said Colin, growing excited; "I'm a crack runner."

  "Get back to the agent's house as fast as you know how an' wake him up.He'll know what to do."

  "What are you after, Hank?" asked the boy, tightening his belt.

  "Whatever comes along," was the terse reply.

  Colin pitched off his heavy coat and started. It was over a half-milerun, but the boy was in good condition and the path was smooth, so thattwo minutes saw him at the agent's bedroom door.

  "Eh? What's that? Japanese raiders! You've been dreaming, boy. Go backto bed."

  "Do I look as if I'd been dreaming?" Colin said indignantly. "How do yousuppose I could run myself out of breath in a dream? Hank was with me.He heard them, too, and sent me back to tell you."

  But the agent was already up and busy.

  "Wake the village!" he said shortly.

  Without waiting to find out how this should be done, Colin started offat a run, and picking up a killing club that lay handy, he sped down thevillage street, hitting a resounding 'whack' on every door as he passed.As he came back, up the other side of the street, the natives werestreaming out of their houses and Colin told them all to go to theagent, whereupon those who understood English started immediately, therest following. The agent was ready and had all his plans made, some ofthe men were sent to the boats, and arms for others were laid out.

  "They were right on Gorbatch rookery?" the agent asked.

  "Yes, sir," Colin replied, "at the Reef Point end."

  The party was swinging along at a fast half-run over the sands that laybetween the edge of the village and the beginning of the rookery, andwith the rising of the moon the fog seemed to thin.

  "I had rather we were a little nearer before it gets too light," theagent said, "but we'd better make the best use we can of our time."

  On reaching the wall, the agent vaulted lightly over it, the restfollowing suit, and to Colin's surprise the official led the way behindthe rookery, threading in and out between idle bulls, who made a displayof great ferocity but never actually attacked. The agent paid not theslightest heed to any of them, merely keeping out of reach of theirteeth.

  As they turned a corner, a cloud which had partly obscured the moonpassed and showed them an unexpected sight. Magnified into giganticforms by the fog were the figures of six men, apparently all armed,facing Hank, the old whaler, who, with both revolvers, was keeping themat bay. He was close to the shore, standing behind two old,wicked-looking beachmasters, who, in the unnatural light, appeared tobe twice their natural size. Hank let out a hail as soon as he saw thegovernment party coming to his assistance, but he did not relax hisvigilance.

  "I've got this bunch covered," he said, "an' they can't get to theirboat. One load did get off."

  Hearing his shout the invaders turned quickly, but found themselvesoverpowered, for a dozen rifles were leveled at them. They knew, too,that natives who are trained to shoot fur seal in the water--as most ofthose men had done before pelagic sealing was stopped--could be countedon as good shots.

  The agent, who spoke sufficient Japanese for simple needs, demanded thesurrender of the raiders and asked which was the officer of the party.This question they refused to understand.

  "I suppose he went off in the other boat," hazarded the agent. "That's apity. He stands a good chance of being shot!"

  Colin looked up inquiringly.

  "How do you expect to catch him now?" he asked.

  "The fog is clearing away. Obviously!" the agent answered.

  "Quite a lot," the boy admitted.

  A TYPICAL SEAL ROOKERY, HALF ABANDONED.

  Showing the massing of the harems, the watchful figures of thebeach-masters, and the idle bulls in the background.

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

  "Row-boat hasn't much chance against a launch, has it?"

  "Oh, I see now," Colin said understandingly; "you covered the water withanother party."

  "In a very swift gasoline launch we have. While you were waking thevillage, I got a wireless to a revenue cutter. I caught her at less thanfifteen miles away, and she's headed here now."

  He turned to the Japanese.

  "What is your ship? Schooner or steamer?" he asked.

  "Schooner," was the reply.

  The agent rubbed his hands delightedly.

  "It's a clean haul," he said. "Thanks to you, Hank. Principally. To theboy, too! We've caught six men red-handed right on the rookery, withdead seals, most of them females. The launch ought to intercept theboat. There's not wind enough for a schooner to get far away by the timethe revenue cutter arrives. Besides, the schooner will be short-handedsince we have six of the crew here."

  A sudden puff of wind lifted the fog still further and revealed theschooner herself, lying not far from shore. A row-boat was about onehundred and fifty feet from the vessel and the station launch was twohundred feet away, approaching from a different angle, but outspeedingthe row-boat.

  "A race!" cried Colin.

  It was a closer race than at first appeared. Under the strange light ofthe full moon shining grayly through the silvering mist upon the sealsin their countless thousands, the scene seemed most unreal. Before himappeared the principals in this dramatic encounter, revolvers and riflesin the hands of all parties, the Japs being still covered; while beyond,at sea, the two boats cleaving the water, their
objective point theshadowy schooner, looking like a phantom ship, made a picture of weirdexcitement in an unearthly setting. The seconds seemed like hours. Therow-boat was nearer the schooner and was traveling fast, but the launchwas speeding even more rapidly, throwing up a high wave at the bow. Itlooked as though both boats would reach the schooner's side at the sameinstant.

  "She'll do it! She'll do it!" the boy exclaimed. "If only an oar wouldsmash!"

  The Japanese, though not saying a word, were bending forward eagerly,watching the race with every nerve on the strain.

  Colin fairly danced with excitement, nearly bringing down on himself thewrath of a neighboring sea-catch, who was roaring angrily at thisintrusion.

  "If she only had another couple of horsepower----" he cried.

  The Japanese smiled.

  A port in the rail of the schooner opened and the muzzle of a smallswivel-gun projected, aimed full at the launch. Colin caught his breath.

  A puff of smoke followed, and a couple of seconds later the sharp crackof a small gun. A crash and a few sharp explosions were heard from thelaunch, but, so far as could be seen from the shore, no one was injured.The engine gave a 'chug-chug' or two--then stopped dead.

  Colin dropped his arms limply by his side in despair.

  The leader of the Japanese took a quick step forward and whispered aword or two to the nearest man, who passed it down the line. The agentstrained his ears to hear what was said, but could not distinguish thewords.

  "What's that you were saying?" he asked in Japanese.

  The man replied calmly, and in English.

  "We say nothing," he answered blandly, "only that you have made bigmistakes. That is not our ship!"

  The agent stared at him, but the Japanese smiled affably.

  "We are shipwreck on the island," he said. "We not know what place itis, have no food, hungry, kill some seal for food, anybody do that."

  At this impudent and barefaced falsehood, the agent was tongue-tied, buthe turned to Hank.

  "These men say," he said, "that they are shipwrecked sailors and do notbelong to that ship. Let's get this thing right. Tell us what you knowabout it."

  Hank straightened up.

  "After the boy left me," he said, "I saw it wouldn't do any good totackle 'em at once, there bein' no way of gettin' at 'em from the shoreside. If I let 'em know they were watched, they would be off, sure, an'what I wanted was to find some way to head 'em off. I knew if you camedown the beach after 'em they'd have the start, an' you can't alwaysdepend on shootin' straight at night in a fog."

  "What did you do, then?" asked the agent.

  "I just slipped into the water, down by the end o' the causeway," theold whaler said, "an' there were scores o' seals around, so that itdidn't matter how much I splashed."

  "You must be half a seal yourself," the agent said. "Swimming amongrocks in the dark is no joke."

  "I had plenty of time, and I can swim a little," the old man modestlyadmitted. "Wa'al, pretty soon I saw the boat an' I swam under water tillI came up right behind it. The Jap what was sittin' in it wasn'texpectin' any trouble an' as he was nid-noddin' and half asleep, I putone hand on the stern o' the boat, bringin' it down in the water. Withthe other hand I grabbed the back of a blouse-thing he was wearin' an'yanked him overboard."

  "You didn't drown him, did you, Hank?" asked Colin.

  "Not altogether," the old whaler answered. "I held him under, though,until he was good an' full o' water an' had stopped kickin', an' then Iclimbed into the boat. Next time he came up I grabbed him an' took himaboard. The fog was pretty thick an' none o' the rest of 'em saw whatwas goin' on. In a minute or two I could see he was beginnin' to comeround an' I didn't quite know what to do. I didn't want to knock him onthe head, he hadn't done anythin' to hurt me, an' so I dropped therow-locks overboard, tossed the oars ashore--there they are, lyin' amongthe seals--an' got ashore myself. As soon as I was on solid ground Iuntied the painter what held the boat an' set it adrift, givin' it apush off with one o' the oars. The tide's goin' out, so I knew hecouldn't get ashore again. I'd hardly got the boat shoved off when heyelled an' the rest of 'em heard it."

  "What did they do?"

  "Come rushin' for the boats. Most of 'em went over to the south'ard," hepointed down the rookery, "where there was a boat I hadn't seen, butthese six tried to rush me. I just had time to shove the boat off, grabmy guns, an' face 'em."

  "It was a bully hold-up," said Colin delightedly, "one against six."

  "Had to," said the sailor, "or the six would have made mincemeat o' theone. Besides, I had to give the tide a chance to get that boat out o'the way. After I held 'em a few minutes I knew it was all right, becausethey had no boat, their own bein' adrift without oars."

  "Big lie," said the Japanese leader placidly, "we shipwreck sailors,nothing to do with that ship at all. This man tell story about boat--wenot know anything of that boat. Our boat sunk on rocks, away overthere!"

  He pointed to the other side of the island.

  "But you were killing seals!" protested the agent.

  "Yes," said the Japanese, "we think islands have not any person on. Needfood, we kill. Of course."

  "Clever," said the agent, turning to Hank. "This isn't as simple as itlooks. We have no direct evidence that these men belonged to thatschooner."

  "But we know they did!" said the whaler emphatically.

  "Of course," agreed the agent. "But we can't prove it. Law demandsproof. If we only had that boat, with the schooner's name on, it wouldserve."

  Suddenly there came a hail from the crippled launch which was beingbrought in under oars.

  "Mr. Nagge there?"

  "Yes, Svenson," was the reply, "what is it?"

  "They smashed our engine all to bits," answered the engineer of theboat, "but we've just picked up another boat, empty."

  "That's the boat," said the agent with satisfaction in his voice. "Nowwe've got them!"

  A smile, a very faint smile, crossed the features of the Japaneseleader.

  "What's the name on the stern of the boat?" the agent called.

  There was a moment's pause, then came the answer in tones of deepdisgust:

  "The name's been painted out!"

  The agent looked round despairingly and caught Colin's look of sympathy.

  "The slippery Oriental again!" the boy said.

  "Not quite slippery enough this time, though," said Hank in a voicewhich betrayed a discovery.

  "What do you mean?" asked the agent.

  "Uncle Sam's gettin' into the game," he answered, pointing out to sea.

  "The revenue cutter?"

  "Hm, hm," grunted the whaler in assent, "I reckon I can see her lights."

  No one else could see anything in the fog and darkness, but a minute ortwo later there came a flash, followed by a dull "boom."

  Hank turned to the Japanese leader.

  "Pity to spoil that yarn o' yours," he said, "but your ship can't runaway from quick-firin' guns without a wind."