To Chirikoff's amazement, the
second crew made no signal. The night passed uneasily. Sailors were on
the watch. Ship's rigging was put in shape. Dawn was witnessed {49} by
eager eyes gazing shoreward. The relief was inexpressible when two
boats--a long and a short one like those used by the two crews--were seen
rounding the elbow of land. The landward breeze was now straining the
_St. Paul's_ hawsers. Glad to put for open sea to weather the coming
gale, Chirikoff ordered all hands on deck and anchors up. The small
boats came on with a bounce over the ocean swell; but suddenly one of
Chirikoff's Russians pointed to the approaching crafts. There was a
pause in the rattle of anchor chains. There was a pause in the bouncing
of the small boats, too. They were _not_ the Russian jolly-boats. They
were canoes; and the canoes were filled with savages as dumb with
astonishment at the apparition of the _St. Paul_ as the Russians were at
the canoes. Before the Russians had come to their senses, or Chirikoff
had time to display presents to allure the savages on board as hostages,
the Indians rose in their places, uttered a war-whoop that set the rocks
echoing, and beating their paddles on the gun'els, scudded for shore.
Pages:
57
58
59
60
61
62
63
64
65
66
67
68
69
70
71
72
73
74
75
76
77
78
79
80
81