Meantime, what had happened in the outer world during all these months? What had been the feelings of Mr. Hazlett on that day in early spring as, hour after hour, he walked Kadiak dock and peered into the fog in vain, waiting for the boat which did not appear? And what of his feelings as all that day and night passed, and yet another, with no answer to his half-frenzied search of the shores close to the town, of the decks of the still lingering steamer, and of the surroundings of the Mission School across the strait? None could answer his questions, and no guess could be formed as to the missing dory and its crew, until at last there were discovered the two natives who had rowed the dory away from the Nora. These told how the boat had disappeared while they were absent. They had thought that the boys had made their way back to town. Now, “Blown out to sea!” How many a story has been written in that phrase! How could this anxious watcher face the parents of those boys and tell them news such as this? At least for a time he was spared this, for no boat would go back to Valdez within a month, and those who awaited news were Alaska mothers and knew the delays of the frontier. None the less, Mr. Hazlett had borne in upon him all the time the feeling that he himself had been responsible for this disaster. Even as he set to work to organize search-parties he felt despair. The natives, not clear as to the instructions given them, had supposed that they were to go in search of the revenue-cutter Bennington; yet as a matter of fact that vessel was moored on the western instead of the eastern side of the island at the time, whereas it seemed sure that the dory with the missing boys must have been carried along the east coast of the island, and not through the straits to the westward. Mr. Hazlett knew well enough the strength of Duty now required that Mr. Hazlett should report on board the Bennington; so, after a few days spent in fruitless searching within reach of Kadiak town, he took the pilot-boat and hastened over to the west side of the island where the Bennington lay at anchor, with her boat crews engaged in the tedious work of making coast soundings. Mr. Hazlett laid before Captain Stephens the full story of the mysterious loss of his young charges. The face of the old naval officer grew grave, and for some moments he turned away “Call in the boat crews, sir!” he commanded. “We move station within the hour!” “Then you mean that you are going to help search for them?” asked Mr. Hazlett. “With all my heart, sir!” said the rough commander. “I have boys of my own back in New England. We’ll comb this island rock by rock, and if we suspect foul play we’ll blow every native village off the face of it!” The hoarse roar of the Bennington’s deep-throated signal-whistles echoed along the rock-bound shore. Within an hour her boats were all stowed, and with each man at his quarters the trim cutter passed slowly down the west coast of the island. “I’m not supposed to be a relief expedition,” muttered Captain Stephens, “and I s’pose we’ll all lose our jobs with Uncle Sam; but until we do, I figure that Uncle Sam can better afford to lose three months’ time of this ship’s crew than it can three bright boys who may grow up to be good sailors sometime. “We’ll skirt the island in the opposite direction from that in which the youngsters probably went,” said he, turning to Mr. Hazlett. “We’ll “You talk as though you hoped to find them,” said Mr. Hazlett, catching a gleam of courage from the other’s resolute speech. “Find ’em?” said Captain Stephens. “Of course we’ll find ’em; we’ve got to find ’em!” |