“Why not go with me?” suggested Serge, at the end of his meditation on Phil’s situation. “The Seamew sails for Alaska this very evening.”

“For what part of Alaska—for Sitka?” demanded Phil, eagerly.

“Not exactly,” admitted Serge; “but in that direction. She is bound on a fishing cruise to the cod and halibut banks off the Shumagin Islands; but there are always vessels running from there into Sitka, and Captain Duff has promised to set me on board the very first one of these he runs across.”

“My! but that is a scheme!” exclaimed Phil, who, having no conception of Alaskan distances nor the slightest idea of where the Shumagin Islands might be, imagined that, once in those waters, it would be an easy matter to reach Sitka. In fact, to him Sitka meant Alaska, and Alaska was the same as Sitka, for he could not remember ever having heard the one spoken of except in connection with the other.

“That would suit me to a T,” he continued, “for I have hated the thought of giving up my Alaska trip, and I have hated worse the idea of spending two or three weeks in this place with nothing to do. Do you suppose that your captain would make the same arrangement with me that he has with you? My father would be glad enough to pay him my passage-money if he would only drop me at Sitka.”

“I don’t believe the Seamew is allowed to take passengers,” answered Serge, doubtfully. “I am one of her crew, you know, only I am working without wages for the sake of getting home.”

“No wages! Don’t you get anything at all?”

“Oh yes! I get my passage and food, and I got an outfit of clothing to start with.”

“Well, I should be glad enough to get a passage to Alaska on the same terms, and if your captain will only take me, I’ll ship with him in a minute. But look here, old man, if you don’t get any wages, how do you happen to have money to spend on breakfasts at expensive restaurants for your pauper friends?”

“I haven’t,” laughed Serge.

“Do you mean to tell me that you squandered your last cent on me this morning?”

“I don’t mean to tell you anything about it.”

“Well, if that doesn’t make me feel meaner than dirt! If I had known you were spending your only dollar for my breakfast I wouldn’t have eaten a mouthful.”

“And so you would have made me very unhappy, instead of giving me one of the greatest pleasures of my life,” returned Serge, reproachfully.

“All I can say, then, is that you are easily pleased. And that was the reason why you wouldn’t eat anything, was it? Why, you must be almost as starved by this time as I was then, for even I am hungry again. Now, you just come down-stairs and take lunch with me in the hotel dining-room. After that we will visit the Seamew, and offer my valuable services to your Captain Duff.”

Never in all his life had Serge Belcofsky eaten so sumptuous a meal as that set before him by the young pauper, who, with the air of a prince, played the host on this memorable occasion. Knowing the pecuniary circumstances of his entertainer as he did, Serge could not but admire, while he marvelled at, the nonchalant air with which course after course was ordered, while he was urged to partake of this thing and that, until the resources of the Driard’s larder were wellnigh exhausted.

After thus fortifying themselves for their anticipated interview with Captain Duff, whom Serge had not described as being a particularly affable man, nor one whom it was a joy to meet, the lads strolled down to the cove in which the saucy-looking schooner Seamew lay at anchor. When they finally got on board, Serge left Phil on deck, while he ventured alone into the cabin to make an application on his behalf.

For the space of a minute Phil heard through the open cabin skylight only the tones of an ordinary conversation, the words of which were undistinguishable. Then, all at once, came a thunderous roar of: “No, I tell ye! No! I’ll have no more landlubbers aboard this craft at any price. So clear out and let me hear no more of it.”

The next instant Serge, cap in hand, appeared abruptly at the opening of the companion-way almost as though he had been fired from it. He was closely followed by a big red-faced man with a stubby beard, who, the moment he set foot on deck, gave utterance to a snarl like that of a wild beast. Suddenly, as his eye lighted on Phil, he stood for a moment like one petrified. Then in a tone so soft and bland that Phil instinctively glanced around to see who was speaking, he addressed Serge and asked,

“Is this young sport the friend you was speaking of what ’ud like to ship for a cruise to the nor’ard?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Serge; “this is my friend Phil Ryder, who is so anxious to get to Sitka that he is willing to ship for a voyage to the Shumagins without wages if you will furnish him with an outfit, and agree to set him aboard the same vessel bound for Sitka that you do me.”

“Will he sign to them terms on a shipping-paper?”

“I think so, sir. Won’t you, Phil?”

“Certainly. I will sign any paper that is required.”

Looking this new candidate over from head to foot, and still speaking in the blandest of tones, Captain Duff propounded the following questions:

“Be you a sailor?”

“I can handle a small boat.”

“Humph! Do you know the dog-star from the cat-star?”

“No, sir.”

“Nuther do I. Do you know a bull’s-eye when you see one?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Didn’t ye plunk one yesterday five times out of six shots?”

“I believe I did, sir,” replied Phil, greatly surprised at this turn in his examination.

“Could ye do it again?”

“I generally make six bull’s-eyes in six shots at that distance with my own rifle,” was the reply, not delivered at all boastingly, but as a simple statement of facts.

“So you’ve got a rifle of your own, eh?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ever get seasick?”

“No, sir.”

“Can ye be ready to start in an hour’s time?”

“I shall be ready as soon as I get an outfit,” answered Phil.

“Very good; let’s go ashore and get it at once. Hold hard, though! There’s the paper to be signed first.”

So Captain Duff re-entered the cabin, where with labored penmanship he added an article to one of the ship’s papers, which Phil signed without reading it. His signature was witnessed by Jalap Coombs, mate of the Seamew, and by Serge Belcofsky.

“You understand that this is a fishing v’y’ge?” demanded Captain Duff, at the conclusion of this ceremony.

“I understand very little about it, sir,” responded Phil. “I only understand that for me it will end at Sitka, and I am willing to undertake whatever may be necessary in order to reach that place.”

“Humph!” growled Captain Duff. Then in a voice that sounded like the roar of a bull he bellowed out: “On deck there! Lively, now, and have a boat alongside!”

So promptly was he obeyed that by the time the occupants of the cabin regained the deck a light whale-boat, sharp-pointed at both ends, and containing three oarsmen, of whom Serge was one, awaited them.

Motioning Phil to enter this craft, Captain Duff ponderously followed, and standing in the stern, with one brawny hand grasping a long steering oar, he ordered the crew to give way.

A few sturdy strokes shot the boat across to the landing, where the captain ordered two of the men to await his return, and gave the lads to understand that they were to follow him.

He led them to a sailors’ slop-shop, where in a very few minutes he had provided the latest addition to his crew with a heavy suit of duffle cloth, a pea-jacket, two flannel shirts, a pair of rubber hip-boots, another pair of stout cow-hide, a woollen toque, or sailor’s nightcap, a long oil-skin coat, and a hat of similar material.

“There!” growled Captain Duff, viewing these things as they lay piled on the counter. “I call that an outfit such as mighty few shipmasters would pervide for a landlubber. But when I undertakes to do a thing, I does it. D’ye hear?”

Both lads agreed that they did hear. In fact, they would have been very deaf indeed not to have heard. Phil expressed himself as gratified for so complete a supply of everything that seemed needful.

“So ye should be, ye young vil—I mean so ye should be!” roared Captain Duff. “Now give us a bag, ye swab, and make out your thundering bill, for I’m in a hurry. D’ye hear?”

This last was addressed to the shopman, who thereupon produced a heavy canvas bag of the kind known as a “sea-trunk,” into which the two lads stowed all the recent purchases.

When the bill for these was presented, Captain Duff growled over each separate item, and after he had paid it, he said to Phil: “There, young fellow, I’ve invested fifty dollars in you, and you’re bound to work it out afore your account is all squared. D’ye hear?”

“You are very good, I am sure,” murmured the lad, not knowing what else to say.

“What! Me good! Who dares say I’m not good?” roared the captain, glaring about him with a ferocious expression.

As no one replied to this outburst, he ordered the lads to carry the recent purchases down to the boat, and get back to the schooner with all speed.

“I must go to my hotel first to transact some business,” suggested Phil.

“Go to a hotel? What business have you with a hotel? I thought you said you’d be ready as soon as ye had an outfit?”

“I have some things there which I desire to see to,” began Phil.

“Yes, I know. Rifles and things. Well, hurry up; and mind ye, if you’re not back inside of an hour, I’ll have ye arrested as a desarter.”

“I shall evidently get pretty well used to being arrested if I stay in this town long,” thought Phil, as he hurried away.

In his room at the hotel he wrote three notes, two of which were to his father. They were both the same, and in them he stated that he was about to start for Sitka in the fishing schooner Seamew, and hoped to reach there before his father received this letter. In case he should be unexpectedly delayed for a few days, his father need feel no anxiety on his account, for he would surely turn up sooner or later. One of these he put in his pocket to mail for Sitka, while, with a forethought unusual in one generally so careless, the other was to be left at the hotel in case his father should come to Victoria in search of him.

The third note was addressed to the proprietor of the hotel. In it Phil regretted his inability to pay his bill for two days’ board and lodging, but stated that it would be settled as soon as he could rejoin his father, whom he expected to see in a very short time. In the mean time he left a rifle, an overcoat, and a bag worth many times its amount as security. This note, together with one of those to his father, he left on the table. Then taking a few small articles from his bag, he left the hotel and hastened to the landing-place. There he found a boat awaiting him. A few minutes later he had bidden farewell to the city in which his short stay had proved so fruitful in strange experiences, and again stood on the deck of the craft in which the second portion of his eventful journey was to be undertaken.