176 A YEAR WITH A WHALER 



learned whether he ever managed somehow to 

 get back home or left his bones to bleach upon 

 the frozen tundra. 



From Port Clarence, we headed back to Un- 

 alaska to ship our whale bone to San Francisco 

 by steamer. Midway of our run down the 

 Behring Sea a thick fog closed about us and we 

 kept our fog horn booming. Soon, off our 

 bows, we heard another fog horn. It seemed to 

 be coming closer. Our cooper, an old navy bug- 

 ler, became suspicious. He got out his old 

 bugle and sounded " assembly " sharply. As 

 the first note struck into the mist, the other fog 

 horn ceased its blowing. We did not hear it 

 again. When the mist lifted, no vessel was in 

 sight, but the situation was clear. We had 

 chanced upon a poaching sealer and when she 

 heard our cooper's bugle, she concluded we were 

 a revenue cutter and took to her heels. 



A day or two later, we saw the revenue cutter 

 Corwin chasing a poacher. Heeled over under 

 crowded sail, the sealing schooner was scurrying 

 before a stiff wind. The Corwin was plowing 

 in hot pursuit, smoke pouring from her funnel 



