534 
FOREST AND STREAM. 
[Oct. 3, 1908. 
J 
MAKING READY FOR THE HUNT. 
From a photograph by Samuel W. Lippincott. 
catch, Jack looked for the schooner which was 
not then in sight. It was long after they had 
lunched, possibly 3 130, and they noticed the wind 
was increasing and the weather growing colder. 
Twenty minutes later the thud of the schooner’s 
gun could be faintly heard, seeming miles away 
and from the south. Now Jack knew it should 
or ought to be north of them. He knew also it 
was a trick the wind could play in carrying that 
signal. So he steered north by east, the leg-o’- 
mutton sail was spread, and the boat made good 
time until the wind increased to such an extent 
that it was necessary to take in the sail and re¬ 
sort to the oars. With the high wind the seas 
piled up. As near as Jack figured it, when dark¬ 
ness came he should have been somewhere near 
the schooner. At this time the three men could 
hear the signal occasionally. 
The wind increased to a gale, accompanied 
by snow—hard, dry, flinty flakes or pellets—that 
stung and cut the face. Now, if the schooner 
threw rockets they could not see them unless 
she was fairly close aboard. There were two 
things to do—keep the boat head to the wind 
or run before it. They chose the latter. Plenty 
of water came aboard, necessitating bailing al¬ 
most continuously. The three men, fully re¬ 
alizing they were working for their lives and 
the chances against them, were cheerful, deter¬ 
mined, vigilant. Fanning held the tiller all night. 
To allow one of the men to steer would have 
necessitated a change in places, an extremely 
dangerous thing to undertake. Thus through 
that night of wind, sea, driving snow and hitter 
cold, Fanning literally held the lives of all in 
his hands, always cheerful, encouraging his men 
ca'mV and without the least trace of excite¬ 
ment. 
Morning broke on a tumbling sea and falling- 
snow that was hurled through the air by the 
gale. All through that dreary day they listened 
for the signal gun, being quite sure the schooner, 
having been driven before the wind as they 
were, should be somewhere in the vicinity. Jack 
realized, though, that the gun could not be heard 
in that gale unless it was to the windward. For¬ 
tunately they had one day’s ration of sea biscuit 
and corned beef left and enough water to last 
possibly twenty-four hours. The chief danger 
was the very possible capsizing of the boat. This 
had to be watched for every minute and was 
only prevented by skillful handling and bailing. 
About noon the snow ceased and the wind 
hauled around to the southwest, diminishing in 
force. It grew somewhat warmer as night 
closed in, but a high sea was still running. All 
night the three kept vigilant watch for a light 
in the heavens that meant a rocket and listened 
intently for the signal gun, only to be dis¬ 
appointed as the hours crept on. The morning 
broke, disclosing gray, haggard faces. The sea 
had gone down some, and as the snow had 
ceased, a view of the sea was obtained. Only 
one vast world of tumbling waters. All day and 
never a sight or sound from the schooner. For 
the first time Jack says he felt they would not 
see the schooner or any other vessel again, there 
being so very few ships having business in that 
part of the world. Then his mind turned to 
making land somewhere. 
It grew much warmer during the night. Fan¬ 
ning encouraged his men, saying that in the 
morning they would make a course for land if 
the sea went down. It did go down enough to 
give the two boatmen by turns a little sleep be- 
fo.e morning. 
An hour after daylight a fog swept over the 
water. It was about 1 P. M. when, from the 
west, came a dull sound like a sob. Eagerly, 
intently the men turned their faces toward the 
west. At intervals they heard it and knew it 
was the schooner’s gun and that she was to the 
windward. Jack put the boat’s head that way, 
the oars were manned, the sail assisting. At 
longer intervals they heard the sound, some 
times far away and again seemingly near, finally 
ceasing. Anxiously they listened as the hours 
dragged on. The sea was going down and the 
boat was making better time. The men ceased 
rowing to save strength, the sail being depended 
on. Suddenly they saw a dull red flash against 
the thinning fog bank followed by the roar-of 
the schooner’s six-pounder close aboard. “The 
schooner’s gun,” shouted the men. “hire that 
four-bore. Let loose all th6 guns,” said Jack. 
A half minute more and again there came a 
flash and a roar, this time nearer. Again and 
again the gun was fired, answered by the boat’s 
guns, then there was a shape in the fog mass. 
“Schooner ahoy!” shouted Fanning. 
“Who is it? What boat is that?” 
“It is Fanning.” 
“That you, Fanning?” came from the schooner, 
now quite plainly seen a-starboard. 
“Yes, it is Fanning. All hands safe.” 
“Thank God,” said the captain. 
Jack’s boat was soon hoisted aboard. The men 
gathered around with joyful yet sober faces, con¬ 
gratulating Fanning and his men. It was re¬ 
markable that Fanning’s boat had been steered 
so direct to the schooner as it was. Had the 
gun ceased firing for half an hour and the fog 
remained, Jack’s boat would have crossed astern 
of the schooner. The first gun they had heard 
so close aboard was the first fired in an hour 
or more and to be followed by signals eight 
to ten minutes apara all night, the captain say¬ 
ing, “We will not give them up until hope is dead.” 
Fanning said, “Something gave away about my 
heart, and a feeling of thankfulness came over 
me that I had never previously experienced 
when I realized that I was on the schooner’s 
deck and my brave, patient companions were 
safe.” 
One boat’s crew never came back. They were 
never heard from; they must have perished. 
1 his cast a gloom on all. For some days the 
schooner cruised and signalled,’> hoping to pick 
up this boat, but finally gave up all hope. Fan¬ 
ning sat in the stern of his boat almost sixty 
hours, and through his discipline and by his cour¬ 
age, coolness, example and cheerfulness gave 
them confidence. Neither were they lacking in 
those attributes that call for coolness and cour¬ 
age in hours of danger, exposure and peril. It 
was all this and more in the makeup of these 
men that eventually brought them to the schoon¬ 
er’s side. 
In February, 1893, Mr. Fanning started on his 
last seal shooting voyage. The season’s catch, 
and a good one, was aboard the schooner and 
she was headed for the home port, San Fran¬ 
cisco, when she was caught in a big snow storm, 
driven off her course and wrecked on the small 
island of T arako, one of a group extending 
southwest from the peninsula of Kamtschatka, 
Siberia. It was about 4 A. M. that the schooner 
went on the rocks at flood tide. When daylight 
came the tide had fallen, leaving her high and 
dry, and all the water in the hold had run out. 
Taking advantage of this, all worked with great 
expedition and removed everything of value in¬ 
cluding the schooner’s canvas to a place of 
safety on high ground. They were on this 
island seven days, when they were discovered by 
a Japanese fishing vessel. They learned there 
was a cable station on a small island forty-five 
miles away. This the captain and four men 
reached, sailing in an open boat. From there a 
cablegram was sent for a steamer to come and 
get the shipwrecked men. In due time it arrived 
and the crew with all their belongings, valuable 
furs, guns, etc., were safely landed at Yoko¬ 
hama. Dick Swiveller. 
