The cruiser steamed a little nearer and lowered a boat.  The sealers watched in heartbroken silence.  They could see the white bulk of the boat as it was slacked away to the water, and its crew sliding aboard.  They could hear the creaking of the davits and the commands of the officers.  Then the boat sprang away under the impulse of the oars, and came toward them.  The wind had been rising, and already the sea was too rough to permit the frail craft to lie alongside the tossing schooner; but watching their chance, and taking advantage of the boarding ropes thrown to them, an officer and a couple of men clambered aboard.  The boat then sheered off into safety and lay to its oars, a young midshipman, sitting in the stern and holding the yoke-lines, in charge.

The officer, whose uniform disclosed his rank as that of second lieutenant in the Russian navy went below with the captain of the Mary Thomas to look at the ship’s papers.  A few minutes later he emerged, and upon his sailors removing the hatch-covers, passed down into the hold with a lantern to inspect the salt piles.  It was a goodly heap which confronted him—­fifteen hundred fresh skins, the season’s catch; and under the circumstances he could have had but one conclusion.

“I am very sorry,” he said, in broken English to the sealing captain, when he again came on deck, “but it is my duty, in the name of the tsar, to seize your vessel as a poacher caught with fresh skins in the closed sea.  The penalty, as you may know, is confiscation and imprisonment.”

The captain of the Mary Thomas shrugged his shoulders in seeming indifference, and turned away.  Although they may restrain all outward show, strong men, under unmerited misfortune, are sometimes very close to tears.  Just then the vision of his little California home, and of the wife and two yellow-haired boys, was strong upon him, and there was a strange, choking sensation in his throat, which made him afraid that if he attempted to speak he would sob instead.

And also there was upon him the duty he owed his men.  No weakness before them, for he must be a tower of strength to sustain them in misfortune.  He had already explained to the second lieutenant, and knew the hopelessness of the situation.  As the sea-lawyer had said, the evidence was all against him.  So he turned aft, and fell to pacing up and down the poop of the vessel over which he was no longer commander.

The Russian officer now took temporary charge.  He ordered more of his men aboard, and had all the canvas clewed up and furled snugly away.  While this was being done, the boat plied back and forth between the two vessels, passing a heavy hawser, which was made fast to the great towing-bitts on the schooner’s forecastle-head.  During all this work the sealers stood about in sullen groups.  It was madness to think of resisting, with the guns of a man-of-war not a biscuit-toss away; but they refused to lend a hand, preferring instead to maintain a gloomy silence.