White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1933-06-08
CHAPTER 1

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It was lonely land by lonely sea,
but Eric loved them both. One was
his father-this great Alaskan country
stretching one ninth of the way around
the woodland the old gray ocean,
wearing billowing cloak of mist, was
surely his mother. The Sea has had
many husbands-Phoenicia last night,
Venice in the dawn, England and Hol-
land and the little Yankee land in
mid-morning, and to each she has
has taken younger, holder lover In
the North, and this wind-tanned youth
on the Bradford cannery dock was a
child of that mating.
His full name was Eric Ericsson. It
was typical of the new species-it
could as well have been Kris hansen,
or Nils Larsen, or Storker Storkersen.
Like the other founders of the clan,
his parents had come from Norway's
windy coast first to dig for gold in
Alaskan gravels, then more to their
liking, to fish for halibut and salmon
In the fiords of the Northwest. But
neither Eric nor his clansmen were
Norwegians Born on Alaskan soil,
they were the product of new en-
vironment-new ways, waters, men.
and minds.
AS the son Of a ship captain, of
course he had had good schooling. At
the close of his second year at the
University of Alaska at Fairbanks, he
had gone abroad to specialize In
geography, ethnology, and economics
lin the forec'stle of tramp steamer.
Now still under thirty, he had papers
emitting him to sail as master on any
ship, of any tonnage, anywhere on the
seven seas.
AS he sat on the dock at Squaw
Harbor any old Alaskan could tell his
breed. Both his ancient mother and
his young father had put their mark
upon him. He was tall and lean, 1.-THE
and loose-jointed, by the Alaskan pat
tern; and he walked like a sourdough
rather than sailor, with spring Of
his toes, lightly, swiftly, and tirelessly
He sat alone, ignoring the motley
crowd on the dock. He had little in
common with Siwash sinners or Fill
pino messboys; even less with Sando-
mars gang. There were ten of these
men, all recently fired from the can
merry force, and, like Eric himself, they
were idly watching sleek yacht,
stranger to these waters, glide into
the harbor.
In Eric's heart dwelt a strange love-
deep and wide, for most all craft on
all seas, but an amused half-smile
flickered across his lips as he surveyed
the stylish visitor. Obviously she was
built for luxurious cruising, not to
rough 1t in these half-charted north.
ern waters. In venturing here she was
surely living up to her name, the In
trepid.
The elderly captain locked her
handily, and the gang-plank was run
out. To Eric's amazement, the greater
part of the crew Immediately walked
off. Not only the kit-bags in their
hands but the gray, grim look on their
faces told plainly that they were done
with the Intrepid for the rest of their
seafaring lives.
Eric spoke to the first officer, a
stalwart Yankee type that he knew
and respected. Looks like she's 60
ing to be short-handed the rest of her
cruise"
"There's six left, out of eighteen"
the man answered angrily. "Our times
up, but he won't hit for home. Now
he can cool his heels here, or else run
the whole ship himself-as he's wanted
to from the first We're going to go
out on the Catherine D."
"Who do you mean by he? The
skipper?"
THE old mans all right. l mean
Horton, the millionaire who owns her.
He's not yachtsman. but he won't
stay In the saloon. Always coming
between his skipper and the crew. He
has no respect for an officer, much less
a sailor-he treats 'em all like 1unkies.
Our fellows are Americans - they
won't put up with that Besides he
expects the impossible. All his life
he's got what he wanted. bought 1t
with his checkbook. and he can't see
why we can't supply the weather and
the tides he demands. Tell him he
can't go some place. and that's where
he's going to start for"
The officer swore, throatily and EN-,
phatically and marched off. A burly
middle-aged man In smart yachting
cap-no doubt Horton himself-now
disembarked. With him was an ath.
letic man of thirty. with lean, schol
arly face, thin lips, and icy gray eyes
Catching sight Of Eric, Horton sig.
nailed him up with an imperious ges.
ture.
whats your manner"
Erics sparkling blue eyes turned
hard gray. ~ am Mr.. Ericsson"
"Do you want a job7 need some
men, to replace those proud devils who
s...k ~,,cy1~od ~ What oov vo,1 dn ar