The merry month of May had hardly begun when the brave _Valhalla_ steamed
away on her perilous cruise to the far and icy north.
Frank, with his two little cousins, had begged leave to go to Hull in
order to see the very, very last of the beautiful ship and that best of
uncles, Captain Staysail. Leave had been given by their parents, because
"Wherever Frank is," said Mr. Dunlop, "the children are sure to be safe."
There had been a good deal of stir and bustle on the very last evening,
and many visitors had been to the _Valhalla_, for somehow word had gone
out that Professor Peterkin, the great Swedish traveller, was off to find
the North Pole!
And all believed that he would find it. Some of the sailors even went so
far as to say that he would bring it back with him rigged up as a mast of
his ship!
But by the time eight bells had rung out all was quiet. The hands had
turned in, and only Tom and two men were left on watch.
"Go forward," said Tom, "and have a cup of coffee and a smoke, and I'll
see to the safety of the ship here at the gangway."
The men took the young officer at his word, and it was not very long ere
their smoke was finished, and they, too, were fast asleep. Had any other
eyes than Tom's been watching the shore, about half an hour afterwards,
they must have noticed that something very strange was taking place.
Dark figures could be seen drawing near with stealthy footsteps to the
farther end of the gangway. Then they stopped as if in fear and dread.
But Tom whistled a long, low whistle, and three figures, muffled in
oil-skins, stole along the gangway and stepped silently on deck.
Then Tom sprang a small bull's-eye lantern, and let its light shine right
in front of him, so that no one meeting him could have told who or what
was stealing up behind. In the same quiet way he led the little party
down a ladder to the deck below, and then beneath hammocks filled with
sleeping sailors, and along a passage, until he came to a door, which he
carefully unlocked, and soon afterwards locked again.
[Illustration]
* * * * *
By midnight next night the _Valhalla_ was far out at sea, bearing to the
north, for Captain Staysail did not mean to touch at any of the English
or Scotch ports on this voyage.
The weather at first was very beautiful, and so it remained, with a calm
sea and hardly a breath of wind, until nearly sunset of the second day.
Then clouds began to bank up, dark and threatening, and the glass--so
Webb, the first mate, reported to the captain--was going tumbling down.
"We are going to have a blow, sir," he said, "and it's coming up sharp
behind us. I reckon, sir, we'll have a ten-knotter afore the middle watch
is called!"
"Well, then, have the fires banked, Mr. Webb, as soon as the wind is
strong enough to get way on her. I wouldn't set too much sail, and if it
does come a gale, I'd ease her right away. You know what she can do,
Mate."
"Ay, ay, sir!"
"Well, I think that's all."
But the mate didn't move.
"Anything else, Mr. Webb?"
"There is something else, sir," said the mate rather sheepishly.
"Well, out with it. Why, you look as if you'd seen a ghost!"
"Well, sir, there is a ghost, or demon, or something aboard of this very
ship, and some of the crew are in a state next door to mutiny about it."
"What on earth do you mean, Mr. Webb?"
The tall, handsome, fair-haired Webb leaned over the table and spoke to
Staysail almost in a whisper.
"It's the little professor they all blame, sir; and there are four of
them who swear the ship is haunted--that he keeps evil spirits under lock
and key for'ard--"
"But--but--Mr. Webb--Evil spirits under lock and key! Do you mean bad
rum? And who is he?"
"Hush, sir! don't talk so loud. He's walking the deck now. It's the
professor I mean, sir. As to the evil spirits, I've heard them
myself--mutter, mutter, squeak, squeak, squeak! Ugh! it is awful,
sir--awful!"
And the mate shuddered as he spoke.
Now, Staysail was always a good laugher, but at this tale he fairly
yelled with laughter until everything jingled in the cabin, and the tears
ran down his cheeks.
The mate never moved a muscle.
"That awful fore-cabin, sir!" he said. "It's in there, and Broomberg, the
Finlander, declares that if you don't land him and his mates at Bergen
they'll seize the ship and sail for Aberdeen."
"But why on earth don't you open the fore-cabin?"
"Oh, that's where it is, sir! The key is lost, or else the professor has
it."
"Hark!"
A squall at that moment struck the ship and heeled her over. It blew with
tremendous force for a time, and at last settled down to a steady gale.
But in less than an hour the captain's orders were carried out, and the
good ship _Valhalla_ was speeding before the wind at a good rate with
very little sail on her.
The storm increased towards midnight, and at that dark hour the
_Valhalla_ had to lie to under almost bare poles. So busy had all hands
been kept that there was very little time to think of ghosts or evil
spirits, and now that the crew had a chance of turning in, it is needless
to say that sleep was the first thing to be considered.
But fresh trouble came with the new day. The wind had gone down, and the
sea as well, and the _Valhalla_ was now bowling along on a pretty even
keel, for the breeze was well astern.
Webb, the mate, and Tom both slept in bunks in the same cabin. Just as
the steward was laying breakfast, Webb popped his head out from his cabin
curtains.
"Hillo, steward!"
"Good-morning, sah!" said Jake Brown, who, strange as it may seem, was a
tall and important-looking black man, with hair as white as snow.
"Have you seen Master Tom? He hasn't been here all night. I slept too
sound to take much notice."
"Sakes alive, no!" cried burly Jake. "I run and search de ship plenty
quick." And away he went.
Webb was dressed and leaving his cabin when Jake returned. But neither
high nor low, fore nor aft, could Tom be found, nor had he been seen
since the main-topsail had carried away just before midnight.
The captain was now roused and the terrible news reported.
"Poor Tom! poor Tom! Washed overboard without a doubt!" he said.
Tom had been a great favourite on board, and the news caused a general
gloom all over the ship.
But Broomberg and his mates received the news in another way.
"It is von unlucky ship," cried the former, "and did not those below hear
the shrieking of the ghosts when the waves and wind were highest? Come we
to the captain at once, men. I will not sail in a haunted ship. No, no."
Some minutes before eight bells rang out in the morning air, the captain
on the quarter-deck, with Mr. Webb and the professor, were engaged in
angry talk with Broomberg and his fellows.
"Return to your duty, men," the captain said. "I will make enquiries
into the matter. As for you, Broomberg, hand over that knife you are
fingering, and consider yourself under arrest."
"I will not," shouted the fellow. "See!"
He made a wild rush aft, holding the glittering blade high in air, and
seized the professor by the neck.
But help from an unexpected quarter was at hand, and next moment
Broomberg was sprawling on his back with Briton's great paws on his
chest.
Mutiny and ghosts and storm were at once forgotten. The men cheered
wildly, Broomberg's knife was snatched from his hand, and he himself
bound hand and foot, while everybody crowded round to shake hands with
the little professor, or to pat the noble dog who had saved his life.
But suddenly joy was changed to terror, for shriek after shriek could be
heard forward, and in a few seconds' time the cook rushed helter-skelter
up on deck, almost pale with fright, followed by the men of the watch
below.
"The ghosts!" somebody shouted.
The captain stood as if stupefied, the little professor's eyes were as
big as watch-glasses, and the mate had to catch hold of a back-stay to
prevent himself from falling.
The whole crew now took to the rigging, and the only marvel is that some
of them did not slip overboard and make food for the sharks.
"Look, look!--oh, look, sir!" shouted the mate with a cry like one in
a nightmare; and the next moment he fainted and fell on the top of
Broomberg the mutineer.