Fingal would speak with a vengeance, till every hill and every rock
re-echoed his bow-wow-wows. But the sound was sure to bring up a great
head or two with goggle eyes out of the water, sea-lions, walruses, or
saddle-back or bladder-nose seals, for they are all most inquisitive.
Lying very still sometimes, with the oars in, one single seal would pop
his head out of the sun-glazed water and have a look at the boat.
"Sit still, Byarnie; don't move," Claude would say.
The seal would come nearer and have another look; then down he would go,
tail first, and in three minutes more the sea all around would be black
with great heads and sweet, soft, wondering eyes.
"Well," they would seem to say, "we can't make it out. Never mind, let
us have a romp; the sunshine is so delightful. Hurrah!"
Then a scene of diving, and chasing, and splashing, such as it is
impossible to describe, would ensue; it was, in fact, a seals' ball. If
Byarnie would suddenly explode with a loud "Ho! ho! ho!" of merriment,
or if Fingal barked, then, hey! presto, every head would sink as if by
magic, and in a few minutes the sea would be as smooth as usual, with
only the gulls, divers, or grebes floating lazily on it.
Next, Claude would make Byarnie tell him some wild old Norse story--he
was full of them--with Sagas, or Vikings, or fairies in it, and then
sing. Oh! Byarnie could sing well, but a strange, monotonous kind of
lilt it was--very pleasant, nevertheless, for it _never_ once failed to
put Claude to sleep. So sure, indeed, was Claude of falling asleep when
Byarnie began to sing, that he used to lie down in the stern-sheets with
a cushion beneath his head.
Sometimes he awoke with such a happy, happy half-dazed look on his
handsome face, and say, "Oh! Byarnie, I've had such a pleasant dream!"
Next they would land, and Claude would now read in earnest, while poor
Byarnie cooked the dinner in gipsy fashion.
Very often after this Claude would keep his companion talking about
Iceland, with Meta always the centre figure, for hours, till, when near
sundown, they would probably hear the report of a rifle at some distance
off. This was Dr Barrett signalling to his men, and not long after the
whaler would come sweeping up, and the boats would return together,
often enjoying the fun and frolic of a good race, for Byarnie was a
splendid oarsman; his skiff was light, and he, if not a feather, had the
strength of three ordinary seamen.
Thus pleasantly passed the summer days on that lonesome Greenland ocean.