THE VOYAGE RESUMED--A PLEASANT EVENING--"THOSE RUSHING WINDS"--THE
"ARRANDOON" GROWS SAUCY--THE DOCTOR SPREAD-EAGLED--A SCHOOL OF WHALES.
Ere the day had worn to a close, before the sun went down in a golden
haze, leaving one long line of crimson cloud, as earnest of a bright
to-morrow, the _Arrandoon_, steaming twelve knots to the hour, was once
more far away at sea, and the rugged mountains of Iceland could hardly
be descried. As night fell a breeze sprang up, and as there was little
doubt it would freshen ere long--for it blew from the east-south-east,
and the glass had slightly gone down, with the mercury still concave at
top--Captain McBain gave orders for the fires to be banked, and as much
canvas spread as she could comfortably carry.
"Just make her snug, you know, Mr Stevenson," said McBain, "for the
night will be dark, and we may have more wind before the middle watch."
"And troth," said Rory to his companions, "if the ship is to be made
snug, I don't see why we shouldn't make ourselves snug for the night
too."
Ralph was gazing down through the skylight at the brilliantly-lighted
saloon, where Peter, with the aid of the assistant-steward and Freezing
Powders, was busy laying the cloth for dinner.
"I've just come from forward," replied Ralph, in raptures, "where I've
been sniffing the roast beef and the boiled potatoes; and now just look
below, Rory,--look how Peter's face beams with intelligent delight; see
how radiant Freezing Powders is; behold how merrily the flames dance on
that fire of fires in the stove, and how the coloured crystal shimmers,
and the bright silver shines on that cloth of spotless snow! Yes, Rory,
you're right, boy--let us make ourselves snug for the night. So down we
go, and dress our smartest--for, mind, boys, there is going to be
company to-night."
Yes, there was going to be company; five were all that as a rule sat
down to table in the grand saloon, but to-night the covers were laid for
five more, namely Stevenson, Seth, old Magnus, and Ap, and last, though
not least, De Vere, the French aeronaut.
The cook of the _Arrandoon_ had been chosen specially by Ralph himself.
Need I say, then, that he was an artist? and to-night he had done his
best to outshine himself, and, I think, succeeded. I think, too, that
when Peter went forward, some time after the great joints had been put
on the table, and told him that everything was going on "as merrily as
marriage bells," and that the gentlemen were loud in their praises of
Ralph's cook, that that cook was about the happiest man in the ship.
Peter had not exaggerated a bit either, for everything did go off well
at this little dinner-party. It would have done your heart good to have
seen the beaming countenances of little Ap, old man Magnus, and honest
trapper Seth; and to have noticed how often they passed their plates for
another help would have made you open your eyes with wonder--that is, if
you never had been to Greenland; but had you made the voyage North
Polewards even once, you would have known that of all countries in the
world that is just the place to give man or boy a healthy appetite.
When the cloth was removed and dessert placed upon the table they seemed
happier than ever, if that were possible, and smiles and jokes and
jocund yarns ere the order of the evening. After every good story the
cockatoo helped himself to an immense mouthful of hemp-seed, and
cried,--
"Dea-ah me! Well, well, but go on, _go on_--next."
And as to Freezing Powders, he was so amazed at many things he heard,
that more than a dozen times in one hour he had to refresh himself by
standing on his head in a corner of the saloon.
"Well, well, well!" said McBain, taking the advantage of a mere
momentary lull in this feast of reason and flow of soul, "and what a
strange mixture of nationalities we are, to be sure! Here is our bold,
quiet Ralph, English to the spine--"
"And I," said Rory, "I'm Oirish to the chine."
"That you are," assented McBain; "and Allan and myself here are Scotch;
and if you look farther along the table there is Wales represented in
the form of cool, calculating, mathematical Ap; Shetland in the shape of
our brave gunner Magnus; France in the form of friend De Vere; and the
mightiest republic in the world in Seth's six feet and odd inches; to
say nothing of Africa standing on its head beside Polly's cage.
Freezing Powders, you young rascal, drop on to your other end; don't you
see you're making Polly believe the world is upside down? look at her
hanging by the feet with her head down!"
"Dat cockatoo not a fool, sah," said Freezing Powders; "he know putty
well what he am about, sah!"
"D'ye know," said Ralph, looking smilingly towards Seth, "it is quite
like old times to see Seth once more in the midst of us?"
"And oh!" said Seth, rubbing his hands, while a modest smile stole over
his wiry face, "mebbe this old trapper ain't a bit pleased to meet ye
all again. Gentlemen, Seth and civilisation hain't been 'cquaintances
very long; skins seem to suit this child better'n the fine toggery ye've
rigged him out in. But ye've made him feel a deal younger, and he
guesses and calculates he may die 'pectable yet."
I fear it was pretty far into the middle watch ere our friends parted
and betook themselves to their berths. Two bells had gone--"the wee
short hoor ayont the twal"--when McBain rose from the table, this being
a signal for general good-nights.
"I'm going part of the way home with you, old man," he said to Magnus,
and with his arm placed kindly over his shoulder he left the saloon with
the brave wee Shetlander. "Two turns on the deck, Magnus," he
continued, "and then you can turn in. And so, you say, in all your
experience--and it has been very vast, hasn't it, my friend?"
"That it has, sir," replied Magnus. "I may say I was born in these
seas, for the first thing I remember--when our ship went down under us
in the pack north of Jan Mayen--is my father, bless him! putting me in a
carpetbag for safety, to carry me on to the ice with him. Yes, sir,
yes."
"And in all your experience," McBain went on, "you don't remember a
season likely to have been more favourable for our expedition to the
North Pole than the present?"
"I don't, sir--I don't," said little Magnus, "Look, see, sir, the frost
has been extreme all over the north. In the Arctic regions the ice has
been all of a heap like. It isn't yet loosened. We haven't met a berg
yet. Funny, ain't it, sir?--queer, isn't it, cap'n?"
"It is strange," said McBain; "and from this what do you anticipate?"
"Anticipate isn't the word, cap'n," cried Magnus, fixing McBain by the
right arm, stopping his way, and emphasising his words with wildfire
glints from his warlock eyes. "Anticipate?--bah! cap'n--bah! I'm old
enough to be your grandfather. Ask me rather what I _augur_? And I
answer this, I augur a glorious summer. Ice loosened before May-Day.
Fierce heat south of England, and consequently rarefaction of the
atmosphere, and rushing winds from the far north to fill up the heated
vacuum--rushing winds to trundle the icebergs south before them--rushing
winds to split the packs, and rend the floes, and open up a passage for
this brave ship to the far-off Isle of Alba."
"Bless you, Magnus! Give us your hand, my old sea-dad. You always gave
me comfort, even when I was a boy in the wilds of Spitzbergen. You
taught me to splice, and reef, and steer. Bless you, Magnus! I
couldn't have sailed without you."
"But stay, my son, stay," continued this weird little man, holding up a
warning finger; "those rushing winds--"
"Yes, Magnus?"
"They will bring danger on their wings."
"I'll welcome it, Magnus," laughed McBain.
"Those rushing winds will tear down on us, hurricane-high,
tempest-strong. The great bergs, impelled by force of wind and might of
wave, will dash each other to atoms."
"All the better for us, Daddy Magnus," said the captain.
"Were your voice as loud as cannon's roar you will be as one dumb amid
the turmoil."
"Then I'll steer by signs," said McBain.
"Should our ship escape destruction, we will be enveloped by fogs,
encircled by a darkness that will be felt."
"Then we'll heave-to and wait till they evaporate. But there, my good
Magnus, you see I'm not afraid of anything. I'd be unworthy of such a
sea-dad as you if I were; so no more tragic airs, please. Thou mindest
me, old Magnus, of the scene between Lochiel and the Wizard.
"`Lochiel, Lochiel, beware of the day
When the Lowlands shall meet you in battle array,'
"says the Wizard, and so on and so forth.
"`False wizard, avaunt!' replies Lochiel, and all the rest of it, you
know. But, beloved Magnus, I don't _say_ `avaunt!' to you. But just
see how the cold spray is dashing inboard. So, not to put too poetic a
point on it, I simply say, `Go down below, old man, and don't get wet,
else your joints will ache in the morning with the rheumatiz.'"
The morning broke beautifully fine and clear, the reefs were shaken out
of the topsails, topgallant-sails and royals were set, and, indeed, all
the square cloth she could carry, and away went the _Arrandoon_ before
the wind, as happy, to all appearance, as the malleys and gulls that
seemed to play at hide-and-seek with her, behind the comb-crested seas
of olive-green.
Ralph and Allan, arm-in-arm, were marching rapidly up and down one side
of the quarter-deck, Rory and McFlail on the other, and ever and anon a
merry laugh from some one of them rang out bright and joyously on the
fresh frosty air.
Towards noon stunsails were set, and the _Arrandoon_ looked more like a
sea-bird than ever; she even seemed to sing to herself--so thought Rory
and so thought the doctor--as she went nodding and curtseying along over
the waves, with now a bend to starboard, and now a lean to port; now
lowering her bows till the seas ahead looked mountains high, and anon
giving a dip waterwards till her waist was wet with the seething spray,
and her lower stunsail-booms seemed to tickle the very breast of old
mother ocean.
The wind was increasing, and there were times when our boys had to pause
in their walk and grapple the mizzen rigging, laughing at each other as
they did so.
"Wo ho, my beauty?" said McBain. "Mr Mitchell, I daresay we must take
in sail."
"I'm afraid so, sir," replies Mitchell; "but--" and here he eyes the
bellowing canvas--"it do seem a pity, sir, don't it?"
But here "my beauty" gives a vicious plunge forwards, elevating herself
aft like a kicking mare, and shipping tons of water over her bows.
"I don't want to be wicked," the ship seems to say, "and I don't want to
lose a spar, though I _could_ kick one off as easy as a daddy-longlegs
gets rid of a limb; but if you don't ease me a bit I'll--"
A bigger and more decided plunge into the sea, followed by a rising of
her jibboom zenithwards, and the water comes roaring aft in one great
bore, which seeks exit by the quarter-deck scupper-holes, and goes
tumbling down the companion ladder, to the indignation of Peter and the
disgust of Freezing Powders, who is standing on his head in an attitude
of contemplation, and ships a green sea down his nostrils. Our heroes
leap in time on to the top of the skylight, and there sit grinning
delightedly as the waters go roaring past them, and floating thereon
evidence enough that the men had been preparing dinner when Neptune
boarded them, for yonder float potatoes and turnips and cabbages, to say
nothing of a leg of Highland mutton and a six-pound piece of bacon.
"Hands, shorten sail!"
But next day--so changeable is a sailor's life--the wind had all got
bottled up again or gone back to its cave; the sea was smooth as glass,
and steam was up, but the sky was still clear, and the sun undimmed by
the slightest haze.
Just before lunch came the first signs that ice was not far ahead. The
_Arrandoon_ encountered a great "stream," as it is called, of deep,
snowy slush--I do not know what else to call it. It stretched away
eastwards to westwards, as far as the eye from the crow's-nest could
reach, and it was probably nine or ten miles wide. It lessened the good
ship's way considerably, you may be sure. Her bows clove through it
with a brushing sound; her screw revolved in it with a noise like dead
leaves stirred by autumn winds.
"Losh!" cried Sandy, the surgeon, looking curiously overboard, "what's
this noo? Wonders will never cease!"
"Och, sure!" replied Rory, mischievously, "you know well enough what it
is; it's only speaking for speaking's sake you are."
"The ne'er a bone o' ma knows, I do assure ye," said Sandy.
"Well, doctor dear," said Rory, "it is simply the belt, or zone, that
geographers call the `Arctic circle.'"
But Sandy looked at him with a pitying smile. "Man--Rory?" he said,
"I'm no' so sea-green as you tak me to be. I've a right good mind to
pu' your lugs. Young men, sir, dinna enter Aberdeen University stirks
and come out cuddies?"
"Mon!" cried Rory, imitating Sandy's brogue, "if ye want to pu' my lugs
you'll hae to catch me first;" and off he went round the deck, with the
doctor after him. But Ralph caught him, if Sandy couldn't, and handed
him over to justice.
"Now," cried the surgeon, catching him by the ear, "whistle, and I'll
let you free."
It is no easy matter to whistle when you want to laugh, but when Rory at
long last did manage to emit a labial note that passed muster as a
whistle, the doctor was as good as his word, and Rory was free.
Luncheon was barely finished, when down from the crow's-nest rang the
welcome hail, "Ice ahead!"
Our heroes rushed on deck, McBain was there before them, and when they
stepped on to the "lid" of the ship, as Sandy once called the deck, they
found the captain half-way up to the nest.
There wasn't a bit of ice to be seen from the deck.
"Hurrah for the foretop?" cried Rory, laying hold of a stay. "Who's
coming?"
"I will!" cried Allan.
"I'm going below to finish lunch," said Ralph.
"I'll be safer on deck, I think," said the canny doctor.
But when Rory on the foretop struck an attitude of wonderment, and
pointing away ahead, exclaimed, in rapture, "Oh, boys, what a scene is
here!" the doctor thought he would give anything for a peep, so he
summoned up his courage and began to ascend the rigging, slowly, and
with about as much grace in his actions as a mud turtle would exhibit
under the like circumstances.
Allan roared, "Good doctor! good! Bravo, old man! Heave round like a
brick! Don't look down."
Rory was in a fit of merriment, and trying to stifle himself with his
handkerchief. Suddenly down dropped that handkerchief; and this was
just the signal four active lads were waiting for. Up they sprang like
monkeys behind the surgeon, who had hardly reached the lubber-hole.
Alas! the good medico didn't reach it that day, for before you could
have said "cutlass" he was seized, hand and foot, and lashed to the
rigging, Saint Andrew's-cross fashion.
The surgeon of the _Arrandoon_ was spread-eagled, and Rory, the wicked
boy! had his revenge.
"My conscience!" cried Sandy; "what next, I wonder?"
"It's a vera judeecious arrangement," sung Rory from the top.
But the men were not hard on the worthy doctor, and the promise of
several ounces of nigger-head procured him his freedom, and he soon
regained the deck, a sadder and a wiser man.
They were quickly among the ice--not bergs, mind you, only a stream of
bits and pieces, of every shape and form, some like sheep and some like
swans, and some like great white oxen. Here was a piece like a
milking-pail; here was a lump like a hay-cock; yonder a gondola; yonder
a boat; and yonder a couch on which the Naiades might recline and float,
or Ino slumber.
It was Rory who made the last remark.
"And by this and by that!" he exclaimed, "there is a Naiad on it now! or
it's Ino herself, by all that's amusing!"
"Away, second whaler!"--this from McBain. "Get your rifle, boy Rory,
and jump on board and fetch that seal!"
Down rattled the boat from the davits, Rory in the bows; the next moment
she was off, and tearing through the glazed water as fast as sturdy arms
could row. The seal took one look up to see what was coming. Rory's
rifle rang out sharp and clear in the frosty air, and the poor seal
never lifted head again.
The ship was by this time a goodly mile ahead, but there she stopped;
then she went ahead again, rounded, and came back full speed to meet the
boat, for they on board could see a danger that Rory couldn't--couldn't,
did I say? Ah! but he soon did, and, with the roar of a maelstrom, down
they came upon him--an enormous school of whales!
The men lay on their oars thunderstruck. The sea around them seemed
alive with the mighty monsters. How they plunged and ploughed and
snorted and blew! The sea became roughened, as if a fierce wind was
blowing over it; pieces of ice as large as boats were caught on the
backs or tails of these brutes and pitched aside as one might a
football.
It occurred to Rory to fire at some of them.
"Stay, stay!" roared the coxswain; "if you love your life, sir, and care
for ours, fire not. _You_ may never have seen a whale angry--I have.
Fire not, I beseech you!"
It was a strange danger to have encountered, and Rory and his boat-mates
were not sorry when it passed, and they once more stood in safety on the
deck of the _Arrandoon_.
But Rory soon regained his equanimity.
"Five hundred whales!" he cried; "and they were all mine, Ralph, 'cause
I found them! Sure, they were worth a million of money?"
"So you've been a millionaire, Rory?" said McBain. "Yes, worse luck!"
said Rory, in a voice of comic sadness, "a millionaire for a minute!"