"Heavy ice ahead!"
It was the ice-bound shores of the southernmost islands of Spitzbergen
they had sighted. They passed between several of these, and grandly
beautiful they looked, with their fantastically-shaped sides glittering
green and blue and white in the sunshine. These islands seemed to be
the northern home or summer retreat of the great bladder-nosed seal and
the giant walrus. They basked on the smaller bergs that floated around
them, while hundreds of strange sea-birds nodded half asleep on the
snow-clad rocks.
It was here where the two ships parted, the _Canny Scotia_ bearing up
for the sunny south, the _Arrandoon_ clewing sails and lighting fires to
steam away to The Unknown Land.
There were tears in poor Rory's eyes as he shook hands with Silas, and
he could not trust himself to say much. Indeed, there was little said
on either hand, but the farewell wishes were none the less heartfelt for
all that. There is always somewhat of humour mixed up with the sad in
life. It was not wanting on this occasion. Silas had brought a servant
with him when he came to say adieu. This servant carried with him a
mysterious-looking box. It was all he could do to lift it. Seeing
McBain look inquiringly at it,--
"It's just a drop of green ginger," said Silas. "When you tap it, boys,
when far away from here, you won't forget Silas, I know. I won't forget
you, anyhow," he continued; "and look here, boys, if a prayer from such
a rough old salt as I am availeth, then Heaven will send you safely home
again, and the first to welcome you will be Silas Grig. Good-bye, God
be wi' ye."
"Good-bye, God be wi' ye."