Wild Adventures round the Pole
Page 48
and thecaptain?"
"Ralph!" said Rory; "why, I don't suppose there is a bit of him to beseen yet, except the extreme tip of his nose and maybe a morsel of hisSaxon chin; and as for the captain, he is busy in his cabin. Breakfastall ready, is it, Peter? Thank you, Peter, we're coming down in ajiffy."
Just as they entered the saloon by one door, McBain came in by another.
"Ah! good morning, Captain Grig," he cried, extending his hand. "Sitdown. Peter, the coffee. And now," he continued, "what think you ofthe prospect? It isn't exactly a fair wind for you to bear up, is it?"
"The wind would do," said Silas; "but I'm hardly what you might calltidy enough to bear up yet. It'll take us a week to make off our skins,and a day more to clean up. I'd like to go home not only a bumper ship,but a clean and wholesome sweet ship."
"Well, then," McBain said, "here is what I'll do for you."
"But you've done so much already," put in Silas, "that really--"
"Nonsense, man," cried McBain, interrupting him; "why, it has been allfun to us. But I was going to say that instead of lying here for aweek, you had better sail north with us, Spitzbergen way, and my menwill help you to make off and tidy up. Who knows but that after thatyou may get a fair wind to carry you right away south into summerweather in little over a week?"
"Bless your heart!" said Silas; "the suggestion is a grand one. I closewith your offer at once. You see, sir, we Greenlandmen generally returnto harbour all dirty, outside anyhow, with our sides scraped clean o'paint, and our masts and spars as black as a collier's."
"_You_ shan't, though," said McBain. "We'll spend a bucket or two ofpaint over him, won't we, boys?"
"That will we," said Ralph and Allan, both in one breath.
"And I'll tell you what I'll do," added Rory.
"Something nice, I'm certain," said Silas.
"I'll paint and gild that Highland lassie of yours that you have for afigure-head."
"Glorious! glorious!" cried Silas Grig.
"Why, my own wife won't know the ship. And, poor wee body! she'll bedown there looking anxiously enough out to sea when she hears I'm in theoffing. Oh, it will be glorious! Won't my matie be pleased when hehears about it!"
"I say, though," said Rory, "I'll change the pattern of your Highlandlassie's tartan. She came to the country a Gordon, she shall return aMcGregor."
"Or a McFlail," suggested Sandy.
"Ha! ha! ha!" This was an impudent, derisive laugh from Cockie's cage,which made everybody else laugh, and caused Sandy to turn red in theface.
After breakfast the ice-anchors were cast off and got on board, and sailset. The _Arrandoon_ led, keeping well clear of the ice, and taking acourse of north-east and by north. When well off the ice, andeverything working free and easy, McBain called all hands, and orderedthe men to lay aft.
"Men," he said, "you all signed articles to complete the voyage with meto the Polar regions and back. Most of you knew, as you put your namesto the paper, what you were about, because you had been here before, butsome of you didn't. Now I am by no means short-handed, and if any ofyou thinks he has had enough of it already, and would like to return tohis country, step forward and say so now, and I'll make arrangementswith Captain Grig for your passage back."
Not a man stirred.
"I will take it as a favour," continued the captain, "if any one who hasany doubts on his mind will come forward now. I want only willing handswith me."
"We _are_ willing, we are willing hands," the men shouted.
"Beg your pardon, sir," said bold Ted Wilson, stepping forward, "but Iknow the crew well. I'm sure they all feel thankful for your kindoffer, but ne'er a man Jack o' them would go back, if you offered to payhim for doing so."
The captain bowed and thanked Ted, and the men gave one hearty cheer andretired.
Once fairly at sea, McBain sent two whalers on board the _Scotia_, theircrews rigged out in working dress, and making off was at once commenced.
Upright boards were made fast here and there along the decks; the skins,with their two or three inches of blubber attached, were handed up frombelow, and the men set to work in this way--they stood at one side ofthe board and spread the skin in front of them on the other; then theyleant over, and first cutting off all useless pieces of flesh, etc, theynext cleaned the blubber from off the skin. This was by other hands cutinto pieces about a foot square, carried away, and sent below to bedeposited in the tanks. Other workmen removed the cleaned skins. Thesewere dashed over with rough salt, rolled tightly and separately up, andcast into tanks by themselves. This latter duty devolved upon themates, and old Silas himself stood, with book in hand, "taking tally,"that is, counting the number of skins as they were passed one by onebelow. The refuse, or "orra bits," as Scotch sailors call them, werethrown overboard by bucketfuls, and over these thousands of screaminggulls fought on the surface of the water, and scores of sharksimmediately beneath.
It was a busy scene, and one that can only be witnessed in Greenlandnorth.
In three days all the skins were made off and stowed away. All thistime the men had been as merry as sheep-shearers, and only on the lastday did Silas splice the main-brace, even then diluting the rum withwarm coffee.
Then came the cleaning up, and scouring of decks below and above, andwhite-washing and mast-scraping. After this McBain sent his painters onboard, and in less than four-and-twenty hours she looked like a newship.
And Rory was busy below on the 'tween decks. The Highland lassie hadbeen unshipped, and taken below for him to paint and gild. Rory, mindyou, did not wish it to be unshipped. He would have preferred beingswung overboard. There would have been more fun in it, he said. ButSilas would not hear of such a thing. The cold, he feared, would benumbhim so that he might drop off into the sea, to the infinite joy andsatisfaction of a gang of unprincipled sharks that kept up with theship, but to the everlasting sorrow of him, Captain Silas Grig.
When the ship was all painted, and the masts scraped and varnished, andthe Highland lassie--brightly arrayed in gold and McGregor tartan--re-shipped, why then, I do not think a prouder or happier man than SilasGrig ever trod a quarter-deck.
The day after this everybody on the _Arrandoon_ was busy, busy, busywriting letters for home.
They were thus engaged, when a shout came from the crow's-nest,--
"Heavy ice ahead!"
It was the ice-bound shores of the southernmost islands of Spitzbergenthey had sighted. They passed between several of these, and grandlybeautiful they looked, with their fantastically-shaped sides glitteringgreen and blue and white in the sunshine. These islands seemed to bethe northern home or summer retreat of the great bladder-nosed seal andthe giant walrus. They basked on the smaller bergs that floated aroundthem, while hundreds of strange sea-birds nodded half asleep on thesnow-clad rocks.
It was here where the two ships parted, the _Canny Scotia_ bearing upfor the sunny south, the _Arrandoon_ clewing sails and lighting fires tosteam away to The Unknown Land.
There were tears in poor Rory's eyes as he shook hands with Silas, andhe could not trust himself to say much. Indeed, there was little saidon either hand, but the farewell wishes were none the less heartfelt forall that. There is always somewhat of humour mixed up with the sad inlife. It was not wanting on this occasion. Silas had brought a servantwith him when he came to say adieu. This servant carried with him amysterious-looking box. It was all he could do to lift it. SeeingMcBain 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 forgetyou, anyhow," he continued; "and look here, boys, if a prayer from sucha rough old salt as I am availeth, then Heaven will send you safely homeagain, and the first to welcome you will be Silas Grig. Good-bye, Godbe wi' ye."
"Good-bye, God be wi' ye."
CHAPTER TWENTY NINE.
NORTHWARD HO!--HOISTING BEACONS--THE WHITE FOG--THE GREAT SEA-SERPENT.
"Good-bye, and God be with you."
It was a prayer as heartfelt and fervent as ever fell from the lips ofan honest sailor.
The _Arrandoon_ steamed away, and soon was hidden from view behind alofty iceberg, and all that Silas Grig, as he stood on his ownquarter-deck, could now hear, was the sad and mournful wail of Peter'sbagpipes. Peter was playing that wild and plaintive melody which hasdrawn tears from so many eyes when our brave Highland regiments weredeparting for some far-off seat of wax, to be--
"Borne on rough seas to a far-distant shore, Maybe to return to Lochaber no