chance, you see; he wants to `malt' money."
"I want to see all I can see on this cruise," said Allan, reddening alittle as he spoke, "and I want if possible to make the voyage pay.Well, bother take you, Ralph, call it `makin' money' if you like."
"The gigantic mammoth," continued McBain, "used inhabit the far northernregions, where they existed in millions. Now human nature is the sameall over the world, and, I suppose, always has been. Man is acollecting animal; the North American Indians collect scalps--"
"Misers collect money," said Rory, "and little boys stamps."
"In some parts of the world," McBain went on, "the natives make giantpyramids of the antlers of deer; the King of Dahomey prefers humanskulls, and if there be caves filled with mammoth tusks, as thetraditions of the Norwegians would lead us to believe, they weredoubtless collected by the natives as trophies of the hunt, and stowedaway in caves. The mammoth you know was the largest kind of elephant--"
"Och!" cried Rory, interrupting McBain; "what an iconoclast you are tobe sure; what a breaker of images?"
"Explain, my boy," said McBain, smiling, for he could spy fun in Rory'seye.
"You say the mam-_moth_ was an elephant," said Rory. "Och! sure it wasmyself was thinking all the time it was a kind of a butterfly."
"Indeed, indeed, Rory," said Ralph, "I think it is time little boys likeyou were in bed."
"Well, boys," said McBain, rising, "maybe it is time we all turned in,and thankful we have to be for a quiet night, for a fair wind, and aclear sea. Dream about your `butterfly,' Rory, my son, for depend uponit we'll see him yet."
Next day was Sunday. How inexpressibly calm and delightful, whenweather is fine and wind is fair, is a Sunday at sea. It is then indeeda Sabbath, a day of quiet rest.
On this particular morning, saving a few fleecy cloudlets that lay alongthe southern horizon, there was no cloud to be seen in all the blue sky,and the sun shone warmly down on the snowy canvas and white decks of the_Snowbird_, as she coquetted over the rippling sea. The men, dressed intheir neatest suits, were assembled aft on the quarter-deck, near thebinnacle, so that even the man at the wheel could join in the beautifulForm of Prayer to be used at Sea, read by McBain in rich and manlytones. Had you climbed into the maintop of that yacht, that white speckon the ocean's blue, and gazed around you on every side, you would havescanned the horizon in vain for a sight of a single living thing. Theywere indeed alone on the wide ocean. Alone, yet not alone, for One waswith them to whom they were now appealing. "One terrible in all Hisworks of wonder, at whose command the winds do blow, and who stilleththe raging of the tempest."
Prayers over, Ap pipes down, the men move forward to read or to talk,and by-and-bye it will be the dinner-hour; this is "plum-dough" day,and, mind you, sailors are just like schoolboys, they _think_ about thissort of thing. Oscar, the Saint. Bernard, has mounted on top of theskylight--his favourite resting-place in fine weather--and laid himselfdown to sleep in dog fashion, with one eye a little open, and one ear onhalf-cock to catch the faintest unusual sound.
"Do you know," said Ralph, looking over the bulwarks and down at thegliding water, "I think I should like to live at sea."
"Ay, ay," said Rory, "if it was always like this, O! thou fair-weathersailor, but when we're lying-to in a gale of wind, Ralph, that is thetime I like to see you, fast in your armchair, with the long legs of youagainst the bulkheads to steady yourself, and trying in vain to swallowa cup of tea. Oh! then is the time you look so pleasant."
Ralph looked at this teasing shipmate of his for a moment or two with akind of amused smile on his handsome face, then he pulled his ear forhim and walked away aft.
About five days after this Rory came on deck; he had been talking toCaptain McBain in his cabin. The captain was working out the reckoning,during which I don't think Rory helped him very much.
"Well, Rory," said Allan, "you've been plaguing the life out of poorMcBain, I know. But tell us the news--where are we?"
"Indeed," said Rory, with pretended gravity, "we're in a queer placealtogether, and I don't know that ever we'll get out of it."
"Out of what?" cried Ralph; "speak out, man--anything gone wrong?"
"Indeed then," replied Rory, "there has been a collision."
"A collision?"
"Yes, a collision between the latitude and the longitude, and they'reboth standing stock still at 60."
"I'll explain," said McBain, who had just joined them. "The good ship_Snowbird_, latitude 60 degrees North, longitude 60 degrees West."
"Now do you see, Mr Obtuse?" said Rory.
"I do," said Ralph, "but no thanks to you."
Next morning land was in sight on the lee bow, and by noon they had castanchor and clewed sails in a small bay near a creek.
"Not a very hospitable-looking shore, is it?" said McBain; "but nevermind, here are birds in plenty, and no doubt we'll find fur as well asfeather. So be ready by to-morrow for a big shoot."
"_I'm_ ready now," said Rory, "just for a small `explore,' you know, andwe'll come back by sunset and report."
"And I'll go with him," said Allan.
"Mind you don't get lost," cried McBain; "and we don't expect a big bag,you know."
Rory carried his rifle, Allan his gun; they were armed for anything, andfelt big enough to tackle a bear for that matter. They pulled straightin-shore and up the creek, and to their joy they found at the head of ita nice stream; not a river by any means, but still navigable enough formore than a mile for their little craft. They soon came to a rapid,almost a waterfall, indeed, and not thinking it expedient to carry theirboat, or to proceed farther on water, they landed, made her fast to thestump of an old tree, and trudged on in quest of adventure, with theirguns over their shoulders.
"Now," said Rory, pausing to gaze around him, after they had walked onin silence over a wild and scraggy heath for more than an hour, "if wehad merely come in quest of the beautiful and the picturesque, and if Ihad brought my sketch-book with me, it strikes me we would have beenrewarded, but as for shooting, why, we would have done well to havestopped on the seashore and kept potting away at the gulls."
The scenery about them was indeed lovely, with a loveliness peculiarlyits own. It was summer in this wild northern land; everywhere themoorlands and plains were carpeted with the greenest of grass, orbedecked with mosses and lichens of every hue imaginable, from thesombrest brown to the brightest scarlet. Of wild flowers there were butfew, but heaths, still green, there were in abundance, and many curiouswild shrubs they had never seen before; but they knew the juniper-plantand the sweet-scented wild myrtle. Why, it was the same that adornedthe braes of Arrandoon! Then there were fruit-trees of various kinds,and trees that bore large pink and white flowers. It seemed odd to ourheroes to see big flowers growing on tree-tops, but this, and indeedeverything else around them, only served to remind them that they werein a foreign land. What they missed the most were the wild flowers andthe song of birds. Birds there were, but they were silent: they wouldrush out from a bush, or flutter down from a tree, to gaze curiously atthem, then be off again. The horizon was bounded by rugged hills,surrounded by a forest of pine-trees.
"I think," said Rory, "we should climb that sugar-loaf hill. What agrand view we would get. Let us walk towards the wood; we are sure tofind game there."
"Do you know in what direction our ship lies?" said Allan.
"That I don't," said Rory; "but if we follow the stream we are sure tofind the boat."
"But we have left the stream. Do you think you know in what directionthat lies?"
"Pooh! no!" cried Rory. "Oh, look, Allan! look at that lovely blue andcrimson bird! Fire, boy, fire!"
Allan fired and Rory bagged the beauty.
Then on they went, firing now at some strange bird and now at a weaselor polecat, taking little heed of where they were going, just asheedless as youth so often is.
There was a ravine between them and the forest, which the purple haze ofdistance had hidden from
their view, but, as they were bent on reachingthe pines by hook or by crook, they descended. The grass grew greenerat the bottom of this dale, and here they found a stream of pure water,with a bottom of golden sand and boulders. This was a temptation not tobe resisted, so they threw themselves down on the bank after quenchingtheir thirsty and proceeded, in a languid and dreamy kind of manner, towatch the movements of the shoals of speckled trout that gambolled inthe stream, chasing each other round the stones, and poking each otherin the ribs with their round slimy
The Cruise of the Snowbird: A Story of Arctic Adventure Page 25