Part 21 (1/2)

Harry pointed to a ma.s.s of snow, of about two feet square, which lay on the floor beside the door. It had been placed there by the doctor some time previously.

”Do with it? Have patience, my friend, and you shall see. It is a little surprise I have in store for Hamilton.”

As he spoke, the door opened, and a short, square-built man rushed into the room, with a pistol in one hand and a bright little bullet in the other.

”Hollo, skipper!” cried Harry, ”what's the row?”

”All right,” cried the skipper; ”here it is at last, solid as the fluke of an anchor. Toss me the powder-flask Harry; look sharp, else it'll melt.”

A powder-flask was immediately produced, from which the skipper hastily charged the pistol, and rammed down the s.h.i.+ning bullet.

”Now then,” said he, ”look out for squalls. Clear the decks there.”

And rus.h.i.+ng to the door, he flung it open, took a steady aim at something outside, and fired.

”Is the man mad?” said the accountant, as with a look of amazement he beheld the skipper spring through the doorway, and immediately return bearing in his arms a large piece of fir plank.

”Not quite mad yet,” he said, in reply, ”but I've sent a ball of quicksilver through an inch plank, and that's not a thing to be done every day--even _here_, although it _is_ cold enough sometimes to freeze up one's very ideas.”

”Dear me,” interrupted Harry Somerville, looking as if a new thought had struck him, ”that must be it! I've no doubt that poor Hamilton's ideas are _frozen_, which accounts for the total absence of any indication of his possessing such things.”

”I observed,” continued the skipper, not noticing the interruption, ”that the gla.s.s was down at 45 degrees below zero this morning, and put out a bullet-mould full of mercury, and you see the result.” As he spoke he held up the perforated plank in triumph.

The skipper was a strange mixture of qualities. To a wild, off-hand, sailor-like hilarity of disposition in hours of leisure, he united a grave, stern energy of character while employed in the performance of his duties. Duty was always paramount with him. A smile could scarcely be extracted from him while it was in the course of performance. But the instant his work was done a new spirit seemed to take possession of the man. Fun, mischief of any kind, no matter how childish, he entered into with the greatest delight and enthusiasm. Among other peculiarities, he had become deeply imbued with a thirst for scientific knowledge, ever since he had acquired, with infinite labour, the small modic.u.m of science necessary to navigation; and his doings in pursuit of statistical information relative to the weather, and the phenomena of nature generally, were very peculiar, and in some cases outrageous.

His transaction with the quicksilver was in consequence of an eager desire to see that metal frozen (an effect which takes place when the spirit-of-wine thermometer falls to 39 degrees below zero of Fahrenheit), and a wish to be able to boast of having actually fired a mercurial bullet through an inch plank. Having made a careful note of the fact, with all the relative circ.u.mstances attending it, in a very much blotted book, which he denominated his scientific log, the worthy skipper threw off his coat, drew a chair to the stove, and prepared to regale himself with a pipe. As he glanced slowly round the room while thus engaged, his eye fell on the ma.s.s of snow before alluded to. On being informed by the doctor for what it was intended, he laid down his pipe and rose hastily from his chair.

”You've not a moment to lose,” said he. ”As I came in at the gate just now, I saw Hamilton coming down the river on the ice, and he must be almost arrived now.”

”Up with it then,” cried the doctor, seizing the snow, and lifting it to the top of the door. ”Hand me those bits of stick, Harry; quick, man, stir your stumps.--Now then, skipper, fix them in so, while I hold this up.”

The skipper lent willing and effective aid, so that in a few minutes the snow was placed in such a position that upon the opening of the door it must inevitably fall on the head of the first person who should enter the room.

”So,” said the skipper, ”that's rigged up in what I call s.h.i.+p-shape fas.h.i.+on.”

”True,” remarked the doctor, eyeing the arrangement with a look of approval; ”it will do, I think, admirably.”

”Don't you think, skipper,” said Harry Somerville gravely, as he resumed his seat in front of the fire, ”that it would be worth while to make a careful and minute entry in your private log of the manner in which it was put up, to be afterwards followed by an account of its effect? You might write an essay on it now, and call it the extraordinary effects of a fall of snow in lat.i.tude so and so, eh? What think you of it?”

The skipper vouchsafed no reply, but made a significant gesture with his fist, which caused Harry to put himself in a posture of defence.

At this moment footsteps were heard on the wooden platform in front of the building.

Instantly all became silence and expectation in the hall as the result of the practical joke was about to be realised. Just then another step was heard on the platform, and it became evident that two persons were approaching the door.

”Hope it'll be the right man,” said the skipper, with a look savouring slightly of anxiety.

As he spoke the door opened, and a foot crossed the threshold; the next instant the miniature avalanche descended on the head and shoulders of a man, who reeled forward from the weight of the blow, and, covered from head to foot with snow, fell to the ground amid shouts of laughter.

With a convulsive stamp and shake, the prostrate figure sprang up and confronted the party. Had the cast-iron stove suddenly burst into atoms, and blown the roof off the house, it could scarcely have created greater consternation than that which filled the merry jesters when they beheld the visage of Mr. Rogan, the superintendent of the fort, red with pa.s.sion and fringed with snow.