Part 30 (1/2)
”But how did you get clear finally?” asked Regnar.
”De ould capten dat was drownded de oder day was mate den. He was a wild young chap, but smart an' able. He tould de capten to rig one of de pumps, and pump some of de oily water out of de hold. So de brakes was rigged, but he an' de capten had to man dem at first, for all de rest were afeard, an' I was in de fore-riggin' watchin' de says.
”Well, dey pumped a while, an' de oil an' water went overboard, an' as we went driftin' away to leeward, I saw de slick of de ile spreadin'
over de waves. We kept a couple of men at de pumps till night, an' dere wasn't another say broke over us.”
”Swiles! Swiles! On deck, dere below!” cried some one on deck; and a general rush up the steep ladder leading to the deck took place.
Following the others, our three friends soon found their companion, La Salle, who had pressed through the crowded gangways to his party.
Again they lay below the Deadman's Berg, and around them were the floes, crowded with living seals, as well as the one over which the ravenous sea-birds fluttered, holding high carnival over the mult.i.tude of frozen bodies. The crew, armed with guns and clubs, were lowering their light boats, and the party dragging their own boat to the side, awaited the lowering of a boat to use its falls for their own. Blake approached them, and said, kindly,--
”I wouldn't land; you must be tired, and need rest. Just turn in, all of you, in the cabin, for we shall be ash.o.r.e all day.”
”We would rather hunt with you, for we shall never probably have another chance to see how a Newfoundland sealer kills his game. Only, if you please, let us have some sheath-knives, and four of your clubs.”
Merely saying, ”We shall be very glad of your help, for we have to leave two of our best men with the captain,” Blake spoke to an under-officer, who soon produced four sharp sheath-knives, and as many oaken clubs about six feet long, ringed at the top with iron, and furnished with a sharp hook, or gaff; and lowering their little craft, the four paddled stoutly after the fleet of boats, whose wild crews tore the water into foam with their oars, as each strove to reach the floes, and to ”win the first blood.”
Sixty men, besides La Salle's party, swept across the pool, almost flung their light boats upon the safe ice, and prevented from slipping by their spiked crampets, charged at full speed upon the frightened seals, who filled the air with their clamorous roars and whining. Crick, crack!
fell the heavy clubs on every side, and seldom was the stroke repeated; but sometimes an ”ould hood” would elevate his inflated helmet, and the heavy club would fall upon it, producing a hollow sound, that boomed high above the noise of the conflict. Then the officer in charge of that gang would step up, present his carbine, and the brave seal, shot through the brain, would fall back dead, as the report rattled among the ice-peaks.
Having disposed of the adults, a regular butchery took place among the young seals, who were easily despatched by a blow on the nose, or a kick with the heavy heel of a sealer's boot on the spinal vertebrae. Then followed the ”sculping,” or skinning, which was despatched with marvellous rapidity. At its close the men, covered with blood and oil, gathered to their boats, and leaving the floe crimsoned with gore, and horrible with b.l.o.o.d.y and skinless carca.s.ses, hastened to another field to continue the work of death.
Such for two days were the scenes presented to the eyes of the companions, who received many commendations for their a.s.sistance, but who rejoiced beyond measure when the word was pa.s.sed through the s.h.i.+p that she was ”full,” and that they were to sail at once for St. John's.
[Ill.u.s.tration]
Once more the black funnel poured forth its cloud of smoke, and casting off the lines which attached her to the surrounding ice, the Mercedes pressed boldly into the pack, and soon our adventurers gazed for the last time on the fading outlines of the Deadman's Berg.
Two days later, as the steamer rounded Cape Race, the captain, worn and weak, but evidently in his right mind, appeared at the table. On being introduced to La Salle, he seemed somewhat agitated, but soon a.s.sumed an overbearing and despotic demeanor. To Mr. Blake he was particularly insulting.
”I'll have you know, sir, that I am captain now; ay, and owner, too, sir, for my poor brother left neither chick nor child in the world but me. d.a.m.n me, sir! what right have you to invite everybody to my table and cabin? ay, and put a stranger into my brother's very state-room?”
Blake looked confounded, and the other officers sat with bowed heads and lowering brows at this insult to a man they all loved and respected; but La Salle unconcernedly turned to the newly-fledged commander, and said,--
”I regret, captain--really, I forget your name; but let that pa.s.s; but when I came on board, I told this gentleman that I would sleep forward with the men. I have not cared to speak about it before, but I can a.s.sure you that I have the worst dreams in that state-room that I ever had in my life. I shall try to recompense you for the pa.s.sage of my companions and myself when we arrive at St. John's;” and rising, he bowed haughtily, and withdrew to the deck.
Ten minutes later he was joined by Blake.
”The captain has apologized to us, and begs that you will come to his room, as he is too weak to leave the cabin.”
La Salle attended the good-hearted sailor to the inner cabin, where a mattress lay upon the table, and many appliances, among them a couple of broad bandages of stout canvas, bore witness to the severity of the captain's late illness. The sick man attempted to rise from his chair as he entered, but was evidently very weak, and La Salle interposed,--
”Don't rise, captain, I beg of you. I see you are very weak, and perhaps I was too ready to take offence. We should not always notice--”
”The disagreeable acts of a sick and almost heart-broken man,”