Part 22 (1/2)

While those two chiefs of the Eskimo Indians were hurrying their team of dogs across the sea of ice eastwards, ever eastwards, with the clouds rising behind them, with the wind whispering and moaning around them, and sometimes raising the powdery snow in little angry eddies, that almost hid the plunging dogs from their view, honest Silas Grig, though somewhat uneasy in his mind as to what kind of weather was brewing, busied himself nevertheless in preparing what he considered a splendid dinner for his coming guests.

”But,” he said to his mate, ”it will just be like my luck, you know, if it comes on to blow big guns, and we've got to leave good cheer and put out to sea.”

”Ah! sir,” said the mate, ”don't forget luck has turned, you know.”

”Ha! ha! ha!” laughed Silas, ”really, matie, I _had_ a'most forgotten.”

And away forward he hurried, to see how the men were getting on scrubbing decks and cleaning bra.s.s-work, and how the cook was getting on with that mighty sirloin of beef. He took many a ran forward as the day advanced, often pausing, though, to give an uneasy glance windward, and at the sun, not yet hidden by the rising clouds. And often as he did so he shook his head and made some remark to his mate.

”I tell ye, matie,” he said once, ”I don't quite like the looks o' 't.

Those clouds ain't natural this time o' the year, and don't you see the spots in the sun? Why, he is holed through and through like an old Dutch cheese. Something's brewin'. But, talking of brewin', I wonder how the soup is getting on?” [In Greenland these sunspots are quite easily seen by the naked eye.]

Silas's face was more the colour of a new flower-pot than ever, when McBain and our three heroes came alongside in their das.h.i.+ng gig, with its beautiful paint and varnish, snow-white oars, flag trailing astern, and rudder-ribbons, all complete.

Rory was steering, and he brought her alongside with a regular admiral's sweep.

”Why, she's going away past us!” cried Silas; ”no, she ain't. It is the bow-and-bow business the young 'un's after.”

”In bow?” cried Rory. ”Way enough--oars!”

These were the only three orders Rory needed to give to his men. There was no shouting of ”Easy sta'board!” or ”Easy port!” as when a lubber is c.o.xswain.

Next moment they were all on deck, shaking hands with the skipper and his mate. The latter remained on deck; he didn't care for the company of ”quality;” besides, he had to loosen sails, and have all ready to get in anchors at a minute's notice and put out to sea.

The skipper of the _Canny Scotia_ had contrived another seat at table, so there was no such thing as crowding, and the dinner pa.s.sed off entirely to his satisfaction. The pea-soup was excellent, neither too thick nor too thin, and the sippets done to a turn. Then came what Silas called the whitebait.

”Which is only my fun, gentlemen,” he observed, ”seeing that they are bigger than sprats. Where do I get them? Hey? Why, turn up a piece of pancake-ice, and there they be sticking in the clear in hundreds, like bees in a honeycomb, and nothing out but their bits of tails.”

”It is curious,” said Rory. ”How do they bore the holes, I wonder?”

”That, young gentleman,” replied Silas, ”I can't say, never having seen them at work. Maybe they melt the ice with their noses; they can't make the holes with their teeth, their bows are too blunt and humble like.

Perhaps, after all, they find the holes ready-made, and just go in for warmth. Queer, ain't it?”

”I believe,” said Rory, ”they belong to the natural order _Malacopterygii_.”

”The what?” cried Ralph; ”but, pray, Row, don't repeat the word. Think of the small bones; and McFlail isn't here, you know.”

”Of which,” continued Rory, ”the _Clupeidae_” [Ralph groaned] ”form one of the families, belonging to which are the herring, the sardine, the whitebait, and sprat.”

”They may be sprats, or they may be young sperm-whales, for anything I care,” said Ralph; ”but I do know they are jolly good eating. Captain Grig, may I trouble you again?”

With the pudding came the green ginger, that Ralph was so anxious to taste.

”The peculiarity of that pudding, gentlemen, is this,” said Silas--”eaten hot it _is_ a pudding, eaten cold it is a bun. The peculiarity of the green--”

What more he meant to have said will never be known, for at that moment the _Canny Scotia_ gave an angry cant to leeward, and away--extemporised seat and all--went the skipper down upon the sta'board bulkheads; the coalscuttle, the water-bucket, and the big armchair followed suit, and there was consequently some little confusion, and a speedy break-up of the dinner-party.

McBain's boat was called away, for the s.h.i.+p had slipped her ice-anchors, and was drifting seaward, with the wind roaring wildly through rigging and cordage. The gale had come upon them as sudden as a thunderclap.

Good-byes were hastily said, and away pulled the gig. She was in the lee of the ice and partly sheltered, otherwise they never would have regained the _Arrandoon_. As it was, the men were almost exhausted when they got alongside.