Part 27 (1/2)

”It isn't a s.h.i.+p,” said Rory, smiling; ”it is a great black seal, with a thing like a kettle-pot over his head.”

”Oho!” cried Silas; ”now I know. You mean the bladder-nose. Ay, lad!

and a dangerous monster he is. A Greenland sailor would almost as soon face a bear as fight one of those brutes single-handed.”

”But the books tell us,” said Rory, ”that, when surprised by the hunter, they weep copiously.”

”Bother such books!” said Silas. ”What? a bladder-nose weep!

Crocodile's tears, then, lad! Why, gentlemen, this monstrous seal is more fierce than any other I know. When once he gets his back up and erects that kettle-pot o' his, and turns round to see who is coming, stand clear, that's what Silas says, for he means mischief, and he's as willing to take his death as any terrier dog that ever barked. I would like to see some o' those cyclopaedia-building chaps face to face with a healthy bladder-nose on a bit o' bay ice. I think I know which o' them would do the weeping part of the business.”

”Down south here,” said McBain--”if we can call it south--the seals have their young on the ice, don't they?”

”You're right, sir,” said Silas.

”And where do they go after that?”

”Away back to the far, far north,” said Silas. ”We follow them up as far as we can. They live at the Pole.”

”Ah!” said McBain; ”and that, Captain Grig, is in itself a proof that there must be open water around the Pole.”

”I haven't a doubt about it!” cried Silas; ”and if you succeed in getting there you'll see land and water too, mountains and streams, and maybe a milder climate. Seals were never made to live down in the dark water; they have eyes and lungs, even, if they are amphibious. But look! look! look, men, look!”

Silas started up from the table as he spoke, excitement expressed in every lineament of his face. He pointed to the port from which at present the _Canny Scotia_ was plainly visible, about half a mile off, on the weather quarter. The men could be seen crowding up the rattlings, and even manning the yards, and wildly waving their caps and arms in the air.

Silas threw the port open wide. ”Listen!” he cried.

Our heroes held their breath, while over the water from the distant barque came the sound of many voices cheering. Then the _Arrandoon's_ rigging is manned, and glad shout after glad shout is sent them back.

Next moment Stevenson rushed into the cabin. ”The seals! the seals!”

was all he could say, or rather gasp.

”Are there many?” inquired several voices at once.--”Millions on millions!” cried the mate; ”the whole pack is black with them as far as ever we can see from the mainmast head.”

CHAPTER TWENTY.

SEAL-STALKING--A GLORIOUS DAY'S SPORT--PIPER PETER AND THE BEAR--A STRANGE DUET--THE SEAL-STALKERS' RETURN.

It was about midnight on the 24th of April when the seals were sighted.

Midnight, and the sun was low down on the horizon, but, for three long months, never more would it set or sink behind the sea of ice. The weather was bright, bracing, beautiful. Not a cloud in the sky, and hardly wind enough to let the s.h.i.+ps get well in through the pack, towards the place where the seals lay as thick as bees, and all unconscious of their approaching fate. But the _Arrandoon_ got steam up, and commenced forcing her way through the closely packed yet loosely floating bergs, leaving behind her a wake of clear water, which made it easy work for the _Scotia_ and the saucy little ”two-stick yacht” to follow her example.

My young reader must dismiss from his mind the idea of tall, mountainous, pinnacled icebergs, like those he sees in common engravings. The ice was in heavy pieces, it is true, from forty to sixty or seventy feet square, and probably six feet out of water, with hummocks here and there, and piles of bay ice that looked like packs of gigantic cards, but so flat and low upon the whole, that from the masthead a stretch of snow-clad ice could be seen, spreading westwards and north for many and many a mile.

When even the power of steam failed to force the _Arrandoon_ farther into the pack, the s.h.i.+ps were stopped, fires were banked and sails were clewed, and all hands prepared for instant action. The men girt their knives and steels around them, and threw their ”Jowrie-tows” across their broad shoulders, and the officers, dressed in their sealing costume, seized their rifles and shot-belts.

Next moment the bo's'n's shrill pipe sounded out in the still air, and the order was shouted,--

”All hands over the side.”

In five minutes more the s.h.i.+ps were apparently deserted. You wouldn't have heard a sound on board, for few were left but stewards and cooks; while little boy Freezing Powders and his wonderful c.o.c.katoo had it all to themselves down in the saloon of the great steams.h.i.+p. The boy was bending down beside his favourite in the corner.

”What's the row? What's the row? What's the row?” the bird was saying.