Part 49 (1/2)

There was no getting over the impetuosity of this honest old sailor, but there was withal a freshness and happiness about him, which made every one he talked with feel as hopeful as he was himself. Before dinner was done both Mrs McGregor and her lovely daughter were smiling and laughing as they had not smiled or laughed for months before, and when Silas asked for a song, the latter went quite joyfully to the harp.

You see it appeared quite a foregone conclusion with everybody that night, that Silas would find the lost explorers and bring them safely home.

The moon rose in all its majesty as nine tolled forth from the clock-tower of the ancient castle. Then Silas said ”good-bye,” and, followed by many a blessing and many a prayer, the dogcart wound away up through the solemn pine forest, and was soon lost to view.

He was just as good as his word. He took command of his new s.h.i.+p--a splendid sea-going yacht--before noon next day. Almost immediately afterwards he summoned both officers and men and mustered them all aft, and somewhat startled them by the following curt speech: ”Gentlemen and men of the _Polar Star_, we'll sail to-morrow morning. We touch nowhere until we enter harbour here again. Any one that isn't ready to go can step on sh.o.r.e and stop there. All ready, eh? Bravo, men! You'll find your skipper isn't a bad fellow to deal with, but he means to crack on!

No s.h.i.+p that ever sailed 'twixt Pekin and London, no clipper that ever left Aberdeen, or yacht from New York city, ever did such cracking on as I mean to do. Go to your duty. Pipe down.”

Then Silas Grig inspected the s.h.i.+p. He was pleased with her get-up and her rig-out, only he ordered extra spars and extra sails, and these were all on board ere sundown.

”The old man means business,” said the first mate to the second.

”That he does!” replied the inferior officer.

The _Polar Star_ sailed away from Peterhead on the very day that poor Ted Wilson was laid in his grave beneath the eternal snows of Alba.

Could Silas have seen the desperate position of the _Arrandoon_ just then, how little hopes he would have entertained of ever reaching her in time to save the precious lives on board!

The doctor was left alone in the saloon of the great s.h.i.+p.

The silence that reigned both fore and aft was oppressive even to dismalness.

For a moment or two Sandy buried his face in his hands, and tears welled through his fingers. ”Oh,” he whispered, ”it is terrible! The silence of death is all about us! Our men dying forward, our captain doomed, and Allan and Rory. Ay, and poor Ralph will be next; I can see that in his face. Not one of us can ever reach his native land again! I envy-- yes, I envy the dead in their quiet graves, and even wish it were all past--all, all over?”

”Doctor!” a kindly hand was laid on his shoulder. Sandy started to his feet, he cared not who saw his face, wet though it was with tears.

”Doctor, don't you take on so,” said Stevenson.

”Speak, man I speak quick! There is hope in your face!” cried the doctor.

”There is hope in my heart, too,” said the mate--”only a glint, only a gleam; but it is there. The frost is gone; the ice is open again.”

”Then quick,” cried the surgeon, ”get up steam! that alone can save the dying. Energy, energy, and something to do. _I_ can do nothing more to save my patients while this hopeless silence lies pall-like around us.

Break it, dear mate, with the roar of steam and the rattle of the engine's screw!”

”Listen,” said the mate. ”There goes the steam. Our chief has not been long.”

Round went the screw once more, and away moved the s.h.i.+p.

Poor McBain came staggering from his cabin. Ghastly pale he looked. He had the appearance of one risen from the grave.

He clutched Sandy by the shoulder.

”We are--under--way?” he gasped.

”Yes, yes,” said the surgeon. ”Homeward bound, captain.”

”Homeward bound,” muttered the captain, pressing his hand on his brow, as if to recall his memory, which for a time had been unseated from her throne.

For a minute or two the surgeon feared for his captain's life or reason.