as did the attempts of both of them to keepwarm.
So hours elapsed, and sometimes sitting, sometimes standing and beatingfeet and hands for circulation's sake, and doing much talking, but neverdaring to leave the spot, at last says Rory, "Hullo, Ray! joy of joys!I've found a lucifer!"
Almost at the same moment he lit it. They could see each other'sfaces--see a watch, and notice it was nearly midnight. They hadregained sight! Joy and hope were at once restored.
"Troth!" said Rory, resuming his brogue, "it's myself could be a babyfor once and cry. Now what do ye say to try to sleep? We'll lie closetogether, you know, and it's warm we'll be in a jiffey?"
So down they lay, and, after ten long shivering minutes, heat came backto their frozen bodies. They had not been talking all this time; it isbut right to say they were better engaged.
With warmth came _le gaiete_--to Rory, at least.
"Have you wound your watch, Ray?"
"No, Row? and I wouldn't move for the world!"
After a pause, "Ray," says Row.
"Yes, Row?" says Ray.
"You always said you liked a big bed-room, Ray, and, troth, you've gotone for once!"
"How I envy you your spirits," answers Ray.
"Don't talk about spirits," says Row, "and frighten a poor boy. I'vecovered up my head, and I wouldn't look up for the world. I'm going torepeat myself to sleep. Good night."
"Good night," asks Ray, "but how do you do it?"
"Psalms, Ray," Row replies. "I know them all. I'll be out of here in amoment.
"`He makes me down to lie by pastures green, He leadeth me the quiet waters by.'
"Isn't that pretty, Ray?"
"Very, Row, but `pastures green' and `quiet waters' aren't much in myway. Repeat _me_ to sleep, Rory boy, and I promise you I won't pullyour ears again for a month."
"Well, I'll try," says Row. "Are your eyes shut?"
"To be sure. A likely thing I'd have them open, isn't it?"
"Then we're both going to a ball in old England."
"Glorious," says Ray. "I'm there already."
Then in slow, monotonous, but pleasing tones, Row goes on. He describesthe brilliant festive scene, the warmth, the light, the beauty and themusic, and the dances, and last but not least the supper table. It isat this point that our Saxon hero gives sundry nasal indications thatthis strange species of mesmerism had taken due effect, so Row leaveshim at the supper table, and goes back to his "pastures green" and"quiet waters," and soon they both are sound enough. Let us leave themthere; no need to watch them. Remember what Lover says in his beautifulsong,--
"O! watch ye well by daylight, For angels watch at night."
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Poor McBain! Worn out with watching, he had sunk at last to sleep inhis chair.
And day broke slowly on the sea of ice. The snow-clad crater's peak wasthe first to welcome glorious aurora with a rosy blush, which stolegradually downwards till it settled on the jagged mountain tips. Thenbears began to yawn and stretch themselves, the sly Arctic foxes creptforth from snow-banks, and birds in their thousands--brightest of allthe snowbird--came wheeling around the _Arrandoon_ to snatch an earlybreakfast ere they wended their way westward to fields of blood andphocal carnage.
And their screaming awoke McBain.
He was speedily on deck.
Yonder was the _Perseverando_ slowly descending.
During all the long cruise of the _Arrandoon_ nobody referred to theadventure at the crater of Jan Mayen without a feeling akin to sadnessand contrition, for all felt that something had been done which oughtnot to have been done--there had been, as McBain called it, "a temptingof Providence."
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"Well, well, well," cried the skipper of the _Canny Scotia_--and heseemed to be in anything but a sweet temper. "Just like my luck. I dodeclare, mate, if I'd been born a hatter everybody else would have beenborn without heads. Here have I been struggling away for years againstfortune, always trying to get a good voyage to support a small wife anda big family, and now that luck seems to have all turned in our favour,two glorious patches of seals on the ice yonder, a hard frost, and theice beautifully red with blood, and no ship near us, then you, mate,come down from the crow's-nest with that confoundedly long face ofyours, for which you ought to have been smothered at birth--"
"I can't help my face, sir," cried the mate, bristling up like a bantamcock.
"Silence!" roared the burly skipper. "Silence! when you talk to yourcaptain. You, I say, _you_ come and report a big steamer in sight tohelp us at the banquet."
The mate scratched his head, taking his hat off for the purpose.
"Did I make the ship?" he asked with naive innocence.
"Pooh!" the skipper cried; and next moment he was scrambling up therigging with all the elegance, grace, and speed of a mud turtle.
He was in a better humour when he returned.
"I say, matie," he said, "yonder chap ain't a sealer; too dandy, and notboats enough. No, she is one of they spectioneering kind o' chaps asgoes a prowling around lookin' for the North Pole. Ha! ha! ha! Comebelow, matie, and we'll have a glass together. She ain't the kind o'lady to interfere with our blubber-hunting."
The mate was mollified. His face was soaped, and he shone.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN.
THE "ARRANDOON" ANCHORS TO THE "FLOE"--THE VISIT TO THE "CANNY SCOTIA"--SILAS GRIG--A SAD SCENE--RORY RELIEVES HIS FEELINGS--STRANGERS COMINGFROM THE FAR WEST.
Seeing the skipper of the _Canny Scotia_ and his mate come belowtogether smiling, the steward readily guessed what they wanted, so hewas not dilatory in producing the rum-bottle and two tumblers. Then theskipper pushed the former towards the mate, and said,--
"Help yourself, matie."
And the mate dutifully and respectfully pushed it back again, saying,--
"After you, sir."
This palaver finished, they both half-filled their tumblers with theruby intoxicant, added thereto a modicum of boiling coffee from the urnthat simmered on top of the stove, then, with a preliminary nod towardseach other, emptied their glasses at a gulp. After this, gasping forbreath, they beamed on each other with a newly-found friendliness.
"Have another," said the skipper.
They had another, then went on deck.
After ten minutes of attentive gazing at the _Arrandoon_, "Well," saidthe skipper, "I do call that a bit o' pretty steering; if it ain't, myname isn't Silas Grig."
"But there's a deal o' palaver about it, don't you think so, sir?"remarked the mate.
"Granted, granted," assented Silas; "granted, matie."
The cause of their admiration was the way in which the _Arrandoon_ wasbrought alongside the great ice-floe. She didn't come stem on--as ifshe meant to flatten, her bows--and then swing round. Not she. Sheapproached the ice with a beautiful sweep, describing nearly half acircle, then, broadside on to the ice, she neared it and neared it.Next over went the fenders; the steam roared from the pipe upwards intothe blue air, like driven snow, then dissolved itself like the ghost ofthe white lady; the ship was stopped, away went the ice-anchors, thevessel was fast.
And no noise about it either. There may not be much seamanshipnow-a-days, but I tell you, boys, it takes a clever man to manage a bigsteamer prettily and well.
The _Arrandoon_ was not two hundred yards from the _Canny Scotia_. Nowround go the davits on the port quarter, outward swings the boat, menand officers spring nimbly into her, blocks rattle, and down goes thefirst whaler, reaching the water with a flop, but not a plash, and withkeel as even and straight as a ruled line.
"I say, matie," said Silas Grig, in some surprise, "if that boat ain'tcoming straight away here, I hope I may never chew cheese again."
So far as that was concerned, if Silas chose, he would at least have thechance of chewing cheese again, for the _Arrandoon's_ boat came rippling
along towards them with a steady cluck-el-tee cluck-el-tee, which spokewell for the men at the oars.
"Well," continued Silas, who, rough nut though he was, always meant wellenough, "let us do the civil, matie; tell the steward to fill therum-bottle, and pitch 'em a rope."
The rope came in very handy; but there was no need for the rum; even inGreenland men can live without it--the officers of the _Arrandoon_ hadfound that out.
McBain, with Allan and Rory,--the latter, by the way, seemed to haveregistered a vow to go everywhere and see everything,--stood on
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