thequarter-deck of the _Canny Scotia_, the skipper of which craft was infront of him, a comical look of admiration on his round brick-colouredcountenance, and his two hands deep in the pockets of his powerful pilotcoat.
"Ay, sir! ay!" he was saying; "well, I must say ye do surprise _me_."
He put such an emphasis on the "me" that one would have thought that tosurprise Silas Grig was something to be quite boastful of ever after.
"All the way to the North Pole? Well, well; but d'ye think you'll findit?"
"We mean to," said Rory, boldly.
"Perseverando!" said Allan.
"The _Perseverance_!" cried the skipper. "I know the ship, aPeterheader. Last time I saw her she had got in the nips, and was lyingkeel up on the ice, yards and rigging all awry of course; and, botherher, I hope she'll lie there till Silas Grig gets a voyage [a cargo],then when the _Scotia_ is full ship, the _Perseverance_ can get down offthe shelf, and cabbage all the rest. Them's my sentiments. But comebelow, gentlemen, come below; there is room enough in the cabin of theold _Scotia_ for every man Jack o' ye. Come below."
Silas was right. There was room, but not much to spare, and, squeezedin between Allan and McBain, poor Rory was hardly visible, and couldonly reach the table with one hand.
The cabin of this Greenlandman can be described with a stroke of thepen, so to speak. It was square and not very lofty--a tall man requiredto duck when under a beam; the beams were painted white, the bulkheadsand cabin doors--four in number--were grey picked out with green.One-half at least of the available space was occupied by the table;close around it were cushioned lockers; the only other furniture was thecaptain's big chair and a few camp-stools, a big square stove with aroaring fire, and a big square urn fixed on top thereof, which containedcoffee, had never been empty all the voyage, and would not be till theend thereof. I suppose a bucket of water could hardly be calledfurniture, but there it stood close to the side of the stove, and theconcentric rings of ice inside it showed the difficulty everybody mustexperience who chose to quench his thirst in the most natural waypossible.
Above, in the hollow of the skylight, hung a big compass, and severalenormously long sealer's telescopes.
"No rum, gentlemen?" said Silas; "well, you do astonish _me_; but you'lltaste my wife's green ginger wine, and drink her health?"
"That we will," replied McBain, "and maybe finish a bottle."
"And welcome to ten," said Silas; "and the bun, steward, bring the bun.That's the style! My wife isn't much to look at, gentlemen, but, for abun or o' drop o' green ginger, I'll back her against the whole world."
After our heroes had done justice to the bun, and pledged the skipper'sgood lady in the green ginger, that gentleman must needs eye them againand again, with as much curiosity as if they had been some new andwonderful zoological specimens, that he had by chance captured.
"All the way to the North Pole!" he muttered. "Well, well, but that_does_ get over Silas."
Rory could not help laughing.
"Funny old stick," said Silas, joining in his merriment, "ain't I?"
He did look all that and more, with his two elbows on the table, and hisknuckles supporting his chin, for his face was as round as a full moonorient, and just the colour of a new flower-pot; then he laughed morewith one side of his face than the other, his eyes were nowhere in thefolds of his face, and his nose hardly worth mentioning.
After the laugh, beginning with Rory, had spread fairly round the table,everybody felt relieved.
"I'm only a plain, honest blubber-hunter, gentlemen," said Silas Grig,apologetically, "with a large family and--and a small wife--but--but youdo surprise _me_. There?"
[It is but fair to say that, as a rule, captains of Greenlandmen are farmore refined in manner than poor Silas.]
But when McBain informed him that the _Arrandoon_ would lay alongsidehim for a week or more, and help him to secure a voyage, and wouldn'tship a single skin herself, Silas was more surprised than ever. Indeed,until this day I could not tell you what would have happened to Silas,had the mate not been providentially beside him to vent his feelingsupon. On that unfortunate officer's back he brought down his greatshoulder-of-mutton fist with a force that made him jump, and his breathto come and go as if he had just been popped under a shower-bath.
"Luck's come," he cried. "Hey? hey?"
And every "hey?" represented a dig in the mate's ribs with the skipper'sthumb of iron.
"Told ye it would, hey? Didn't I? hey?"
"What'll the old woman say, hey? Hey, boys? Hey, matie? Hey? Hey?"
"You gentlemen," said Silas, alter his feelings had calmed down atrifle, "are all for sport, and Silas has to make a voyage. But you'llhave sport, gentlemen, that ye will. My men are sealing now. They'reamong the young seals. It has been nothing but flay, flay, flay, forthe last two rounds of the sun, and there isn't such a very long nightnow, is there? And you saw the blood?"
Saw the blood, reader! Indeed, our heroes had. Where was it that thatblood was not? All the beautiful snow was encrimsoned with it on thedistant field of ice, where the men were carrying on their ghastly work.It was as if a great battle had been fought there, and the dead crangslay in dozens and hundreds. A crang means a carcass. Is the adjective"dead," then, not unnecessary? What else can a carcass or crang be but"dead"? Nay, but listen: let me whisper a truth in your ear, and I knowyour brave young blood will boil when I tell you: I've known our men,Englishmen and Scotchmen, flense the lambs while still alive.
From the field of slaughter the skins were being dragged to the ship bymen with ropes, so there were streaks of red all the way to the ship,and all the vessel's starboard side was smeared with blood. Indeed, Ido not wish to harrow the feelings of my readers, and I shall butdescribe a few of the cruelties of sealing--no, on second thoughts, Iwill not even do that, because I know well you will believe me when Itell you these cruelties are very great, and believing this, if ever youhave an opportunity of voting for a bill or signing a petition to getpoor Greenland seals fair play, I know you will.
Silas Grig and our heroes took a walk to the field of unequal strife,and Rory and Allan, to whom all they saw was very new, were not a littlehorrified as well as disgusted.
"This," said McBain, "is the young-sealing. We are not going to assistyou in this; we are sportsmen, not butchers, Captain Grig?"
Silas grasped McBain's hand. "Your feelings do you credit, sir," hesaid--"they do. But I have feelings, too. Yes, a weather-beaten oldstick like me has feelings! But I'm sent out here to make a voyage, andwhat can I do? I've a small wife and a large family; and my owners,too, would sack me if I didn't bring the skins. I say," he added, aftera pause, "you know my mate?"
"Yes," said McBain.
"Well," said Silas, "you wouldn't, imagine that a fellow with such anugly chunk o' a figure-head as that had feelings, eh? But he has,though; and during all this young-sealing business we both of us justdrowns our feelings in the rum-bottle. Fact, sir! and old Silas scornsa lie. But, gentlemen, when all this wicked work is over, when we areaway north from here, among the old seals, and when we can look at thatsun again without seeing blood, then my matie and I banishes Black-Jack[the gallon measure from which rum is served is so called] and sticks tocoffee and arrowroot; that we do!"
They had turned their backs on the by no means inviting scene, and werewalking towards the _Canny Scotia_ as Silas spoke.
"But," said the Greenland mariner, "come and dine with the old manto-morrow. The last of the young seals will be on board by then, andwe'll have had a wash down; we'll be clean and tidy like. Then hurrahfor the old seals! That's sport, if you like!--that's fair play."
"Ah!" said McBain, "your heart is in the right place, I can see that. Iwish there were more like you. Do _you_ seal on Sunday? Many do."
Silas looked solemn. "I knows they do," he said, "but Silas hasn't doneso yet, and he prays he never may be tempted to."
"Captain Grig, we'll come and dine with you, and we e
xpect you to pay usthe same compliment another day."
"I daresay you fellows are glad to get home?" said Ralph, rising fromthe sofa and throwing down the volume he had been dreaming over.
"Not a bit of it!" said Rory and Allan, both in one breath; and Roryadded, "You don't know what a funny ship a real Greenlandman is! Ideclare you've lost a treat!"
"Does it smell badly?" asked Ralph, with a slight curl of his upperlip.
"Never a taste!" says Rory; "she's as