we come up."
When the officers did come up they found all the men on the ice, and apretty row they were having. They were running, racing, jumping highleap and low leap, boxing, and fencing with single-sticks,quarter-staves, and foils; and last but not least, a party were dancingthe wild and exciting reels of Scotland, with Peter playing to them justas loudly as he knew how to, although his eyes seemed starting from hishead, and his face was as red as a dorking's comb in laying season.
Then it was "Hurrah for the ice-hole!" and "Hurrah for the sharks!"
Silas did not take very long to get his party--his fishing-party, as hecalled it--into working order. He evidently meant business, andexpected it, too. He had seven or eight long lines, to each of whichwas attached a piece of chain and an immense shark-hook. These werebaited with pieces of blubber; the men were armed with long knives andclubs. So sure was Silas Grig of capturing a big haul of thesesea-fiends, the Greenland sharks, that he had a large fire of woodlighted on the ice at some little distance, and over it, suspended by akind of shears, hung an immense cauldron. In this it was intended toboil the livers of the sharks in order to extract the oil, which is themost valuable part of the animal.
Until tempted by huge pieces of seal-flesh hardly a shark showed fin;but when once their appetites were wetted then--!
I cannot, nor will I attempt to describe this battle with the sharks,although such a fight I have been eyewitness to. Sometimes as many astwo were hauled out at once; it required the united strength of fifteenor twenty men to land them. Then came the struggle on the ice, theclubbing, the axing, and the death, during which many a man bit thesnow, though none were grievously wounded. Before the sun pointed tomidnight, between thirty and forty immense sharks had been captured, andthe oil from their livers weighed nearly a ton.
Poor Rory--to whom all the best of the fun and all the worst misfortunesseemed always to fall--had a terrible adventure during the battle.Carried away by his enthusiasm, with club in hand, he was engaging oneof the largest sharks landed. The brute bent himself suddenly, then assuddenly straightened himself out, and away went boy Rory, like an arrowfrom a cross-bow, alighting in the very centre of the pool. For amoment every one was struck dumb with horror!
But Rory himself never lost his presence of mind. He remembered whatSilas had said about splashing and kicking to keep the sharks at bay.Splash? I should think he did splash, and kick, too; indeed, kicking ishardly any name for his antics. He made a wheel of himself in thewater. He seemed all arms and legs, and as for his head, it was just asoften up as down, and _vice versa_; and all the while he was issuingorders to those on the bank--a word or two at a time, whenever his headhappened to be uppermost, so that in the midst of the splashing andspluttering his speech ran like this:
"Stand by"--(splutter, splutter)--"you fellows"--(splash, splash)--"upthere"--(splutter) "to pull quick"--(splash)--"as soon as!"--(splutter,splutter)--"catch the rope."--(splash, splash)--"Now lads,now!"--(splutter, splutter, splash, splash, splutter, splutter, splash).
"Hurrah!" he cried, when he found himself on the ice. "Hurrah! boys.Cheer, boys, cheer. Safe to bank! Hurrah! and both my legs as sound asa bell, and never a toe missing from any single one of the two o' them.Hurrah! Sure it's myself'll be Queen o' the May to-morrow. Hurrah!"
Yes, reader, the very next day was May-day, and on that day there aresuch doings on Greenland ships as you never see in England.
CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
MAY-DAY IN THE ARCTIC REGIONS.
May-day! May-day in England! Surely, even to the minds of the youngestamong us, these words bring some pleasant recollections.
"Ah! but," I think I hear you complain, "the May-days are not now whatthey were in the good old times; not the May-days we read of in books;not the May-days of merrie England. Where are the may-poles, with theircircles of rosy-cheeked children dancing gleesomely around them? Whereare the revels? Where are the games? Where is the little maidenpersistent, who plagued her mother so lest she should forget to wake andcall her early--
"`Because I'm to be Queen o' the May, mother, I'm to be Queen o' the May?'
"And echo answers, `Where?'"
These things, maiden included, have passed away; they have fled like thefairies before the shriek of engine and rattle of railway wheels.
But May-day in England! Why, there is some pleasure and some joy leftin it even yet. Summer comes with it, or promises it will soon be onthe wing. Already in the meadows the cattle wade knee-deep in dewygrass, and cull sweet cowslips and daisies. A balmier air breathes overthe land; the rising sun is rosy with hope; the lark springs from hisnest among the tender corn, and mounts higher to sing than he has everdone before; flowers are blooming on every brae; the mossy banks areredolent of wild thyme; roses begin to peep coyly out in the hedgerows,and butterflies spread their wings, as a sailor spreads a sail, and gofluttering away through the gladsome sunshine. And yonder--why, yonder_is_ a little maiden, and a very pretty one, too, though she isn't goingto be Queen o' the May. No, but she is tripping along towards theglade, where the pink-blossomed hawthorn grows, and the yellow scentedfurze. She is going to--
Bathe her sweet face in May-morn dew, To make her look lovely all the year through.
She glances shyly around her, hoping that no one sees her. You and I,dear reader, are far too manly to stand and stare so.
Hey! presto! and the scene is changed.
May-day! May-day in Greenland! An illimitable ocean of ice, stretchingaway on all sides towards every point of the compass from where thoseships are lying beset. It looks like some measureless wold covered withthe snows of midwinter. It is early morning, though the sun shinesbrightly in a sky of cloudless blue, and, save for the footfall of thesolitary watchman who paces the deck of the _Arrandoon_, there is not asound to be heard, the stillness everywhere is as the stillness ofdeath. An hour or two goes slowly by, then the watchman approaches thegreat bell that hangs amidships.
Dong-dong! dong-dong! dong-dong! dong-dong! Eight bells. The menspring up from hatch and companion-way, and soon the decks are crowdedand the crew are busy enough. They have discussed their breakfast longago, and have since been hard at work on the May-day garland, which theynow proceed to hoist on high, 'twixt fore and main masts. That garlandis quite a work of art, and a very gay one, too. Not a man in the shipthat has not contributed a few ribbons to aid in decorating it. Thoseribbons had been kept for this special purpose, and were the last lovinggifts of sisters, wives, or sweethearts ere the vessel set sail for thesea of ice. But there is more to be done than hoisting the garland.The ship has to be dressed, and when this is finished, with her flagsall floating around her, she will look as beautiful as a bride on hermarriage morning.
None the worse for the ducking and fright of the previous day, Rory wasfirst up on this particular May-day, and tubbed and dressed long beforeeither Allan or Ralph was awake.
"Get up, Ray!" cried Rory, entering his friend's cabin.
"Ray, _Ray_, Ray!"
The last "Ray" was shouted.
"Hullo! hullo!" cried Ray. "Oh! it's you, is it, Row? Is breakfast allready, old man?"
"Ray, arise, you lazy dog!" continued Row, shaking him by the shoulder."This is May-morning, Ray, and I'm to be Queen of the May, my boy, I'mto be Queen of the May!"
At half-past eight our heroes, Captain McBain included, went on deck ina body, and this was the time for the crew to cluster up the rigging,man the yards, and give voice to a ringing cheer; nay, not one cheeronly, but three times three; and hardly had the sound died away ere itwas taken up and re-echoed back by the crew of the _Canny Scotia_. Itseemed that Captain Cobb's cockle-shell was not to be left out of thefun either, for the crew of even that tiny craft must man the riggingand cheer, though after the lusty roar that had gone up from the otherships, their voices sounded like that of a chicken learning to crow.
After this, while the men went to work to rig a great platform on theupper deck, Peter, arraye
d in fullest Highland costume, played pibrochafter pibroch, and wild march after wild march, as he went strutting upand down the quarter-deck.
The decks were cleared of everything that could be removed, and a greattent erected from mizen to foremast; when this was lined with flagsthere was but little light, but lamps in clusters were hung here andthere, and a stove was brought up to give heat, so that the whole placewas as gay as could be, and comfortable as well.
At one end of the tent a platform was erected. There the piano wasplaced all handy, and Rory's fiddle and the doctor's flute, as well asseveral armchairs and a kind of a throne, the use of which will soon beseen. On the stage at one side was an immense tub nearly filled withcold, icy water; two steps led up to it, and on the edge thereof was arevolving chair. Very