.. -*- encoding: utf-8 -*-

.. meta::
   :PG.Id: 39729
   :PG.Title: Courage, True Hearts
   :PG.Released: 2012-05-18
   :PG.Rights: Public Domain
   :PG.Producer: Al Haines
   :DC.Creator: Gordon Stables
   :DC.Title: Courage, True Hearts
              Sailing in Search of Fortune
   :DC.Language: en
   :DC.Created: 1909
   :coverpage: images/img-cover.jpg

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COURAGE, TRUE HEARTS
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   .. _`Cover`:

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      Cover

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   .. _`WITH IT FELL CONAL!  *Page* 162`:

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      :alt: WITH IT FELL CONAL!  *Page* 162

      WITH IT FELL CONAL!  *Page* 162

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   Courage, True Hearts

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   Sailing in Search of Fortune

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   BY

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   GORDON STABLES

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  Author of "The Naval Cadet" "For Life and Liberty"
  "To Greenland and the Pole" &c.

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   |   "I've wandered east, I've wandered west,
   |     Through many a weary way;
   |   But never, never can forget
   |     The love of life's young day."

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   BLACKIE & SON LIMITED

   LONDON AND GLASGOW

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   The Peak Library

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   *Books in this Series*

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   Overdue.  Harry Collingwood.
   The Dampier Boys.  E. M. Green.
   The King's Knight.  G. I. Whitham.
   Their London Cousins.  Lady Middleton.
   The White Witch of Rosel.  E. E. Cowper.
   Freda's Great Adventure.  Alice Massie.
   Courage, True Hearts!  Gordon Stables.
   Stephen goes to Sea.  A. O. Cooke.
   Under the Chilian Flag.  Harry Collingwood.
   The Islanders.  Theodora Wilson Wilson.
   Margery finds Herself.  Doris A. Pocock.
   Cousins in Camp.  Theodora Wilson Wilson.
   Far the sake of his Chum.  Walter C. Rhoades.
   An Ocean Outlaw.  Hugh St. Leger.
   Boys of the Priory School.  F. Coombe.
   Jane in Command.  E. E. Cowper.
   Adventures of Two.  May Wynne.
   The Secret of the Old House.  E. Everett Green.

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   *Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow*

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   CONTENTS.


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      BOOK I.

      IN SCOTTISH WILDS AND LONDON STREETS.

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   CHAP.

   I.  `Hope told a Flattering Tale`_
   II.  `Hurrah for "Merrie England"!`_
   III.  `The Boys' Life in London`_
   IV.  `Wild Sports on Moorland and Ice`_
   V.  `A Highland Blizzard--The Lost Sheep and Shepherd`_
   VI.  `"The breath of God was over all the land"`_
   VII.  `The Parting comes at last`_


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      BOOK II.

      THE CRUISE OF THE *FLORA M'VAYNE*.

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   I.  `The Terrors of the Ocean`_
   II.  `A Fearful Experience`_
   III.  `Bound for Southern Seas of Ice`_
   IV.  `On the Wings of the Wind`_
   V.  `Johnnie Shingles and Old Mr. Pen`_
   VI.  `"Back water all!  For life, boys, for life!"`_
   VII.  `"Here's to the loved ones at home"`_
   VIII.  `Captain Talbot spins a Yarn`_
   IX.  `Tongues of Lurid Fire--Blue, Green, and Deepest Crimson`_
   X.  `So poor Conal must Perish!`_
   XI.  `Thus Hand in Hand the Brothers Sleep`_
   XII.  `Winter Life in an Antarctic Pack`_
   XIII.  `A Chaos of Rolling and Dashing Ice`_
   XIV.  `"Heave, and she goes!  Hurrah!"`_
   XV.  `The Isles of Desolation`_


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      BOOK III.

      IN THE LAND OF THE NUGGET AND DIAMOND.

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   I.  `Shipwreck on a Lonely Isle`_
   II.  `A Weary Time`_
   III.  `Children of the Sky`_
   IV.  `Treasure-hunters.  The Forest`_
   V.  `Fighting the Gorillas`_
   VI.  `An Invading Army--Victory!`_
   VII.  `The Mysterious Stone`_
   VIII.  `The Battle at the Ford`_
   IX.  `The very Identical Bird`_
   X.  `The Welcome Home`_

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.. _`Hope told a flattering tale`:

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   BOOK I

   IN SCOTTISH WILDS AND LONDON STREETS

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CHAPTER I--HOPE TOLD A FLATTERING TALE
======================================

Had you been in the beautiful and wild forest
of Glenvoie on that bright and blue-skied
September morning--on one of its hills, let us
say--and heard the music of those two boys' voices
swelling up towards you, nothing that I know of
could have prevented you from joining in.  So joyous,
so full of hope were they withal, that the very tune
itself, to say nothing of the words, would have sent
sorrow right straight away from your heart, if there
had been any to send.

   |   "Cheer, boys, cheer, no more of idle sorrow,
   |     Courage, true hearts, shall bear us on our way;
   |   Hope flies before, and points the bright to-morrow,
   |     Let us forget the dangers of to-day."

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There was a pause just here, and from your elevated
situation on that rocky pap, looking down, you would
have rested your eyes on one of the prettiest rolling
woodland scenes in all broad Scotland.

It was a great waving ocean of foliage, and the
sunset of autumn was over it all, lying here and there in
patches of crimson, brown, and yellow, which the solemn
black of pine-trees, and the funereal green of dark
spruces only served to intensify.

Flap-flap-flap! huge wood-pigeons arise in the
air and go sailing over the woods.  They are frightened,
as well they may be, for a moment afterwards two
guns ring out almost simultaneously, and so still is the
air that you can hear the dull thud of fallen game.

"Hurrah, Conal!  Why, that was a splendid shot!
I saw you take aim."

"No, Duncan, no; the bird is yours.  You fired first."

"Only at random, brother.  But come, let us look
at him.  What a splendid creature!  Do you know,
Conal, I could almost cry for having killed him."

"Oh! so could I, Duncan, for that matter, but the
capercailzie[1] is game, mind, and won't father be pleased.
Why do they call it a wild turkey?"

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[1] The letter "z" not pronounced in Scotch.

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"Because it isn't a turkey.  That is quite sufficient
reason for a gamekeeper.  The capercailzie is the
biggest grouse there is, you know, and sometimes
weighs very many pounds."

"And didn't we find the nest of one in a spruce
tree last spring."

"Ay, and six eggs that we didn't touch; and I've
never put any faith again in that ignoramus of a book,
that would have us believe the birds always build on
the bare ground."

"Written by an Englishman, no doubt, Duncan, who
had never placed a foot on our native heath.  But
now let us get back to breakfast.  I wonder where our
little sister Flora is."

"I heard her gun about ten minutes ago; she can't
be far off.  Besides Viking is with her, so she is safe
enough.  Give the curlew's scream and she'll soon
appear."

   |   "Like the wild scream of the curlew,
   |   From crag to crag the signal flew."

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Duncan threw down his gun beside the dead game,
and, placing his fingers in his mouth, gave a perfect
imitation of this strange bird's cry:

"Who-o-o-eet, who-o-o-eet (these in long-drawn
notes, then quicker and quicker), who-eet, who-eet,
wheet, wheet, wheet, wheet, who-ee!"

The boys did not have long to wait for an answer.
For Duncan, the elder, who was about sixteen, with a
stalwart well-knit frame, and even a budding
moustachelet, had hardly finished, when far down in a dark
spruce thicket sounded the barking of a dog, which
could only belong to one of a very large breed.

He entered the glade in which the brothers stood
not many seconds after.  He entered with a joyous
bound and bark, his great shaggy coat, black as the
raven's wing, afloat on his shoulders and back; his
white teeth flashing; and a yard or two, more or less,
of a red ribbon of a tongue hanging out of his mouth.

Need I say he was a noble Newfoundland.

He stopped short and looked at the 'cailzie, then
snuffed at it, and immediately after licked his master's
cheek.  To do so he had to put a paw on each of
Duncan's shoulders, and his weight nearly bore him to
the ground.

But see, here comes little Flora herself--she is only
twelve; her brothers are both dressed in the kilt of
hill tartan, and Flora's frock is but a short one,
showing to advantage a pair of batten legs encased in
galligaskins; fair hair, streaming like a shower of gold
over her shoulders; blue eyes, and a lively very pretty
face.  But across that independent wee nose of hers is
quite a bridge of freckles, which extends half-way
across her cheeks.

Now a child of her tender years would, in many
parts of England, be treated quite as a child.  It was
quite the reverse at Glenvoie.  Flora was in reality a
little model of wisdom, and many a bit of good advice
she gave her brothers--not that they bothered taking
it, though both loved her dearly.

Flora carried a little gun--a present from her father,
who was very proud of her exploits and worldly
wisdom, and across her shoulders was slung a bag,
which appeared to be well filled.

"Hillo, Siss!" cried Duncan.  "Any cheer?"

"Oh, yes, three wild pigeons!  But what a lovely
great wild turkey!  I'm sure, Duncan, it was a pity to
kill him!"

"Sport, Sissie, sport!" said Duncan.

Yet as he looked at the splendidly plumaged bird
which his gun had laid low in death, he smothered a
sigh.  He half repented now having killed the 'cailzie.

Homeward next, for all were hungry, and in the
old-fashioned hall of the house of Glenvoie breakfast
would be waiting for them.  Through the forest dark
and deep, across a wide and clear brown stream by
stepping-stones, a stream that in England would be
called a river, then on to a broad heathy moorland,
with here and there a cottage and little croft.

Poor enough these were in all conscience, but they
afforded meal and milk to the owners and their children.
Chubby-cheeked hardy little chaps these were.  They
ran to gate or doorway to greet our young heroes with
cheers shrill and many, and Flora smiled her sweetest
on them.  Neither stockings nor shoes nor caps had
they, winter or summer, and when they grew up
many of them would join the army, and be first in
every bayonet charge where tartans would wave and
bonnets nod.

Laird M'Vayne himself came to the porch to meet
his children.  These were all he had, and their mother
was an invalid.

An excellent specimen of the Highland laird was
this Chief M'Vayne.  As sturdy and strong in limb as
a Hercules, broad in shoulder, and though sixty years
and over, as straight as an arrow.  His was a fearless
face, but handsome withal, and he never looked better
than when he smiled.  Smiling was natural to him,
and came straight from the heart, lighting up his
whole face as morning sunshine lights the sea.

"Better late than never, boys.  What ho! a capercailzie!"

Then he placed his hand so kindly on Duncan's shoulder.

"It was a good shot, I can see," he said, "and now
we won't kill any more of these splendid birds.  I
want the woods to swarm with them."

"No, father," said Duncan, "this is the last, and I
shall send to Glasgow for eyes, and stuff and set him
up myself."

Then the Laird hoisted Flora, gun, game-bag and all,
right on top of his broad left shoulder and carried her
inside, while Viking, enjoying the fun, made house and
"hallan" ring with his gladsome barking.

Ever see or partake of a real Highland breakfast,
reader?  A pleasure you have before you, I trust.
And had you been at Glenvoie House on this particular
morning, the very sight of that meal would have
given you an appetite, while partaking of it would
have made you feel a man.

That was real porridge to begin with, a little lake
of butter in the centre of each plate and creamy milk
to flank it.  Different indeed from the clammy,
saltless saucers of poultice Englishmen shiver over of a
morning at hotels, making themselves believe they are
partaking of Scotia's own *own* dish.

All did justice to the porridge, and Viking had a
double allowance.  There was beautiful mountain
trout to follow, cold game, and fresh herrings with
potatoes.  Marmalade and honey with real oat-cakes
finished the banquet.

About this time, gazing across the lawn from the
great window, Duncan could see the runner bringing
the post-bag.  Runner he might well be called.  He
had come twenty miles that morning with the mails,
trotting all the way.

Duncan threw open the window, and with a smile
and order for postie to go round to the kitchen for a
"piece" and a "drink", he received the bag.

The arrival of the runner was always one of the
chief events of the day, for the Laird "let" his
shootings every season, and had friends in every part of
the kingdom.

So had the boys.

"Ah!" said their father, opening a letter which he
had reserved to the last.  "Here is one from our
distant relative, Colonel Trelawney."

"Oh! do read it out," cried Flora impulsively.

Her father obeyed, as all dutiful fathers do when
they receive a command from juvenile daughters.

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"*Maida Vale, London.*

"*My dear 42nd cousin,--I think that is about our
relationship.  Well, I was never good at counting kin,
so we must let it stand at that.  Heigho!  That is my
42nd sigh since breakfast time, and it isn't the
luncheon hour yet.  But I couldn't quite tell you what
I am sighing for; I think it must be for the
Highland moors around you, on which I enjoyed so
glorious a time in August.  Heigho!  (43rd).  Your
hills must still be clad in the crimson and purple
glory of heath and heather whence scattered coveys or
whirring wings spring skywards (Poetry!).*

"*Well now, I've got something to propose.  Since his
poor mother died, my boy Frank--fifteen next
birthday, you know--has not seemed to thrive well.  He is
a capital scholar, and is of a very inventive turn of
mind.  He delights in the country, and when he and
I bike away down into the greenery of fields and
woods he always looks better and happier.  But at
home he has nothing to look at that is natural--a few
misshapen trees only, a shaven lawn, evergreens, and
twittering sparrows.*

"*He is lively enough, and plays the fiddle
charmingly.  He is only a London lad after all, and his
pale face bears witness to the fact.*

"*Well, cousin, fair exchange is no robbery.  Send
me your two boys up here to spend the winter, and
then I'll send the whole three down to you to put in
the spring and summer.  Expected results?  Is that
what you ask, cousin mine?  Well, they are these.  A
little insight into London life will assist in toning
down the fiery Highland exuberance of your brave
lads, and will help to make them young men of the
world.  While a spell among your Highland hills
shall put more life-blood into my boy, and make him
stronger, braver, and heartier.*"

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"Ha! ha! ha!" laughed Duncan.  "He is going to
civilize us, is he, daddy dear?  We'll have to wear
frock-coats, long hats and long faces, and carry
umbrellas.  What do you think of that, Conal?"

"Why," said Conal disdainfully, "umbrellas are only
for old wives and Sassenachs.  The plaid for me."

"And me!"

"Well, but listen," said the Laird laughing.

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"*Your boys,*" says the colonel, "*must come to us
dressed in their hill-tartan kilts, and have dress
tartans to wear at evening parties.  The English are
fond of chaffing the Scot, but, mind you, they love
him all the same, and can quite appreciate all the
deeds of derring-do he accomplishes on the field of
battle, as well as his long-business-headedness on the
Stock Exchange.  Heigho! (sigh the 44th), had I been
a Scot I'd have been a richer man to-day instead of
having to maintain a constant fight to keep the wolf
from the door.  But you, dear cousin, must be fairly
wealthy.*"

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It was Laird M'Vayne's turn to sigh now, for alas! he
was far indeed from rich, and, young as they were,
both his boys knew it.  And between you and me and
the binnacle, reader, the lads used to pray every night,
that Heaven might enable them when they came to
man's estate, or even before, to do something for the
parents who had been so good to them.

.. vspace:: 2

"*Well,*" the letter ran on, "*I sha'n't say any more,
only you will let the laddies (that is Scotch, isn't it?)
come, won't you, cousin? and if we can only find out
the time of the boat's arrival, Frank and I shall be at
the dock waiting for them.*"

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"Hurrah!" cried Duncan,

"Hurrah!" cried Conal.

"And you won't be sorry to leave me and the old
home, will you?" said M'Vayne.

"Oh, indeed, indeed we will, daddy," cried Duncan,
"and we'll think about you all and pray for you too,
every day and night.  Won't we, Conal?"

"Of course we will."

Then the younger lad went and threw his arms
round his father's neck, leaned his cheek against his
breast, in truly Celtic fashion, and there were tears in
his eyes.

"Besides," said Duncan, "the change will do us such
a heap of good, and by all we read London must be
the grandest place in the whole wide world."

"Streets paved with gold, eh?  Houses tiled with
sheets of solid silver that glitter daily in the noonday
sun.  No poverty, no vice, no crime in London.  Is
that your notion of London, my son?"

"Well," replied Duncan laughing, "it may not be
quite so bright as all that, daddy, but I am sure of
one thing."

"Yes?"

"If the streets are not paved with gold, nor the
houses tiled with silver, there is money to be made in
the city by any honest business Scot who cares to
work and wants to win."

"Bravo, Duncan!

   |   "In the lexicon of youth which fate reserves
   |   For a bright manhood, there is no such word as Fail."

----

For the next two or three weeks, although the boys
with their plucky little sister went every day either
to the hill or woods to shoot, or to the burn to fish,
there was very little talked about except the coming
excursion to the great city of London.

Mrs. M'Vayne was at present confined to her room,
and, being nervous, the thought of losing her boys
even for a short four or five months made her heart
feel sad indeed, and it took them all their time to
reassure her.

"No, no, lads," she would cry almost petulantly; "I
cannot be happy until I see you in the glen once more,
safe and sound!"

Two weeks passed--oh, ever so quickly--away, and
the last week was to be devoted wholly and solely to
the packing of trunks, a very pleasurable and
hopeful employment indeed.

Duncan was *facile princeps* at this work, and he
kept a note-book always near, so that whenever he
thought about anything he might need, he wrote it
down--just as if it had not been possible to get every
article he might require in great London, from a needle
to an anchor.

Only, as he told his brother Conal, "It is far better
to be sure than sorry."

Well, the last day--the last sad day--came round
at last and farewells had to be said on both sides.

Mrs. M'Vayne kept up as well as she could, and so
did the boys.  *Noblesse oblige*, you know, for although
their father was but a Highland laird, and poor at
that, he was connected by blood with the chiefs of
the best clans in Scotland.

Poor honest Viking had watched the packing with
the very greatest of interest, and so sad did he appear
that Duncan and Conal made up their minds to take
him with them.  And when they told him so, there
really was not a much happier dog in all the British
islands.  For Viking was wise beyond compare, and
there was very little, indeed, that he did not understand.

But Florie's grief at the loss of her brothers was
beyond control, and she made no attempt to hide her
tears.

Yes, the laird himself journeyed with his boys as
far as Leith, and saw them safe on board.

When the good ship steamed away at last, he waved
them a silent adieu, then turned and walked quickly
away.




.. _`Hurrah for "merrie england"!`:

CHAPTER II.--HURRAH FOR "MERRIE ENGLAND"!
=========================================

Neither Duncan nor Conal was a bad sailor, for,
their father's estate being near the western sea,
many a long summer's day they spent in open boats,
and they sometimes went out with the herring-fishers
and were heard of no more for clays.

But this was to be a voyage of more than ordinary
rigours, for, as bad luck would have it, a gale of wind
arose, with tremendous seas, soon after they passed
Berwick.

The waves made a clean breach over the unfortunate
ship, and at midnight, when the storm was at its worst,
the boys were suddenly awakened by the strange rolling
motion of the steamer, and they knew at once that
some terrible accident had happened.

The engines had stopped, for the shaft was broken;
and high over the roaring of the terrible wind they
could hear the captain shouting:

"All hands on deck!"

"Hands make sail!"

It was but little sail she could carry, indeed, and
that only fore-and-afters, jib and stay-sails.

The boys had a cabin all to themselves, and the
companionship of honest Viking, the Newfoundland.
The poor dog did not know what to make of his
situation.  If he thought at all, and no doubt dogs do
think, he must have wondered why his masters should
have forsaken their beautiful home, their wanderings
over the hills still clad in crimson heather, or through
the forests deep and dark, for a life like this; but to
the lower animals the ways of mankind are inscrutable,
just as those of a higher power are to us.  We
are gods to the pets we cherish, and they are content
to believe in and trust us, never doubting that all is
for the best.  Alas! we ourselves hardly put the same
trust in the good God who made us, and cares for us,
as our innocent dogs do in those who own them.

"Well, Conal," said Duncan, "this is, indeed, a wild
night.  I wonder if we are going to Davie Jones's
locker, as sailors call it?"

"I don't think so.  The captain is a long-headed
fellow.  I guess he knows what he is up to."

"I shall light the candles anyhow.  I don't like to
lie awake in the dark.  Do you?"

"Not much.  If I was to be drowned I think I
would like it to come off in good daylight."

After a scramble, during which he was pitched three
times on the deck, once right on top of the dog,
Duncan succeeded in lighting the candles.

These were hung in gimbals, so that the motion of
the ship did not affect them.

It was more cheerful now; so, having little desire to
go to sleep, knowing that the ship must really be in
danger, they lay and talked to each other.  Talked of
home, of course, but more about the great and
wondrous city of London, which, if God spared the ship,
they soon should see.

Presently a bigger wave than any that had come
before it struck the ship, and seemed to heel her over
right on her beam-ends, so that Duncan almost tumbled
out of his berth.

A deep silence followed, broken only by the rush of
water into the boys' cabin.

Viking sprang right into Conal's berth, and crouched,
shaking and quivering in terror, at his feet.

There was half a foot of water on the cabin deck.

The worst seemed to be over, however, for presently
sail was got on her, and though the wind continued
to rave and howl through the rigging, she was on a
more even keel and much steadier.

Presently the captain himself had a peep into the
lads' state-room.

He had a bronzed but cheerful face, and was clad in
oil-skins from his sou'-wester hat to his boots.

"Not afraid, are you, boys?  No?  Well, that's right.
We have broken down, and it will be many days
before we get into London; but we'll manage all right,
and I think the wind is just a little easier already."

"So we won't go to Davie Jones's to-night, will we,
captain?"

"Not if I know it, lad.  Now, my advice is this:
go to sleep, and--er--well, there can be no harm if
you say your prayers before you do drop off."

The boys took his advice, and were soon fast in the
arms of Morpheus.  So, too, was honest Viking.  He
was one of those dogs who know when they are well
off, so he preferred remaining in Conal's bunk to
descending to the wet deck again.  To show his
sympathy, he gave the boy one of his huge paws to
hold, and so hand-in-hand they fell asleep.

The wind was still blowing when they sat down to
breakfast with the captain and first mate, for there
was not another passenger on board save themselves.
The old saying, "The more the merrier", does not apply
to coasting steamers in early winter.  The fewer the
easier--that is more truthful.

The gale was a gale no longer, but a steady breeze.
The ship was given a good offing, for the wind blew
from the north-east, and to be too close to a lee shore
is at all times dangerous.

But how very snug and cosy the saloon looked, when
they were all gathered around the brightly-burning
stove that night.

The skipper could tell many a good story, and the
first mate also could spin a yarn or two, for they had
both been far away at sea in distant climes, and both
hoped to get ocean-going ships again.

So there they sat and chatted--ship-master and
man, with their tumblers of hot grog on the top of the
stove--till six bells in the middle watch.

Then the boys and Viking retired.

"I say, Conal," said Duncan that evening, just
before turning in, "I think I should like to be a
sailor."

"Well," replied Conal, "I should like to visit
far-away countries, where hardly anybody had ever been
before, and try to make some money just to be able to
help father in his difficulties."

"Poor father, yes.  Well, young fellows have made
money before now."

"Ay," said Conal, who was wise beyond his years;
"but, brother, they had a nest-egg to begin with.
Now, we have nothing."

"Nonsense, Conal; we have clear heads, we have a
good education, and we have a pair of willing hands
each.  That makes a good outfit, Conal, and many a
one has conquered fate with far less."

The voyage to London was a long and tedious one,
for they had to struggle for days against head-winds,
and tack and half tack isn't the quickest way to a
port.

But long before they reached the mouth of the
Thames, and were taken in tow by a tug-boat, the
boys had cemented quite a friendship with Captain
Talbot and his mate Morgan.  They promised to
correspond, and the honest skipper told them that he
had a great project on, and that if it came to a head,
he would be willing to take them both to sea with
him as apprentices, if their father would let them go.
This was real good news for our young heroes, and
they parted from Talbot happy and hopeful.

Morgan, the mate, put them up to the ropes as to
getting to Colonel Trelawney's residence, and a good
thing it was that he did so, else assuredly they would
have lost themselves.  A bargain was made with a
cabman, and he agreed for a certain sum to drive
them all the way.

It was a damp and miserable day, the streets were
inches deep in slimy mud, the houses all gray and
dismal.

No wonder that the hearts of these two boys,
accustomed to the green grandeur of forests and crimson-clad
Highland hills, sank within them, as they gazed
from the windows of their cab.

Was this the beautiful London they had heard tell
of and expected to see?  Nothing but discomfort and
misery met their eyes at first, and when the
conveyance stopped now and then, blocked by carts and
wagons, they found they could scarcely understand a
word of the jargon that fell on their ears from every
side.

"Moaning piper!" cried a ragged urchin, shoving a
newspaper right under Duncan's nose.

Duncan bought this morning paper.

"Did you notice what he said, Conal?"

"Yes; he said 'Moaning piper'.  There must be
something about a battle in it, and a Scotch piper
must have been wounded.  No wonder he moaned if
he was shot through the chest or legs--eh, Duncan?"

"No indeed, that would make anybody moan."

But much to the boys' disgust there was nothing
about a battle in the paper, nor about pipers, nor even
about soldiers at all.  So the newspaper was thrown
down, and they contented themselves by looking from
the windows at the crowds of people that were
hurrying along the pavement, everyone intent only on his
own business, and taking not the slightest notice of
his neighbour.  They had now got into a better part
of the town.  There were fewer guttersnipes and
badly-dressed men and women here, less apparent
poverty, in fact, with the exception of the poor,
white-faced, hungry-looking girls and women who were
selling flowers.  During a block one of these came to
the window near which Duncan sat, and he made the
lassie happy by buying two button-holes, and giving
her sixpence for them.

The 'buses were objects of curiosity for our heroes.

The drivers were ideal in their own way, and of a
class not to be met with anywhere out of London.

The boys criticised them unmercifully.

"Oh, Duncan, did ever you see such faces, or such
slow-looking men!"

"Faces just like hams, Conal--and, why, they seem
to be wearing about twenty coats!  So solemn too--I
wonder if ever those fellows smiled except over a pint
of beer!"

"And look at those huge wooden umbrellas!"

"Yes, that is for fear a drop of rain should fall
upon John Guttle, and he should catch cold."

"Shouldn't I like to see one of these John Guttles
trudging over a moor!"

"He wouldn't trudge far, Conal; he would tumble
down and gasp like an over-fed ox."

"I say, Duncan, I haven't seen anybody with a plaid yet."

"No, and you won't.  Top-coats--nothing else--and
tobacco-pipes.  No wonder most of those male
creatures on the tops of the 'buses are watery-nebbit
or red-nosed."

Now, however, private carriages began to mingle
with the traffic, and the boys had more to wonder at.
But inside these they caught glimpses of fashionable
ladies, some young, charmingly dressed, and of a cast
of beauty truly English and refined.  What astonished
Duncan and his brother most was the coachman and
flunkeys on the dickey, so severely and stupidly
aristocratic did they look.

"Oh, Duncan," cried Conal laughing, "did ever
you see such frights! and they've got on ladies' fur
tippets!"

"Yes, that is to keep their poor shivery bodies
warm, Conal."

"And they look just as if they owned all London,
don't they?"

"Yes, that is one of the peculiarities of the flunkey
tribe.  What's the odds, Conal, so long as they are
happy?"

The cab seemed to have reached the suburbs at last.
Here were many a pleasant villa, and many a lordly
mansion too, with splendid balconies, which were in
reality gardens in the sky.  There were trees, too,
though now almost bare, and green lawns and bushes
and flowers.

But none of these latter appealed to our young
heroes because they were all so artificial.

Hillo! the cab stops; and the driver, radiant in the
expectation of a tip, throws open the door.

"'Ere we are at last, young gents.  'Appy to drink
yer 'ealth.  Thousand thanks!  Hain't seen a
'alf-crown before for a month.  Nobuddy needn't say to
me as the Scots ain't liberal."

One of the handsomest villas the boys had yet seen,
and in the porch thereof stood Colonel Trelawney
himself to welcome his guests.

"Right welcome to the Limes," he cried heartily.
"Frank is out, but he'll be home to luncheon.  Why,
what tall hardy chaps you are, to be sure, and I'm
right glad you came in your native dress.  I wonder
how my boy would look in the kilt.  It's a matter of
legs, I believe."

"Oh, sir," said Duncan, "he'll soon get legs when he
comes to the Highlands, and climbs the hills and walks
the moors for a few months."

"Well, come in, boys.  James, here, will show you
your room.  We've put you both in the same, as I
know young fellows like to talk before turning in."

The room was plainly, yet comfortably, furnished,
and the window gave a pleasant view of gardens,
shrubberies, and a cloudland of trees to which the
autumn foliage still was clinging.

"'Ot watah, young gents."

"Thank you, James."

Duncan and Conal made haste to wash and dress.

James had opened their boxes, and was acting as
valet to them in every way.  But they were not used
to this, and so they told James.  God had given them
hands and arms, and so they liked to make use of them.

Hark! footsteps on the stairs.  Hurried ones, too;
two steps, one stride!

Next moment the door was thrown open, and Frank
himself stood before them, with both hands extended
to bid them welcome.




.. _`The boys' life in london`:

CHAPTER III.--THE BOYS' LIFE IN LONDON.
=======================================

"Cousin Frank!"

"That's me.  And how are you, cousins Conal
and Duncan?  We're only far-off cousins, but that
doesn't matter, does it?  I'm jolly glad to see you,
anyhow.  You'll bring some life into this dull old
hole; and I'll find some fun for you, you bet."

"Did you ask if we betted?" said Duncan, smiling,
but serious.  "We wouldn't be allowed to."

"No, no.  'You bet' is just an expression; for, mind
you, everybody speaks slang nowadays in town.  Oh,
I don't bet--as a rule, though I did have a pony on
the Oxford and Cambridge last race."

"And did the pony win?" asked Conal, naïvely.

"Eh?  What?  Ha, ha, ha!  Why, it's a boat race,
and a pony is a fiver.  I'd saved the cash for a year,
and like a fool I blewed it at last."

Well, if Frank Trelawney was not very much to
look at as regards body, he was frank and open, with
a handsome English face, all too pale, however, and
he seemed to have more worldly wisdom in his noddle
than Duncan, Conal, and Viking all put together.

After talking a little longer to our Highland heroes
Frank knelt down and threw his arms around the
great dog's neck, and Viking condescended to lick his
cheek.

"I'm so glad that old Vike takes to you, Frank,"
said Duncan.  "It isn't everybody he likes."

"Of course," said Frank, "'old' is merely a term of
endearment, as father would say."

"That's it.  He is only a year and six months old,
but already there is nothing scarcely that he does not
know, in country life, I mean, though I suppose he
will be rather strange in town for a time."

"Sure to be.  But here comes James.  Luncheon
served, James, eh?"

"Luncheon all ready, Master Frank."

They found the Colonel walking up and down the
well-lighted hall smoking a cigarette.  He was really
a most inveterate smoker.  He smoked before breakfast,
after breakfast, all the forenoon, and all day long.
Rolled his own cigarettes, too, so that his fore and
middle fingers were indelibly stained yellow with the
tobacco.

"Horrid habit!" he always told boys, "but I've
become a slave to it.  Don't you ever smoke."

Though some years over sixty, Trelawney was as
straight as a telephone pole, handsome, and soldierly
in face and bearing.  The only thing that detracted
from his facial appearance was a slight degree of
bagginess betwixt the lower eyelids and the cheek
bones.  This was brought on, his doctor had told him
often and often, by weakness of the heart caused by
tobacco and wine.  But Trelawney would not punish
himself by leaving either off.

The boys took to Mrs. Trelawney from the very
first.  She must have been fully twenty years younger
than the Colonel, and had a sweet, even beautiful,
face, and was altogether winning.

Well, that was a luncheon of what might be called
elegant kickshaws, artistically cooked and served, but
eminently unsatisfactory from a Scotch point of view.

The dinner in the evening was much the same, and
really when these Highland lads got up from the
table they almost longed for the honest, "sonsy"
fleshpots of Glenvoie.

Walnuts and wine for dessert!  But they did not
drink wine, and would have preferred a cocoa-nut or
two to the walnuts.  There would have been some
satisfaction in that.

A private box for the theatre!

"Oh," cried Duncan, "that will be nice!"

"You have often been at the theatre, dear, haven't you?"

This from Mrs. Trelawney, as she placed her very
much be-ringed fingers on Conal's shoulder.

"No, auntie," replied Conal; "only just once, with
Duncan there.  It was in Glasgow.  They were playing
'Rob Roy', and I shall never forget it.  Never,
never, never!"

But to-night it was a play of quite a different class,
a kind of musical comedy.  Plenty of action and go
in it, plenty of the most ordinary and musicless
singing, which pleased the gallery immensely, and frequent
spells of idiotic dancing.  There were no serious
situations at all, however, and no thread of narrative woven
into the play.

Moreover, both Scotch boys were placed at a
disadvantage owing to their inability to follow the
English patois, which on the whole was thoroughly
Cockney, the letter "R" being dead and buried, and
the "H" being silent after a "W", so that the lads
did not enjoy themselves quite as much as they had
expected to.

Every now and then the colonel excused himself.
He told our heroes he was going to see a man.  That
really meant lounging into the buffet to smoke a
cigarette, and moisten a constitutionally dry throat.

A few days after this, however, the colonel, who,
by some means or other known only to himself, was
behind the scenes (virtually speaking) of all the best
theatres, managed to get a box for the Lyceum.

That truly great tragedian, Irving, was playing in
"The Bells", and the young M'Vaynes were struck
dumb with astonishment; they were thrilled and
awed with the terrible realism of the grand actor,
and when the curtain fell at last both boys thanked
the colonel most heartily.

"That is real acting, a real play!" cried Duncan
enthusiastically.  "I'm sure neither Conal nor I want
to sit and listen to Cockney buffoonery after that."

Dear Mrs. Trelawney, as both boys called her, had
evidently made up her mind to give the lads as
pleasant a time as possible.  Every fine day, and
there were now many, she took them all for a drive.

"We sha'n't be back for luncheon, Tree," she
always told her husband.  "You must eat in solitary
state and grandeur for one day."

"Indeed," she smilingly informed Duncan, "I don't
care much to lunch at home.  I like to be free, and not
have extreme gentility and servants pottering about
behind your chair, and listening to every word you
say.  I hate the proprieties."

Duncan and Conal both smiled.  They felt just
that way themselves.

After a drive in the park, Mrs. Trelawney would
go shopping, and those two brown-faced,
brown-kneed Highland boys created a good deal of
sensation, though they seemed quite unaware of the fact.

Ah! but after the shopping came luncheon.  And
the colonel's wife knew where to go to.  A charming
hotel, not a million of miles from the Thames
embankment.  And that was a luncheon, too, or, as Frank
called it, a spread!

It was a square meal at all events, and
Mrs. Trelawney seemed delighted at seeing the boys
thoroughly enjoying it.

"Now you lads must eat, you know, because you've
got to grow many, many inches yet.  And this is
liberty hall anyhow.  Isn't it delightfully free and easy?"

It was.  This the boys admitted.

The more they were with Mrs. Trelawney the
more they liked her.  And the young M'Vaynes
might have said the same of Frank.  He was a
charming companion.  Moreover, he had many
accomplishments that his 42nd cousins could not boast of.
He could sing with a sweet girl-voice, and he played
the violin charmingly, his mother accompanying him
on the piano.

She, too, could sing, and in the evenings she often
electrified her guests by her renderings of dramatic
pieces.  Everybody who visited at the Trelawneys'
house knew that the colonel had married a young
and beautiful actress, and that here she was--far
more a woman of the world, and a more perfect lady
than anyone at her table.

And the boys were a great attraction.  They were
so outspoken, yet so innocent, that conversation with
them was full of amusement.  They always donned
their belts and dress tartans for dinner, and were a
good deal admired.  Moreover, they soon got to be
asked frequently out to dinners, or to dances.  These
they very much enjoyed.

Well, a whole month passed away, and Duncan and
his brother were now able to endure London and
London life, though they never could love it.

Many a long walk did Frank take them.  The
carriage would drive them as far as the Strand, then
the journey was continued on foot citywards.

Everything here was new--I can't say fresh, for
there is precious little freshness about London
streets--to the Scotch lads.  They could have wished,
however, that the pavements had been less crowded, that
the people had been less lazy-looking, and that the
vendors of penny wares had not thrust their
unsavoury hands so often right under their noses.

Frank seemed determined to show his 42nd cousins
every phase of London life.  He even took them into
a corner drink-palace, and there ordered lemonade, just
that they might see a little of the dark side of city life.

They were horrified to behold those gin-sodden men
and women, many leaning almost helplessly against
the counter; the patched and semi-dropsical faces of
the females, the maudlin idiotic looks of the males,
Duncan thought he never could forget.

He shuddered, and felt relieved when out once
more in the crowded streets.

One day Frank thought he would give his cousins
a special treat, so he took them to the Zoo.

Both were much interested in beholding the larger
wild beasts, the lions of Africa, the splendid tigers of
India, the sulky hippopotami, and ill-natured-looking
rhinoceroses.  But it was a sad sight after all, for
these half-starved-looking beasts were deprived of the
freedom of forest and plains, and confined here in
filthy dens, all for the pleasure of a gaping crowd of
ignorant Cockneys.

But when they came upon the birds of prey, and
their eyes caught sight of a poor puny specimen of
the Scottish eagle, chained to a post, and almost
destitute of feathers, Duncan's heart melted with
shame and sorrow, and he turned hurriedly away.

As far as the Zoo was concerned, Frank's best
intentions had failed to give his guests pleasure.  But
they were too polite to say so.

----

Duncan and Conal had now been two months in
London, and could understand even what the street
boys said.  On the whole they had enjoyed the
wonderful sights of this wonderful city, for these
really seemed unending.

Then came Christmas.

Christmas and the pantomime.

They enjoyed Drury Lane far more even than the
parties or even the dances they were invited to.  The
scenery and scenes were exquisitely lovely.  No dream
of fairyland ever equalled these.

The boys gave themselves wholly up to amusement
throughout all the festive season.  But to their credit
be it said, they did not gorge on goose, turkey, or
pudding as everybody else did.

"No wonder," thought Duncan, "that the Englishman
is called John Guttle in many parts of Scotland."  For
he had never seen such eating or drinking in his
life before.

Then after the festivities of the festive week came
dulness and dreariness extreme.  The people had
spent all their money, and wretchedness abounded on
every pavement of the sleet-swept streets of the city.
Yes, and the misery even overflowed into the west-end
suburbs.

It was about this time that Duncan made a discovery.

Frank had told him, frankly enough, that his father
was not over-well off, but it was evident to him now
that Colonel Trelawney was simply struggling to keep
up appearances, and that, in all probability, he was
deeply in debt.

Mrs. Trelawney, or "dear Auntie", as the Scotch
lads called her, was ever the same.  Nothing seemed
to trouble or worry her.

But the colonel at breakfast used to take up his
letters, one by one, and eye them with some degree of
suspicion before opening them.

The waste-paper basket was close to him, and was
wonderfully handy.

"The first application," he would say with a smile
as he tore up a bill and summarily disposed of the
fragments.

"Second application"--that too was torn up.

Letter from a friend--put aside to be read at leisure.

A long blue letter--suspicious--disposed of without
reading.

"Ha!  Amy, love, here is Sweater & Co.'s fourth
letter.  Threatens us with--ah, you know."

"Well, dear," says Mrs. Trelawney with her sweetest
smile, "just let them sweat!"

"Give 'em a bill, I suppose," the colonel says, as if
speaking to himself.

And the letter is put aside.

So one way or another Trelawney got through his
pile at last, and settled down to serious eating, that is,
he made a hearty meal from a Londoner's point of
view.  Then he lit a cigarette.

Well the month of January was raw and disagreeable,
and seldom was there a day without a fog either
white or yellow.

Is it any wonder that, brought up in a clear
transparent atmosphere among breezes that blew over
heathy hills, and were laden with the balsamic odour
of the pine-trees, Duncan and Conal began to languish
and long for home.

With great candour they told "Auntie" they wanted
to get home to enjoy skating, tobogganing, and
white-hare shooting; and she promised to speak to the
colonel.

"We will be so sorry to leave you, auntie, for you've
been so good to us."

"And I shall miss you, boys, sadly."

"Yes, I hope so.  It will give Conal and me pleasure
to think that you like us.  And of course Frank comes
with us."

"I fear it is too cold for Frank."

"Oh no, auntie dear.  One never feels cold in Scotland,
the air is so bracing, you know."

So that very day it was all arranged, and Laird
M'Vayne had a letter to that effect.

The parting was somewhat sorrowful, but the boys
did not say "Farewell!" only "*Au revoir*", because
both hoped to return, and by that time they declared
that Frank would be as hardy as--as--well, as hardy
as Highlanders usually are.

The last things that the boys bought in London
were skates.  Of course they could have got those in
Edinburgh, but not so cheaply, and for this reason:
there did not seem to be the ghost of a chance of any
skating for the Londoners this season, and so they
got the skates for an old song.

They went by sea to Edinburgh.  The *Queen* was
at present all but a cargo-boat, and besides the three
lads and Vike, there was only one other passenger, an
old minister of the Church of Scotland.

The same skipper and the same mate, and delighted
they were to see the boys again, and they gave Frank
a right hearty welcome on their account.

But Frank had that with him which secured him a
welcome wherever he went--his fiddle, and when after
dinner he played them some sad and plaintive old
Scottish airs, all were delighted, and the minister
got up from his chair, and, grasping the boy's hand,
thanked him most effusively.

"Dear lad," he said, "you have brought the moisture
to my eyes, although I had thought my fountain of
tears had dried up many and many a long year ago."

Now here is something strange; although, when
once fairly out of the Thames' mouth and at sea, it was
blowing a head wind, with waves houses high, Frank
was not even squeamish.  I have seen many cases like
this, though I must confess they are somewhat rare.

Nor was the minister ill; but then, like the Scotch
boys, he was sea-fast, having done quite a deal of
coasting.

"How goes the project you have in view?" asked
Duncan that evening of the skipper.

"Well," was the reply, "it is not what the French
call a *fait accompli* just yet, but it is bound to be so
before very long."

"Well, my 42nd cousin Frank here would like to go
to sea also.  Could you do with the three of us?"

"Yes.  You must be prepared to rough it a bit, and
we'll be rather cramped for room, but we shall manage.
Eh, mate?"

"I'm sure we shall, and this young gentleman must
take his fiddle."

"And I'll take the bagpipes," said Duncan, laughing.

"Hurrah!" cried the mate.  "Won't we astonish the
king of the Cannibal Islands?  Eh?"

It was Frank's turn to cry "Hurrah!"

"But," he added, "will there be real live cannibals,
sir?"

"Certainly.  What good would dead ones be?"

"And is there a chance of being caught and killed
and eaten, and all the like of that?"

"Ay, though it isn't pleasant to look forward to.
Only mind this: I may tell you for your comfort that
although, after being knocked on the head with a
nullah, your Highland cousin would be trussed at once
and hung up in front of a clear fire until done to a
turn, you yourself would be kept alive for weeks.
Penned up, you know, like a chicken."

"But why?"

"Oh, they always do that with London boys, because
they are generally too lean for decent cooking, and
need too much basting.  You would be penned up and
fattened with rice and bananas."

"Humph!" said Frank, and after a pause of thoughtfulness,
"Well, I suppose there is some consolation in
being kept alive a bit; but bother it all, I don't half
like the idea of being a side dish."

The weather was more favourable during this voyage,
and though bitterly cold, all the boys took plenty of
exercise on the quarter-deck, and so kept warm.
So, too, did the old minister, who was really a jolly
fellow, and did not preach at them nor dilate on the
follies of youth.  Moreover, this son of the Auld Kirk
enjoyed a hearty glass of toddy before turning in.

Leith at last!

And yonder, waiting anxiously on the quay, was
Laird M'Vayne himself.

His broad smile grew broader when his boys waved
their hands to him, and soon they were united once
again.




.. _`wild sports on moorland and ice`:

CHAPTER IV.--WILD SPORTS ON MOORLAND AND ICE.
=============================================

Pretty little Flora M'Vayne was half afraid of the
London boy at first.  The violin won her heart,
however, and before retiring for the night, when
shaking hands with Frank, she nodded seriously as
she told him:

"I'm not sure I sha'n't love you soon; Viking likes
you, so you must be good."

Well, Frank was an impressionable boy, and he was
very much struck by the child's innocent ways and
beauty.

"I'm not sure," he said in reply, "that we won't be
sweethearts before I leave.  How would you like that?"

She shook her head.  "No, no," she said, "you are
very nice, but you are only an English boy.  Good-night!"

"Good-night!"

I do not think that any two boys were ever more
glad to find themselves back once more, safely under
the parental roof-tree, than Duncan and Conal.  They
had made many friends in London, it is true, and spent
many a happy evening therein, and these they could
look back to with pleasure and with a sigh; but the
city and town itself, with all its strange ways, the
ignorance of its lower classes, its murdered twangy
English, its filth and its festering iniquities--they
positively shuddered when they thought of.

God seemed nowhere in London.  Here in this wild
and beautiful land He appeared to be everywhere.

The pure and virgin snow that clad the moors and
mountains was a carpet on which angels might tread;
the tiny budlets already appearing on the trees were
scattered there by His own hand; yea, and the very
wind that sighed and moaned through the forest was
the breath of heaven.

And when the sun had gone down behind the waves
of the western ocean did not

   |   "The moon take up the wondrous tale
   |   And nightly to the listening earth
   |   Repeat the story of her birth,
   |   While all the stars that round her burn,
   |   And all the planets in their turn
   |   Confirm the story as they roll,
   |   And spread the truth from pole to pole".

Yes, in wild and silent lands, God seems very near.  It
was in a country like this that the immortal poet Lord
Byron wrote much of his best poetry.  And no bolder
song did he ever pen than Loch-na-garr.  Near here
many of his ancestors--the Gordons--were laid to rest
after the fatal field of Culloden.  In one verse he
says--

   |   "Ill-starred, though brave, did no vision foreboding
   |     Tell you that fate had forsaken your cause?
   |   Ah! were ye then destined to die at Culloden,
   |     Though victory crown'd not your fall with applause.
   |   Still were ye happy in death's earthly slumbers,
   |     You rest with your clan in the caves of Braemar,
   |   The pibroch resounds to the piper's loud numbers
   |     Your deeds to the echoes of wild Loch-na-garr."

No wonder that, wandering amidst such soul-enthralling
scenery, arrayed in the tartan of his clan, or
thinking of the happy days of his boyhood, years and
years afterwards he said as he sighed--

   |   "England, thy beauties are tame and domestic
   |     To one who has roam'd on the mountains afar!
   |   Oh! for the crags that are wild and majestic,
   |     The steep frowning glories of dark Loch-na-garr."

.. vspace:: 2

But Frank Trelawney was a guest at Glenvoie, and,
imbued with that spirit of hospitality for which
Highlanders are so famous, the boys M'Vayne would have
bitten their tongue through and through rather than
say one disparaging word about England.

Nor was there any need, for tame and domestic
though its scenery is, the whole history of the country,
even before the Union, teems with deeds of derring-do,
done by her brave sons, on many and many a
blood-drenched field of battle.

As for Frank himself, he seemed not only to settle
down to his life in the wilds in less than a week, but
to become quite enthusiastic over "Scotland's hills and
Scotland's dells"; and he was not slow in reminding
his 42nd cousins that he too had a drop of real
Highland blood in his veins.

"We'll soon make a man of you, dear boy," said the
Laird one evening.  "Now, myself, and my lads, with
Vike and a setter, are going after the white hares
to-morrow, and if you think yourself strong enough, we
shall take you."

"Oh, I feel strong enough now for anything," replied
Frank laughing.

"Mind it is terribly hard work; but there is a little
snow on the ground, and we'll be able to track the
hares easily."

"I don't think that Frank should go, Ronald," put
in Mrs. M'Vayne; "the boy is far indeed from hardy,
and it may exhaust him quite.  You'll stay at home
with me, won't you, Frank?"

"Yes, aunt, if you bid me, but--"  He hesitated.

"Oh!" cried Duncan, "that 'but' turns the scale,
mother.  Don't you ask him to stay, mother.  All
Englishmen have pluck if they haven't all strength.
So Frank is coming."

The morning was very bright and beautiful, with
just a slight "scriffen" of snow on the ground, and the
sun rose over the eastern hills in a blue-gray haze, like
a ball of crimson fire, and intimated his intention of
shining all day long.

Duncan and Conal were up betimes, and had got
everything in readiness long before Frank came down.

A sturdy keeper would carry the bags and the
luncheon they should partake of on the hill.

But the young Englishman was full of life and go.
After a hearty breakfast they started; Flora standing
in the porch waving her hand to them, but with tears
of sorrow in her eyes because she too was not allowed
to go.

Viking was daft with joy, feathering round and
round in wide circles, and now and then turning Dash,
the Gordon setter, over on his back in the snow.

They passed the forest, now leafless and bare, and
taking to the right, the ground soon began to rise.

The sheep under the charge of a plaided shepherd
and his dog, were busy scratching away the snow to
feed on grass and succulent mosses--a cold kind of
breakfast, to say the least of it.

The ground rose and rose.

The dogs were kept well to heel, for indeed their
services were but little needed.

Ha! here are hare-tracks!

"Take the front, Frank," said the laird; "you are
the guest, and must have the first blood."

Frank's heart beat high with excitement, and he
carried the gun low with a finger on the trigger.

"Hurrah! there she tips!"

Bang! and a white hare that had essayed crossing
from one broom-bush to another, was tumbled; then
off darted Viking and brought her in.

"Capital shot!" said Duncan.  "Now we'll spread,
and it will be every one for himself, and Viking and
Dash for us all."

They lay out in skirmishing order, and marched on
and up.

But soon they had to force their way through
heather that came up even to the laird's and the tall
keeper's waists, and all but buried little Frank.

He held his gun aloft, however, and struggled
bravely on.

In about a quarter of an hour they had emerged,
and the boys were shaking the snow from their kilts.

On and up.  Why, it was always on and up.

They marched all that forenoon, sometimes around
rocky spurs and paps of the mountains, sometimes
along bare and barren glens, sometimes along the
edges of fearful precipices, where a single slip or false
step would have meant a terrible accident.

By the time they had reached the cliffy shelter of a
very high hill, they had bagged eight white hares in all.

And now it was noon, and though the frost was
fairly hard, the exercise had warmed their life-blood,
and they felt no cold.

Hunger, though?  Ah! yes, but that could speedily
be appeased.

Plaids were spread on the ground, and down they
all sat, the dogs not far off, and I'm sure that the
keeper, sturdy chiel though he was, felt glad to be
lightened of his load.

What a jolly meal that was to be sure!  With her
own lady fingers the laird's wife had made that
splendid pie.  Pie for five and almost enough for fifty.
But then, of course, there were the honest dogs to be
considered, and they easily disposed of all that was
left.

Bread--that is, real oatcakes--cheese, and butter
followed.

The boys washed all down with a flagon of milk,
but in the interests of truth, I must add that the laird
and his keeper had a modest glass or two of Highland
whisky.

And now, after yarning for about half an hour,
sport was resumed.

Farther up the hillsides they still went, and so on
and on for two whole hours.

It had been a grand day, but as the sun was now
declining towards the blue blue ocean, the laird called
a halt.

"I think, boys," he said, "we've done enough, and
as we are nearly ten miles from home we had better
be retracing our steps.  Donald has as many hares as
he can carry.  Haven't you, Donald?"

"Och! well, it's nothing," was the reply.  "And it's
all down-hill now you'll mind, sir."

"Yes.  Well, lead the way, Donald."

Donald did.

For one of the party, and that was Frank, the
journey was a terrible one.  On the upward march there
was all the excitement of the sport to keep him up.
But now he had no such stimulant to stir his English
blood.

When still three miles from Glenvoie mansion-house,
Duncan observed that he was very pale and
limped most painfully.  In fact the poor boy's ankles
were swollen, and his toes felt like whitlows; but
although so tired that he could hardly carry his gun,
that indomitable English courage of his kept him
from complaining.

He confessed, however, feeling just a little tired, so
the laird poured a small quantity of whisky into a
measure, mixed it with snow, and made him swallow it.

After this he felt better.

When they arrived at the top of the very lower-most
and lost hill, the house being but half a mile
distant, they sat down for a short time to rest and
gaze across the sea.

The sun's lower limb had just touched the
wester-most wave, and red and fiery gleamed his beams
'twixt horizon and shore.  It was a beautiful sight.

Many flocks of rooks were winging their way
northwards to the shelter of the great forest, and now
and then a string of wild ducks were seen in full
flight towards the tall reeds that bordered an
ice-bound lake.

Slowly sank the sun, the waves seemed to wash up
across its blood-red surface, and gradually, so gradually,
engulfed the whole.

   |   "And the sun's last rosy rays did fade
   |     Into twilight soft and dim."

----

Frank Trelawney was indeed glad when he found
himself once more in his own room.  The man brought
water, and with Highland courtesy insisted on
bathing his feet.

He next hurried away for a cup of delicious coffee,
after swallowing which Frank felt like a giant
refreshed, and soon went down into the drawing-room.

He was still pale, however, for the terrible fatigue
had temporarily affected the heart.

Little Flora was not slow to note this.

"Oh, cousin," she said, "how white and tired-looking
you are!  You shouldn't have gone.  You're only a
poor little English boy, you know."

Frank liked the child's sympathy, but he certainly
did not feel flattered by the last sentence.

"That's all," he mustered courage to say.  "I'm only
a poor Cockney lad, and I think, Flora, I've had enough
white-hare shooting to last me for a very long time.
When next your father and brothers go after game of
this sort, I'll stay at home and make love to you."

Frank, however, was as well as could be next day,
and after a cold bath went hungrily down to breakfast.

The day was as still and bright as ever, and it was
to be spent upon the loch.

Curling--which might be called a kind of gigantic
game of billiards on the ice--was to be engaged in.
A party was coming from a neighbouring parish, and
a strong club was to meet them.

At this most splendid "roaring" game there is no
class distinction; lord and laird, parson and peasant, all
play side by side, all are equal, and all feed together,
ay, and partake of Highland usquebaugh together also.

Well, the laird's party were victorious, and all were
invited up to Glenvoie house, to partake of an excellent
dinner, laid out in the barn.

But the barn was beautifully clean, and along its
wall, among evergreens, was placed many a bright
cluster of candles.

The silver and crystal sparkled on the snow-white
table-cloth, and that huge joint of hot corn-beef and
carrots--the curlers' dinner *par excellence*--was
partaken of with great gusto.

Bread and cheese and whisky followed this, then
the minister returned thanks, and this was followed
by more whisky, with song after song.

   |   "Roof and rafters a' did dirl."

.. vspace:: 2

It was not till near to the "wee short 'oor ayont
the twal" that the party broke up, and all departed
for their distant homes, on horseback or in traps.

Did I say "all departed"?  What an awkward thing
it is to be possessed of a conscience!  I have one which,
whenever I deviate in the slightest degree from the
straight lines of truth, brings me up with a round
turn.

Well, *all* did not depart, for the corn-beef--let us
say--had flown to the legs and to the heads of half a
dozen jolly fellows at least, and they determined that
they wouldn't go home till morning.

So they had some more toddy, sang "Auld Lang
Syne", and then retreating to the rear of the barn,
curled up amongst the straw and were soon fast asleep.

So ended the great curling match of Glenvoie.




.. _`A HIGHLAND BLIZZARD--THE LOST SHEEP AND SHEPHERD`:

CHAPTER V.--A HIGHLAND BLIZZARD--THE LOST SHEEP AND SHEPHERD.
=============================================================

It must not be supposed for a single moment that
although the boys M'Vayne liked fun and adventure
in their own wild land, just as you or I or any
other boys do, reader, their education was neglected.
Quite the reverse, in fact.  For at the time our tale
commences, both had just returned from the High
School of Edinburgh, where they had studied with
honour, and carried off many prizes.

One of Duncan's pet studies had been and still
was--navigation.  Not only of a theoretical kind, but
thoroughly practical.

He had long since made up his mind to become a
sailor, and he had left no stone unturned to learn the
noble art of seamanship.

For this purpose he had prevailed upon his father
to let him take several cruises in a barque plying
between Leith and Hull.  So earnest was Duncan, and
so willing was both skipper and mate of this craft to
teach him, that in a very short time he was not only
up to every rope and stay, but could take both the
latitude and longitude as well as could be desired.

He did all he could to put his brother up to the
ropes also.

They were very fond of each other, these two lads,
and it was the earnest desire of both that they should
not be parted.

Well, all the stories they read were of the "ocean
wild and wide", and all the poetry they loved had the
sound of the sea in it.

Such poetry and such tales Duncan would often
read to his brother and winsome wee Florie sitting
high on a hilltop, perhaps, on some fine summer's day
with the great Atlantic spreading away and away
from the shore beneath them to the distant horizon.

Dibdin's splendid and racy songs, redolent as they
are of the brine and the breeze, were great favourites.

But I do think there is a thread of romance in the
life of every sailor.  Nay, more, I believe that it is
this very romance that first induces young fellows to
tempt the billows, although they are but little likely
to find a life on the ocean wave quite all that their
fancy painted.  Talking personally, I am of opinion
that it was *Tom Cringle's Log* that first gave me an
idea of going to sea.  Well, I do not regret it.

Byron's *Corsair* was a great favourite with the
boys.  Indeed, I rather think that they both would
have liked to become corsairs or dashing pirates.
And little Flora would gladly have gone with them.

"Heigho!" she sighed one day when Duncan had
closed the book.  "Heigho!  I wish I had been a boy.
I think it was very foolish of the Good Man to make
me a girl, when he knew well enough I wanted to be
a boy."

The poor child did not know how irreverent was
such talk.

Honest Vike used to lie by Duncan's side while he
was reading, with one huge heavy paw placed over
the boy's knee.

But it must have been monotonous for him; and
often his head fell on the extended foot, and he went
off to sleep outright.

No sooner was the reading ended, however, than
Vike awoke, as full of life as a spring-born kitten.
Then his game began.  He used to loosen a huge
boulder and send it rolling down the hill.  As it
gained force, it split up into twenty pieces or more,
and bombarded everything it came across.  Vike just
stood and barked.  But once, when a flying piece of
the boulder killed a hare, the noble Newfoundland
dashed down the hill at tremendous speed, and seized
his quarry.

He came slowly up with it, and laid it solemnly
down at Duncan's feet.

This was all very well; but one day, when the boys
and Flora sat down about half-way up a hill, Viking,
tired of the reading, found his way to the hilltop, and,
as usual, loosened a boulder, and started it.

Thump, thump, rattle, rattle, rush!  Fully a dozen
great stones came down on our heroes in a cloud of
dust, and with the force of an avalanche.  The danger
was certainly great, but it was all over before they
could fully realize it.

Duncan hastily drew his whistle, and at its call
the innocent dog instantly ceased working at another
boulder he was busily engaged loosening, and came
galloping down the hill.

Poor fellow!  I dare say he deserved a scolding, but
so full of life and happiness was he, that Duncan had
not the heart to speak harshly to him.  Only care
was taken after this that Vike never got higher up
the hill than the reading party.

Frank had been nearly three weeks at Glenvoie,
before he became initiated into the mysteries of a real
Highland snow-storm.  Many of my readers have
doubtless been out in such a blizzard, but the majority
have not, and can have but little idea of the fierceness
and danger of it.

The morning of the 10th of February, 18--, was
mild and beautiful.  Both Duncan and his brother
had been early astir, and had taken their bath long
before sunrise.

They went downstairs on tiptoe, as they had no
desire to awake their guest.

"English boys need a lot of sleep," said Conal.
"They're not like you or me, Duncan."

"N-no," said his brother; "but I could have done
with another hour myself to-day.  But we are
Scotsmen, and must show an example.  Noblesse oblige.
Well," he added, "we'll have time to run up the hill
anyhow, and see the sun rise."

So off they went, Vike making all the rocks and
braes resound with his barking.

It was, indeed, a glorious and beautiful morning,
and from their elevated situation they could see all
the wild and romantic country on every side of them,
for daylight was already broadening in the east.  To
the west the gray Atlantic ocean, the horizon buried
in mist, away to the south woods and forests.  Forests
to the north also, while behind them hills on hills
successive rose.

But the eastern sky was already aglow with clouds
of crimson fire and gold.  What artist could paint,
what poet describe, such glory?

Then low towards a wood shines forth a brighter,
more fiery gleam than all, and even at this distance
the boys can see the branches, aye, and even the twigs,
of the trees silhouetted against it.

And that is the sun itself struggling up behind the
radiant clouds.

They stayed but little longer, for by this time
breakfast would be ready, and Frank himself getting up.

After this meal was discussed, as a light breeze,
sufficient to ripple the stream, had sprung up, the
young folks determined to go fishing.

They took luncheon with them, and spent the whole
forenoon on the banks of the bonnie wimpling burn.

But so well engaged were they that they did not at
first observe that the sky was becoming rapidly
overcast, and that the wind had begun to wail and moan
in the trees of the adjoining forest.  It had turned
terribly cold too.

Duncan became fully alive to his danger now, however,
especially when the tiny millet-seed snow began
to fall.

"Our nearest way is through the wood," said the
boy.  Duncan was always pioneer in every danger
and in every pleasure.

"And there is no time to lose," he added.  "Florie,
I wish you hadn't come.  I suppose Conal and I will
have to carry you."

"I won't be carried," replied the stout-hearted little
Scots maiden.  "I daresay you think I'm a child."

Fishing-tackle was by this time made up, and off
they started.

It was terribly dark and gloomy under the great
black-foliaged pine-trees, but Duncan knew every foot
of the way.

They got through the forest, and out on to the wide
moorland, just as the snow began to fall in earnest.

This moor was for the most part covered with
heather, with broom and with whins, but dotted over
with Scottish pine-trees.  These last had been planted,
or rather sown, by the rooks, for the black corbies
turn many a heathery upland in Scotland into waving
woods or forests.  They bear the cones away to pick
the seeds therefrom on the quiet moors.  Some of
these seeds are dropped, and in a short time trees
spring up.

Duncan now took from his pocket a small compass,
and studied it for a moment.

"We sha'n't be able to see the length of a fishing-rod
before us soon," he said.  "Now, I propose steering
due south till we strike the old turf dike[1] that leads
across the mountains.  By following this downwards
we will be guided straight to the pine-wood rookery
behind our house."

.. vspace:: 2

[] Dike (*Scottice*), a low fence of stone or turf.

.. vspace:: 2

They commenced to struggle on now in earnest--I
might almost say for dear life's sake--for wilder and
wilder blew the blizzard, increasing in force every
minute, and thicker fell the snow.  But I was wrong
in saying it fell, for it was carried horizontally
along on the wings of the wind.  Not a flake would
lie on the hills or bare slopes, but every dingle and
dell and gully, and every rock-side facing westward,
was filled and blocked.

Duncan held Flora firmly by the hand, for if she
got out of sight in this choking drift, even for a few
seconds, her fate would, in all probability, be that of
sweet Lucy Gray--she might ne'er be seen alive again.

Frank and Conal were arm-in-arm, their heads well
down as they struggled on and on.

"Let us keep well together, boys," cried Duncan, as
he looked at his little compass once again.  "Cheerily
does it, as sailors say."

Now and then they stopped for breath when they
came to a clump of pines.

Here the noise of the wind overhead was terrific.
At its lightest it was precisely like the roar of a great
waterfall.  But ever and anon it would come on in
furious squalls, that had in them all the force of a
hurricane, which swept the tree-tops straight out to
one side and bent their giant stems as if they had
been but fishing-rods.  At every gust such as this
the flakes were broken into ice-dust, with a
suffocating snow fog that, had they not buried their faces
in their plaids, would have choked the party one
and all.

Many of these pines were carried away by the
board, snapped near to the ground, and hurled
earthwards with the force of the blast.

Long before they reached the fence of turf, called in
Scotland, as I have said, a dike, Flora was completely
exhausted, and had to submit to be carried on Duncan's
sturdy back.

Frank was but little better off, but he would not
give in.

At last they reached the dike.

"Heaven be praised!" cried Duncan.  "And now we
shall rest just a short time and then start on and
down.  Cheer up, lads, we will manage now."

Flora descended from her brother's back, and he sat
down on the turf, and took her on his knee.

But where was Vike?

Surely he had not deserted them!

No, for a dog of this breed is faithful unto death.

But now a strange kind of somnolence began to
take possession of the boys.

Duncan himself could not resist its power, far less
his companions.

"Let us be going, lads," he cried more than once,
but he did not move.

He seemed to be unable to lift a limb, and at last
he heard the howling of the wind only like sunlit
waves breaking on a far-off sandy beach.

He nodded--his chin fell on his breast--he was dreaming.

Ah! but it is from a sleep like this that men,
overtaken in a snow-storm, never, never arise.  They
simply

   |   "Sleep the sleep that knows not breaking,
   |   Morn of toil, nor night of waking".

.. vspace:: 2

In a few minutes, however, Duncan starts.  The
sound of a dog's voice falls on his ear.  Ah! there is
no bark in all broad Scotland so sonorous and so
sincere as that of honest Vike.

Wowff!  Wowff!  Wowff!!

There is joy in it, too, for he has found the boys--ah! more
than that, he has brought relief, and here
are the sturdy kilted keeper and two farm hands,
ready to help them safely home.  The keeper has a
flask, and all must taste--even Florie, who is hardly
yet awake.

How pleasant looked the fire in the fine old
dining-hall when, after dressing, the boys came below.

And Glenvoie himself was laughing now, and as he
shook Frank's hand, he could not help saying:

"Well, my lad, and how do you like a Highland
snow-storm?"

"Ah!" said Frank, laughing in turn, "a little of it
goes a long way.  I don't want any more Highland
snow-storm, thank you--not for Frank!"

The gale seemed to be increasing rather than abating,
and it kept on all that night, and for two nights
and two days more.

Then it fell calm.

"I trust in Heaven," said M'Vayne, "that Sandie,
our shepherd, has reached the shelter of some hut, but
I fear the worst.  The sheep may be buried, but they
will survive; but without food poor Sandie cannot
have withstood the brunt of that awful blizzard.

"Boys," he continued, "I shall start at once on a
search, and the keeper will come with me."

"And we too."

"Wowff! wowff!" barked Vike, as much as to say,
"You'd be poorly off without my assistance."

It was a lovely forenoon now, with a clear sky, but
not as much wind as would suffice to lift one feathery
flake.

They meant to find the shepherd, but it was his
hard-frozen corpse they expected to dig out of a
snow-drift.




.. _`"The breath of God was over all the land"`:

CHAPTER VI.--"THE BREATH OF GOD WAS OVER ALL THE LAND."
=======================================================

There were two huts on the moorland, one in the
open, another close against a ridge of rocks, and
in one or other poor Sandie would surely have found
shelter.

So to the first they bent their footsteps.  It stood
with its back to the east, and on the west it was
entirely covered with great banks of snow, some of
them shaped like waves on the sea-shore, that are just
on the eve of breaking.

It took the keeper and two men nearly an hour to
break through the barrier and find the doorway.

They could see nothing when they opened it, for all
were partially snow-blind.

But they groped around, and called the shepherd by
name; then convinced that he was not there, dead or
alive, they came sadly away, and joined the group
outside.

There was still the other hut to be examined, and
this was a good mile higher up the hill.

Thither, therefore, the party now wended their way,
but so completely covered up did they find it, that
another long hour of hard work was spent in reaching
the doorway.

Like the last which they had explored, it was cold,
dark, and deserted.

No one had any hope now of finding Sandie alive,
but after a hurried luncheon they spread themselves
out across the hill and moor somewhat after the
fashion of skirmishers, and the ground was thoroughly
searched.

But all in vain.

No frozen corpse was found.

They were about to return now sorrowfully homewards,
when high up the hill and at the foot of a
semi-lunar patch of rocks--an upheaval that had
taken place probably millions of years ago--Vike was
noticed, and his movements attracted the attention of all.

He was yap-yapping as if in great grief, tearing up
the snow at the foot of a mighty drift and casting it
behind him and over him.

A pure white dog was the Newfoundland at present,
so laden was his coat with the powdery drift.

"Come on, men, come on," cried Glenvoie, "there
yet is hope!  The good dog scents something in spite
or the snow.  It may only be sheep, and yet poor
dead frozen Sandie may be amongst them."

It took them but a few minutes to reach the cliff
and the huge snowdrift that covered its western side.
It was then that Duncan remembered something
about these rocks.

"Why, father," he said, "now that I think of it,
this is Prince Charlie's cave."

"You are right, lad, and my hopes are certainly in
the ascendant."

"Conal and I have often been inside, and there is
room enough inside to shelter a flock of sheep, or a
regiment of soldiers."

"Now then, lads," cried the laird, "work away with
a will.  I'll take care you don't lose by it."

He handed them his flask as he spoke, and thus
refreshed by the wine of their native land, they did
work, and with a will too.

But hard work it was, from the fact that the snow
was loose and powdery.

But at long, long last they reached the mouth of
the cave.

And now a curious spectacle was witnessed, for to
the number of at least a hundred, and headed by a
huge curly-horned ram, with a chorus of baa-a-ing,
out rushed the imprisoned sheep, kicking and leaping
with joy to see once more the light of day.

Behind them came the shepherd's bawsont-faced
collie Korran.  But after licking Vike's ear he rushed
back once more into the cave, and the rescuers quickly
lighting a fire with some withered grass, found the
body of the shepherd with Korran standing over it.
Was he dead?

That had yet to be seen.  They carried him out,
and placing him on plaids, began to rub his face with
snow and chafe his cold, hard hands.

In less than ten minutes Sandie opened his wondering eyes.

He could swallow now, and a restorative was
administered.

I need scarcely say that this restorative was
Highland whisky.

After about half an hour Sandie was able not only
to eat and talk but to walk.

His story was a very brief one.  He had, with the
assistance of Korran, driven the sheep into the cave,
and never dreaming that he would be snowed up,
and remained with them for a time.  Alas! it was a
long time for the poor fellow and his faithful dog!

Two days and two nights without food and only
snow to keep body and soul together.  And the
cold--oh, so intense!

"How did you feel?" asked Frank.

The shepherd hadn't "a much English", as he
phrased it, but he answered as best he could.

"Och, and och! then, my laddie, she was glad the
koorich (sheep) was safe, and she didna thinkit a
much aboot hersel.  But she prayed and she prayed,
and then she joost fell asleep, and the Lord of Hosts
tookit a care of her."

Well, this honest shepherd was certainly imbued
with the sincere and beautiful faith of the early
Covenanters, but, after all, who shall dare to say that
there is no efficacy in real prayer.  Not in the prayers
that are said, but in the prayers that are prayed.

----

Well, spring returned at last.  Soft blew the winds
from off the western sea; all the hills were clad in
green; the woods burst into bud and leaf; in their
darkest thickets the wild doves' croodle was heard,
droning a kind of bass to the mad, merry lilt of the
chaffie, the daft song of the mavis, or low sweet fluting
of the mellow-voiced blackbird.

But abroad on the moors the orange-scented thorny
whins, resplendent, hugged the ground, and here the
rose-linnets built and sang, while high above,
fluttering against some fleecy cloudlet, laverocks (larks)
innumerable could be heard and dimly seen.

Oh it was a beautiful time, and the breath of God
seemed over all the land.

Frank Trelawney had adopted, not only all the
methods of life of his Scots 42nd cousins, but even
their diet.

Almost from the date of his arrival he had taken a
shower-bath or sponge-bath before breakfast, and this
breakfast was for the most part good oatmeal porridge,
with the sweetest of butter and freshest of milk.

Now that spring had really come, he went every
morning with Duncan and Conal to a big brown pool
in the woodland stream.  So deep was it that they
could take headers without the slightest danger of
knocking a hole in the gravel bottom of the "pot".
Having towelled down and dressed rapidly, they ran
all the way home.

This new and healthful plan of living soon told
for good on the constitution of the London lad.  His
muscles grew harder and stronger, roses came on his
cheeks, and he was as happy and gay as Viking
himself, and that is saying a deal.

Many a long ramble did he and little Flora now
take together through the woods and wilds, for he
did not care to go boating or sea-fishing with the
others every day.

Vike always accompanied the two.  This certainly
was not because he disliked the sea.  On the contrary,
he loved it.  Whenever the boat came within a quarter
of a mile of the beach he always sprang overboard
and swam the rest of the way.

Arrived on shore he shook gallons of water out of
his coat.  If you had been standing between the dog
and the sun, you would have seen him enveloped in
bright little rainbows, which were very pretty; but if
anywhere alongside of him, then you would have
required to go straight home and change your
clothing, for Viking would have drenched you to the skin
if not quite through it.

But I suppose that this grand and wise Newfoundland
thought the London boy and little Flo had more
need of his protection.

Ah! many and many a day and night after this,
when far away at sea or wandering in wild lands, did
Frank think of these delightful rambles with his
little companion.  Think of them, ay, and dream of
them too.

Often they were protracted till--

   |   ... "The moonbeams were bright
   |   O'er river and forest, o'er mountain and lea".

.. vspace:: 2

Some poet of olden times--I forget his name--tells
us that "pity is akin to love".  Well, Flora began by
pitying this "poor little London boy", as she always
called him, even to his face, but quite sympathizingly,
and she ended, ere yet the summer was in its prime,
by liking him very much indeed.  To say that she
loved him would, of course, be a phrase misapplied,
for Flora was only a child.

----

With June, and all its floral and sylvan joys, came
shoals of herring from the far north, and busy indeed
were the boatmen catching them.

Glenvoie lay some distance back from a great sweep
of a bay, at each end of which was a bold and rocky
headland.

Few of the herring boats really belonged to this
bay, but they all used often to run in here, and after
arranging their nets, they set sail for their mighty
draughts of fishes.

Duncan and Conal were always welcome, because
they assisted right willingly and merrily at the work.

The boats were very large, and all open in the
centre--the well, this space was called--and with a
cuddy, or small living and cooking room, both fore
and aft.

It used to be rough work, this herring fishing, and
not over cleanly, but the boys always put on the oldest
clothes they had, with waterproof leggings, oil-skin
hats, and sou'westers.

They would be out sometimes for two days and nights.

The beauty of the scenery, looking towards the land
at the sunset hour, it would be impossible for pen or
pencil to do justice to.  The smooth sea, with its
patches of crimson, opal, or orange, the white sands of
the bay, the dark, frowning headlands, the dark
greenery of the shaggy woods and forests, and the
rugged hills towering high against the eastern horizon;
the whole made a picture that a Turner only could
have conveyed to canvas.

The dolphin is--from a poet's point of view--a very
interesting animal, with an air of romance about him.
Dolphins are said to be of a very joyous temperament.
Well, perhaps; but they are, nevertheless, about the
worst enemies those hardy, northern, herring-fishery
men have to encounter.

They come in shoals after the herrings, and go
"slick" through the nets, carrying great pieces away
on their ungainly bodies.  And the boatmen can do
nothing to protect their silvery harvest.

Once, while our young heroes were on board one of
the largest and best of the boats, it came on to blow
off the land--not simply a gale of wind, but something
near akin to a hurricane.  They were driven out to
sea about sundown, and Duncan and Conal could
never forget the sufferings of that fearful night.

After trying in vain to beat to windward, they put
up the helm--narrowly escaping broaching-to--and
ran before it.

But all through the darkness, and until the gray
and uncertain light of day broke slowly over the
storm-tossed ocean, the seas were continually
breaking over the sturdy boat, and everyone was drenched
to the skin.  It might have been said, with truth, that
she was swamped, so full of water was the well.

The great waves were now visible enough, each
with its yellow sides and its foaming mane.  It
seemed, indeed, that the ocean was stirred up to its
very bottom, and when down in the trough of the
seas, with those "combers" threatening far above,
with truth might it have been said that the waves
were mountains high.

All the nets were lost, but no lives.

About noon the wind veered round to the west, and
all sail was set, and the boat steered for land; but so
far into the Atlantic had they been driven that it was
sunrise next morning before they succeeded in
reaching the bay.

And there sad news awaited them.

There would be mourning widows and weeping
children, for two bonnie boats had perished with all
their brave crews.

Well, there is danger in every calling, but far more,
I think, in that of the northern fisherman than in any
other.

But how doubly dear to him is life on shore, when
he reaches his little white-washed cottage, after a
successful run, and meets his smiling wife and happy
children, who run to greet their daddy home from sea.

----

Summer was already on the wane, and July nights
were getting longer.  Frank must soon seek once
more his London home.

But he was healthier, stronger, happier now, by far
and away, than when he first arrived at Glenvoie.

Ah! but the parting with everyone, but especially
with bonnie young Flora, would be sad and sad indeed.

One morning, about a week before Frank was to
leave for the south, Duncan came into his room.

"You and I and Conal are going up the hill to-day,"
he said, "all by ourselves, and I have something to
propose which I feel sure you will be glad to approve of."

"All right!" said Frank.

So after breakfast the three boys slipped away to
the hills, without telling anyone what they were after.

A council was to be held.




.. _`THE PARTING COMES AT LAST`:

CHAPTER VII.--THE PARTING COMES AT LAST.
========================================

If Duncan M'Vayne were a mere imaginary hero, I
should not take credit for any virtue that in him
lay, but I don't mind telling you, reader, that very
few of the heroes of my stories are altogether creations
of my fairly fertile brain.  Like most sailor-men who
have seen a vast deal of the world, I have so much
truth to tell that it would be downright foolish to fall
back upon fiction for some time yet.

And so I am not ashamed to say that Duncan was
one of those *rara aves*--boys who think.  I do not
care to study the characters of boys who are not just
a little bit out of the common run.  Ordinary boys
are as common as sand-martins in an old gravel-pit,
and they are not worth writing about.

Well brought up as he had been, so far away in the
lonesome wilds of the Scottish Highlands, and having
few companions save his brother and parents, it is but
little wonder that he dearly loved his father and
mother.  To tell the whole truth, the affection felt by
Scottish boys towards their parents is very real and
sincere indeed.  It is a love that most assuredly passes
the knowledge of southerners, and in saying so I am
most sincere.

Well, neither he, Duncan, nor Conal either could
help knowing that of late years circumstances
connected with the estate of Glenvoie had become rather
straitened, and although obliged to keep up a good
show, as I may term it, his father was far indeed from
being wealthy at the present time.  The estate was
not a large one certainly, but it would have been big
enough to live well upon, had the shootings let as well
as they did long ago.

Is it any wonder that talking together about their
future, as they frequently did before going to sleep,
Duncan and Conal used often to ask each other the
question, "How best can we be of some use to Daddy?"  And
it was indeed a difficult one to answer.

Both lads had already all the "schooling" they
needed to enable them to make a sturdy fight with or
against the world, but the idea of going as clerks or
shopmen to a city like Glasgow or even Edinburgh
was utterly repulsive to their feelings.

They were sons of a proud Highland chief, although
a poor one.  Alas! how often poverty and pride are to
be seen, arm in arm, in bonnie Scotland.  But
anyhow, they were M'Vaynes.  Besides, the wild country
in which they had spent most of their lives until now,
had imbued them with romance.

Is that to be wondered at?  Did not romance dwell
everywhere around them?  Did they not breathe it
in the very air that blew from off the mountains, and
over the heathery moorlands?  Did it not live in the
dark waving pine forests, and in the very cliffs that
overhung the leaden lakes, cliffs whereon the eagle had
his eyry?  Was it not heard in the roar of the cataract,
and seen in the foaming rapids of streams that chafed
its every boulder obstructing their passage to yonder
ocean wild and wide?  Yes, and Duncan was proud of
that romance, and proud too, with a pride that is
unknown in England of the grand story of his
never-conquered country.

And so we cannot be astonished to find the three
lads sitting together, in solemn conclave, on a bright
summer's forenoon, far away on a green brae that
overlooked Glenvoie.

Indeed, they had come here seriously to discuss their
future.

Viking was lying close to Duncan with his great
loving lump of a head on the boy's lap.

"You see," Duncan was saying, "it is precious hard
for lads like us, who haven't any money to get a kind
of a start in the world.  If we could only get a
beginning, I feel certain we should need no more.  But our
father is poor, Frank!"

"Heigho!" sighed Frank, "and so, alas! is mine."

"I know," continued Duncan, "that he would scrape
the needful together somehow if we asked him.  He
could not sell any portion of the estate, because it is
entailed, but I know that father would try hard to
raise enough money to send Conal and me to sea as
apprentices."

"And you really think you'll go to sea?" said Frank.

"As certain as sunrise, Frank.  Mind I don't expect
to find things quite so rosy as books paint them, but
to sea I go for all that, and so will Conal."

"And so will I," cried Frank determinedly.  "For
my father is poorer far than yours.  But I won't go
before the mast, as I think you mean to."

"No?"

"No! because I have an uncle who has already promised
to give me a little lift in life, and I haven't got
so much Highland pride as you, so I'll ask him to
apprentice me.

"I wonder," he added, "if dear old Captain Talbot
would have me?"

"Oh," cried Duncan, "I had entirely forgotten.  I
have a letter from Talbot.  He has given up the
coasting trade, and is now in the Mediterranean,
sailing betwixt London and Italy, a merchant ship, and
I'm sure he will be glad to take you.  He'll be back at
the port of London in September.  Why, Frank, old
man, you're in luck.

"And as for Conal and I, we shall go before the mast."

"I'm sorry for you, boys."

"But you needn't be.  Not the slightest wee bit.
Many an officer in the merchant service, ay, and in the
Royal Navy as well, has entered through the hawsehole."

"That means risen from the ranks, doesn't it?"

"Something very like it."

"Well," said Conal, "is it all arranged?"

"I think so," replied Duncan.  "And the sooner we
set about putting our resolves into force the better,
I think."

Then he sighed as he bent down and gave poor
Vike's honest head a good hug, and I'm not sure there
wasn't a tear in his eye as he said:

"Poor Vike! your master is going away where he
can't take you.  But you'll be good, won't you, till we
come back again, and look well after your little
mistress, Flora.  I know you will, doggie."

If ever grief was depicted in a dog's looks, and we
know it often is, you might have seen it in Viking's
now.  I do not mean to say that he knew all his
master said.  He was too young for that, but he could
tell from the mere intonation of Duncan's voice that
grief was in store for all.

----

Chief M'Vayne was much averse at first to his sons
becoming mere boys before the mast, but Duncan and
Conal were determined, and so he came round at last
and gave his consent.

I am going to say just as little as I can about the
parting.  Partings are painful to write about.

Not only the boys but M'Vayne himself were heroic.
It does not do for clansmen to show weakness, but the
mother's tears fell thick and fast, and poor Flora was
to be pitied.

It was the first cloud of sorrow that had fallen upon
her young life, and she felt desolate in the extreme.
She believed she would never survive it.  She would
have no pleasure or joy now in wandering over the
hills and through the forests dark and wild.

"I will pray for you both."  These were about the
last words she said.

"And for me too, Florie," said Frank sadly.

"Oh, yes, and for you."

Then he kissed her.

For the first time--wondering to himself, if it
would be the last.

He had gotten a pretty little ring for her, with blue
stones and an anchor on it.  And of this she was very
proud.

"Mind," he said, "you're a sailor's sweetheart now."

Then they mounted the trap that was to drive them
to the nearest station, and away they went, waving
hands and handkerchiefs, of course, until a bend in the
road and a few pine-trees shut the dear old home from
their view.




.. _`the terrors of the ocean`:

.. class:: center large

   BOOK II.

   THE CRUISE OF THE *FLORA M'VAYNE.*

.. vspace:: 3

CHAPTER I.--THE TERRORS OF THE OCEAN.
=====================================

Long months have passed away since that sad
parting at Glenvoie; a parting that seemed to
raise our young heroes at once from the careless
happiness of boyhood to the serious earnestness of
man's estate.

They had stayed in town until Captain Talbot
arrived.  He was just the same brave and jolly sailor
that Duncan had first known.

Would he take Frank as his apprentice?

Why, he would be glad to have the whole three.
They were so bold and bright, there was not the least
fear of their not getting on.

Wouldn't they come?  His present ship was not so
large as he would like it to be, but he would make
shift somehow.

But Duncan, while he thanked him, was firm.

"Well," said Talbot, "I'll tell you what I'll do for
you, for somehow I have acquired a liking for you all
Frank here, then, shall come with me, not as an
apprentice belonging to the owners, but as a friend who
wishes to get well up in seamanship and eventually
pass even for master-mariner.  You see, Frank, you
will be rated as apprentice to me, and not to the
company, else they would hold you to the same ship for
years.  And my reason is this: in about a year or a
little over, I shall, please God, have a ship of my own.
It is to be a great project, but I am promised
assistance, and many of the savants in London say the
project is well worthy of the greatest success.  I shall
voyage first to the Antarctic regions, and come home
with a paying voyage of oil and skins of the
sea-elephants, and this shall smooth my way to exploring
further south than any ship has yet reached.

"So you see, Duncan, as you and your brother will
not be bound to any tie as regards apprenticeship, you
can both sail with me to the South Pole, and who
knows but you may yet become the Nansens of the
Antarctic."

"Too good to be true," said Duncan laughing; "but
I'm just determined to do my best, and no one can do
more."

"Bravo, lad!" cried the colonel, laying his hand on
Duncan's shoulder.  "And you remember what the
poet says:

   |   "''T is not in mortals to command success,
   |   But we'll do more...; we'll deserve it'"

.. vspace:: 2

"Brave words, Colonel Trelawney," cried Talbot.
"Why, sir, scraps of heroic verse have helped me along
all through life.  I'm a ship-master now, with a bit in
bank.  But my first voyage was to the Arctic
and I had hardly clothes enough to keep out
the terrible weather.  My mother was a poor widow
in Dundee, and I--being determined to go to
sea--became a stowaway.  I hid in a coal-bunker, and it
came on to blow, so that I was very nearly killed with
the shifting coals that cannonaded against my ribs.

"Luckily the storm did not last long, but when
they hauled me out at last I was as black as a
chimney-sweep and covered with blood.

"I was too ill to be lifted and landed at Lerwick.
The doctor said I was dying.  The first mate, who was
never sober, said, 'Serve the young beggar right!'  But,
boys, I knew better.  Dundee boys don't die
worth shucks, and so I was on deck in ten days' time.
There were two dogs on board, and my duty was to
feed and look after them, and also to assist the cook.

"I roughed it, I can tell you, lads; but, Lord bless
you, it did me a power of good.  We were out for six
months, and by that time I was as strong as a young
mule.  How old was I?  Oh, not more than sixteen.
But I felt a man.  And I could reef and steer now,
and splice a rope, and do all sorts of things.  For the
bo's'n had taken me in hand, and right kind he was.

"Ah! but that rascally mate!  A long black,
red-cheeked chap he was, and not a bit like a sailor, but
he kept up his spite against me, and, when half-seas
over--which he always was when not completely
drunk--he would let fly at me with a belaying-pin, a
marling-spike, or anything else he could lay his hands on.

"'Why don't you land him one," said the bo's'n one
day, 'right from the shoulder?'

"'That would be mutiny, wouldn't it?' said I.

"'Nonsense, lad, the skipper likes you, and he
wouldn't log you for it.'

"I determined to take the bo's'n's advice next time
the drunken mate hit me.

"Well, I hadn't long to wait.  You see I had come to
really love the dogs under my charge.  So one day
the mate kicked one of them rather roughly out of
his way.

"'Don't you dare kick that dog,' I cried; 'they are
both in my charge.'

"How well do I remember that forenoon.  We were
on the return voyage, running before a light breeze,
with every scrap of canvas set, low and aloft, and the
sun shining bonnie and warm.

"But the mate grew purple with rage when I
checked him.  He could hardly speak.  He could only
stutter.

"'You, you beggar's brat,' he shouted, 'I'll give you
a lesson.'

"He rushed to pull out a belaying-pin.

"I tossed off my jacket and threw it on the top of
the capstan.

"I twisted the belaying-pin out of his hands before
you could have said 'knife'.

"'Fight fair, you drunken scamp!' I cried.

"Pistols and rifles lay ready loaded in boxes at the
top of the cabin companion, and he made a stride or
two as if to take one out.

"'Mutiny!' he muttered, 'rank mutiny!'

"I sprang between him and the box, and dealt him
a square left-hander that made him reel.  I followed
this up with a rib-starter, then with one on the nose.

"Down he went, and he actually prayed for mercy.

"That bulbous nose of his was well tapped, and
there was no fear of him taking apoplexy for a while
anyhow.

"But when I let him up he seemed to lose control of
his senses, for the demon drink was now in the
ascendant.  He faced me no longer, however, but rushed
for poor, faithful Collie, and before I could prevent it,
had seized and pitched him overboard.

"The men, untold, rushed to haul the foreyard aback
and to lower a boat.

"But he checked them.

"'What! lower a boat for a dog?' he cried.

"'Lower a boat for a man then,' I shouted, 'and just
as I was I leapt upon the bulwark and dived off it.
Next minute I was alongside Collie.  Ay, lads, and
alongside something else.  A huge shark sailed past
us, and passed us so near I could almost have touched
him.  He must have been fully fifteen feet long.[1]  I
knew that nothing but splashing and shouting could
keep him at bay, and I did both as well as I knew how to.'"

.. vspace:: 2

[1] The *Scymnus borealis*, or Greenland shark,
is often eighteen to twenty feet in length.

.. vspace:: 2

"But the boat came quickly to our rescue, and we
were soon safe on board.  The skipper liked me, and
did not log my mutinous conduct.  In fact he became
my friend, and I was apprenticed to his very ship.
So I had many and many a voyage to the Sea of Ice
after this.

"There is a glamour about this weird and wonderful
frozen ocean, boys, that none can resist who have ever
been under its bewitching spell.  It is on me now, and
this it is which has determined me to seek soon for
adventures in the Antarctic, which very few have ever
sought to explore.

"Now, Duncan and Conal, I'll tell you what I shall
do with you.  There is a big Australian ship to sail
from Southampton in about a month.  The captain is
a personal friend of mine, and will do anything for
you.  I shall give you a letter.

"Mind this, he is strict service, and if you do your
duty, as I'm sure you will, you'll soon have a friend on
the quarter-deck."

Captain Talbot--or Master-mariner Talbot as he
liked best to be called--had been as good as his word,
and now our young heroes were far away at sea.

The *Ocean's Pride* was a full-rigged Aberdeen
clipper-built vessel, and could show a pair of clean
heels to almost any other ship in the trade.  The
skipper and his two mates were all thorough sailors,
and gentlemen at heart.  The skipper, whose name
was Wilson, soon began to take an interest in Duncan
and Conal, and knowing that they were studying in
their idle moments, invited them to come daily to his
own cabin, and there for a whole hour he used to
teach them all he could.

Duncan could soon be trusted to take sights, and
even "lunars", and gave every evidence of possessing
the steadiness and grit that goes so far to make a
thorough British sailor.

They touched at the Cape in due time, and Conal
acted as clerk or "tally-boy" while cargo was being
landed and fresh stock taken on board.

The boys found time to have a look at the town.
They went with one of the mates who had been often
here before.

Well, the hills all around, clad in their summer coats
of dazzling heaths and geraniums, were quite a sight
to see.  But the town itself they voted dismally slow,
and so I myself have found it, there being so many
heavy-headed Dutchmen therein.

They were not a bit sorry, therefore, when they
found themselves once more on the heaving billows.

And the billows around the Cape of Good Hope do
heave too with a vengeance.

Such mountain waves Duncan could not have believed
existed anywhere.  Tall and raking though she was,
the *Ocean's Pride* was all but buried when down in
the trough of the waves.

There was but a six-knot breeze when they started
to stretch away and away across that seemingly
illimitable ocean betwixt the Cape and Australia.  Oh
such a lonesome sea it is, reader!  Six thousand miles
of water, water, water, and often never a sign of life
in the sky above or in the sea below.

There was, as I have said, but a light wind to begin
with, and it was dead astern, so that stunsails were
set, and the great ship looked like some wonderful
bird of the main, as she sailed, with her wings
out-spread, eastward and eastward ho!

But before noon the sky in the west began to
darken, and great rock-shaped or castellated clouds
rolled up from the horizon.  Snow-white were they on
top, where the sun's rays struck them, but dark and
black below.

"Snug ship!" was the order now.

In came the stunsails, the men working right merrily,
and singing as they worked.  In came royals and
top-gallant sails, and close-reefed were the topsails.
The captain was no coward, but right well he knew
that the storm coming quickly up astern would be no
child's play.

Nor was it.

A vivid flash of lightning and great-gun thunder
first indicated the approach of the gale.

Then away in the west a long line of foam was seen
approaching.  In an inconceivably short space of time
it struck the ship with fearful violence, and though
she sprung forward like a frightened deer and dipped
her prow into a huge wave, she seemed engulfed in
raging seas.  The skipper had battened down, but so
much water had been taken on board that the good
clipper could not for a time shake herself clear.
Perhaps the shivered bulwarks helped to save the ship.

In a few minutes she was rushing before the wind
at a good twelve knots an hour.

"What a blessing it is," said Captain Wilson, "that
we got snug in time!"

"Yes, sir," said the mate, "and it's an ill wind that
blows nobody good.  Why, this gale is all in our
favour, and will help us along."

Our heroes had far from a pleasant time, however,
for the next few days.  Then wind and sea went down,
and peace reigned once more on the decks, and in the
rigging of the good ship *Ocean's Pride*.

The splendid cities they visited when the vessel at
last arrived in Australia quite dazzled our boys.  And
as the English language was spoken everywhere they
felt quite at home.

Captain Wilson seemed to take a pride in having
Duncan and Conal with him, and he introduced them
as friends wherever he went.

Both lads were handsome, and in the city of
Melbourne a rumour got abroad that they were of noble
birth, and were serving before the mast for the mere
romance of the thing.  Well, even the Earl of Aberdeen
was once found in the guise of an ordinary seaman;
but there was something more than romance in our
heroes' situation.  However, the report, which they
always contradicted, did them no harm, and they were
invited to more houses than one, being asked,
moreover, to come in their sailor's clothes.

The boys obeyed.  In fact they had none other, but
they had a kind of best suit, and very well the broad
blue collar and black sailor's-knotted handkerchief
became their handsome young faces.

I don't think I am far wrong in saying that some
of the Australian ladies fell in love with them.

But that is a mere detail.

Now, having reached Australia, Duncan had about
half a mind, more or less, to try his luck at the gold
diggings.

He broached the subject to Captain Wilson.

"Well," replied the skipper, "mind, though I should
be grieved to part with you, I would rather put another
spoke in your wheel than hinder you, if I thought
there was the ghost of a chance of your making your
fortune.  But I don't think there is."

"Then we shall be advised by you," said Duncan.

So after a very pleasant time spent in Australia the
*Ocean's Pride* spread her wings once more to the breeze
and sailed for distant Japan.

Thence homewards round stormy Cape Horn.  It
took them six weeks to weather the Cape, so close was
the ice.

But worse was to befall them, alas! than this.

They were now bearing up for home.  Right cheerily
too, for they had caught the trades, and finally fell
into the doldrums in crossing the equator.

Here they tumbled about for no less than three
weeks, not a breath of wind blowing all this time to
help them along.

But it came at last, and they were free.




.. _`a fearful experience`:

CHAPTER II.--A FEARFUL EXPERIENCE.
==================================

Once more the *Ocean's Pride* was spanking along
before a delightful breeze with the dark blue
sea sparkling in the sunlight around her, and Mother
Carey's chickens, as sailors call the stormy petrels,
flitting past and re-past her stern.

Seamen say these birds are always the forerunners
of storm and tempest.  This is not so, but in this case
the prophecy turned out to be a correct one.  A
fearful hurricane or tornado struck the ship, and raged
for days and days.

There was no such thing as battling against it.  So
it ended in their being driven far away to the west
into unknown or little frequented seas.  I am wrong
in saying it ended.  For the end was of a far more
terrible nature than anything I ever heard of before,
or ever experienced.

On the fourth day the tempest seemed almost
played out, and the sky was brightening somewhat in
the east.

The skipper was rubbing his hands and saying to
his mate:

"I think we shall be able to shake a reef out before long."

"So do I," was the cheery answer.

Both the young fellows M'Vayne were below at
present, and the vessel was battened down.

"Oh, look, look!" cried the mate, seizing the skipper
by the arm and pointing fearfully towards the east.

"Good Lord preserve us!" said Captain Wilson in terror.

And well he might be so, for yonder, quite blotting
out the clear strip of sky, a huge wave or bore had
arisen.  It was of semi-lunar shape, and must have
been fifty feet high at the very least.  The top all
along was one mass of foam.

Nearer and nearer it came!

The sailor men crouched in fear, or hastened to
make themselves fast by ropes' ends to rigging or
shroud.

And now the fine vessel is struck--is wallowing in
the midst of that hurricane-tossed turmoil of waters--is
on her beam-ends, without any apparent hope of
recovery.

But recover she did after a time, and the ocean
wave swept on.

What a wreck!  The half-drowned men, or those
who were left alive, gasped for breath as they stared
wildly around.  Two masts gone by the boards, only
the pitiful foremast left standing; every boat staved
and washed away, bulwarks gaping like sheep hurdles,
and the poop crushed in.

And the officers where were they?  Gone!

Yes--and my story is told from the life and the
death--not only bold Captain Wilson himself but
both his mates had been swept overboard and drowned.

Five men were missing; nor had all escaped down
below.  The cook was severely injured, and but for
the presence of mind and speed of two ordinary
seamen, the ship would have caught fire, for the blazing
coals had been dashed out of the range and ignited
ropes and twine that lay not far off.

And poor Duncan!  He had been dashed to leeward
and so stunned that his brother and a sailor who had
picked him up, believed him to be dead.

For three days he lay unconscious, but in two more
days he was to all appearance himself again.

Although suffering from a bad scalp wound, he was
able to go on deck.

And sad indeed was the sight he now beheld.  With
the binnacle washed away, without an officer to guide
or direct the vessel; and the men, in almost hourly
expectation of death should the wind spring up again
once more, had allowed the ship to drift with the
current.  They were helpless, ay, and hopeless.

And I am sorry to add that many of them had
found their way to the spirit room, and were lying
on deck drunk and asleep.

Duncan now proved himself the right man--or boy,
for he was but little over seventeen--in the right
place.

He called the hands aft.

"Men," he said, "we cannot continue in this state;
some effort must be made to save our lives and the
valuable cargo."

"Ah! young sir," said the bo's'n sadly, "all our
officers are dead.  There is no one to guide or
navigate the ship.  We must drift on till we strike reef or
rock and so go to pieces.

"Never fear, sir, we'll die like true-born Britons."

"But," cried Duncan, "there need be no dying about
it.  I myself can navigate the ship, if sextant and
chronometer still are safe."

They crowded round this brave though youthful
navigator and shook him by the hand, while tears of
joy streamed down many a sea-browned
weather-beaten cheek.

"Can you, sir?  Oh, can you?  Then take charge
and we will obey."

Luckily the rudder and wheel were uninjured, and
as soon as he had taken sights and found out where
he was, he had a jib and new foresails set, the helm
was put up, and slowly the *Ocean's Pride* began to
sail for the nearest land.

This was one of the Azores.  Very far away indeed,
but still Duncan hoped to reach it ere long and in
safety.

The young fellow's orders followed each other
quickly enough, and were obeyed with great alacrity.

The spirit-room was locked, and an armed sentry
placed over it.  He was to bludgeon any man who
should dare to approach it with intent.

Several of the worst cases of drunkards he put in irons.

Then all hands were told off to temporarily repair
the ship.

The poop was mended and made water-tight, and
the bulwarks roughly seen to.  This occupied a whole
day, and as soon as daylight succeeded darkness the
busy crew were at work once more.

There were several spare spars on board, and the
men now set about rigging a couple of jury-masts,
which, though only carrying fore-and-aft sails, would
greatly add to the good ship's speed.

But more than this had to be done, for she had
shipped quite a deal of water, and the donkey-engine
had to be repaired and rigged to get clear of it.

While work was going on cheerily enough a poor
drink-demented wretch, who had escaped from below,
rushed wildly up, and sprang with a shriek, that none
who heard it ever forgot, right into the sea.

There was not a boat to lower, and small use would
it have been anyhow, for those who looked fearfully
over the bulwarks saw but a red circle on the waves,
and rising bubbles.  It was the poor man's blood and
breath, for he had been torn down by a shark.

The other cases recovered, and begged of Duncan
not to log them.

The young acting-commander promised he would
not, and they returned to duty.

It was a long and a tedious voyage to the Azores,
but every one was for the most part happy now,
although still sad when they thought of the awful
catastrophe which had caused such loss of life.

At the town where the *Ocean's Pride* at last lay
at anchor, additional repairs were made, and in due
time Duncan sailed with a fair wind for England's shore.

It was the month of July when the ship was once
more lying alongside the quay, and hearing of her
terrible adventures the people crowded down in
hundreds, and would have crowded on board, too, had not
Duncan given strict orders that no one should cross
the gangway, except on business.

This did not prevent reporters from getting over the
side, however, and although Duncan was very reticent,
the whole town was soon ringing with his praise.

But the owners were still more delighted.  The
cargo was valued at fully five-and-twenty thousand
pounds, and the young navigator had saved it all.

A meeting was held at which it was unanimously
agreed to present Duncan with the very handsome
sum of one thousand, and his brother, who had been
but little less active than himself, with five hundred.

Duncan was indeed a happy young fellow now.
But his good luck did not end here, for on the fourth
day of the arrival of the *Ocean's Pride*, who should
step on board but jolly Captain Talbot himself, and,
neatly dressed in the uniform of a ship's apprentice,
Frank walked alongside of him--on his port beam in fact.

That was a real happy meeting, as a Yankee would say.

Surely Frank never looked better nor more manly.
He had lost all the looks of the "tender-foot", and was
well coloured and hardy.

And Talbot himself was as usual bronzed and jolly.
The honest grip that he gave Duncan's hand showed, too,
that he was hearty and strong as ever.  It was not a
few fingers that this bold sailor presented to a friend,
but the whole hand.

"And how are you, my brick of a boy?  But I
needn't ask when I look into those bright eyes of
yours.  Ay, and I've heard of your clever doings too.
Do you see the papers?"

"I haven't much time just at present," replied
Duncan, "nor has Conal here either."

"Ah, Conal, right glad to see you!  But do you know
that your brother is a hero?  Why, all the newspapers
from Land's End to John o' Groats are singing his
praises!"

"It won't make a bit of difference to Duncan, sir,"
said Conal, somewhat proudly.

"But really, Captain Talbot"--this from Duncan
himself--"I don't know what I should have done
without Conal.  But come into the saloon, sir, such as
it is, for we were terribly knocked about."

"Yes, and it surprises me that you have got things
so ship-shape again as you have.  You've heard from
your daddy?"

"Ay, and Florie too, and I'm going to run down for
a spell as soon as I can get paid off."

"And I'll go with you, and Frank here as well.
Won't you, lad?"

"Like a hundredweight of gunpowder, sir, with a
spark put to it."

"And now, sir, sit down; I have half an hour to
spare.  Steward, bring the wine and biscuits.  And
how goes the project, Captain Talbot?"

"Getting on splendidly.  I've formed a company,
and nearly all the shares are sold, but really 'twixt
you and me and the binnacle, boys, I've kept the most
myself."

"Well," cried Conal laughing, "I and my brother
are men of vast wealth now--ahem!--we shall have
all that is left."

"No, you mustn't part with all your doubloons.
Just half.  The other shall be put in a bank as a kind
of nest-egg, don't you see?"

"Very well," said Duncan, "we always did take
your advice, and so we will now."

"That's right!  Old Ben Talbot never gave a boy
bad counsel yet."

"And the ship, sir?"

"Well, the ship's a barque, and a beauty she is.
About eight hundred tons, and although not quite a
clipper, she'll make up in strength what she'll lack in
speed.

"A whaler she was," he continued, "but we have
given her a rare cleaning.  She's as sweet now as a
nut.  Double-skinned is she, and the bows all
between the bends are solid teak, shod in front with
iron.  But you shall see her as soon as we haul out of dock."

"I'm taking two mates; both have passed and own
certificates.  You, Duncan, shall be acting third mate,
and Conal I'll rate as auxiliary.  You haven't neglected
your studies, have you?"

"No, sir, and both myself and Conal mean to go in
for our first exam, as soon as we get to London."

"Bravo!  But I won't hinder you longer.  Frank
shall stay on with you a bit, and I expect you all to
come and dine with me to-night at my hotel.  Can you?"

"All but me," said Conal.  This wasn't quite grammatical,
but it was truth.  "One of us must be ship-keeper."

"That's right.  Never shirk your duty for anyone
or anything.  Do you remember the eulogy on Tom
Bowling--when stark and stiff?"

And the pure and manly voice in which Talbot
sang a verse of Dibdin's celebrated song, proved that,
though this true sailor was over fifty, he was as hale
and strong and hearty as many young fellows of
twenty.  Ay, and ten times more so, for at the present
time thousands of lads ruin their health at
schools--*and not from study either*.

   |   "His form was of the manliest beauty;
   |     His heart was kind and soft;
   |   Faithful below he did his duty,
   |     And now he's gone aloft."

.. vspace:: 2

Talbot was going, and Duncan was seeing him across
the gangway.

"Oh, by the by," he said, still retaining his old
friend's hand, "I'm a perfect fool."

"No, no, Duncan; there are other folks' opinions to
be taken on that subject."

"But I was actually going to let you away without
even asking the name of your ship."

"Say our ship, my lad."

"Well, our ship."

"And you'd never guess her name, but your dear wee
tot of a sister christened her, and the barque's name
is the *Flora M'Vayne*."

"Well, I am pleased."

"To-night, then; six o'clock to a tick."

And away went the jolly skipper.




.. _`bound for southern seas of ice`:

CHAPTER III.--BOUND FOR SOUTHERN SEAS OF ICE.
=============================================

Frank and Duncan spent a very happy evening
indeed with their friend Talbot.

Without the aid of wine either, which no one with
youth on his side should require to make him gay.
But I do not mind telling you that the old skipper
himself had a drop of the "rosy" as he called it.  And
the "rosy" meant rum, aromatic, and of great age.

Well, there was quite a deal to talk about; they told
each other their adventures, and they spoke also of
their future prospects, and the cruise of the *Flora
M'Vayne*.

"She will be furnished and fitted complete," the
captain said.  "We shall make sure enough of the sea
elephants, but I'm going to tap a whale or two also, if
I don't find elephants enough.  And, bother me, Conal,"
he added, "I don't see any reason why you shouldn't
write a book about our cruise."

It was long past ten before the merry little meeting
broke up.  This isn't late for land-lubbers, but with
sailors it is different.  "Early to bed when on shore"
is their motto.

----

It was early in August--only the first week, in fact--when
the boys and their captain found themselves
back once more at Glenvoie.  The colonel had expressed
a wish to run down with them, but he had to defer it,
owing to the surly way in which his liver asserted
itself.

They found everything very much in the same state
as when they left it, only Florie was now fourteen, and
far more demure.

It is Burns who says:

   |   "In Heaven itself I'll ask nae mair,
   |   Than just a Highland welcome".

.. vspace:: 2

And a true Highland welcome they had.  There
were no tears shed except some of joy, which trickled
over the somewhat pale cheeks of Mrs. M'Vayne
herself when she noted how manly her boys had grown.

Frank hadn't grown an inch.  Nor did he want to.
You do not require very tall or leggy men as sailors.
But the young fellow's heart was in the right place,
and he was even more full of genuine fun and humour
than ever.

But if we talk about a Highland welcome, what shall
I term that which poor Vike accorded to Duncan and
Conal, and in a lesser degree to Frank.  Lucky it was
that the meeting took place out-of-doors.

Had it been inside, this splendid Newfoundland
would undoubtedly have knocked down tables, and
demolished crockery in his mad glee.

As it was, he contented himself with knocking first
Duncan and then Conal down, and licking their faces
and hair as they lay, helpless, on their backs.

Then, laughing down both sides, as it seemed, with
white teeth flashing and hair afloat behind him, he set
out for a circular spin by way of getting rid of his
superfluous feelings.  For the time being indeed he
had really resolved himself into a kind of hairy
hurricane or tornado.  But he gradually became calmer, and
when he entered the house at last, where dinner was
already laid, he threw himself down by Duncan's side
with a sort of sixty-pounder sigh, as much as to say:

"I'm the happiest dog in Scotland, for I thought I'd
never, never see my master again.  And now that I
have got him I mean to stick to him."

And he kept to that determination too, for nowhere
would he sleep that night except in the boys' room.

----

All the dear old rambles over moorland and mountain
and through the dark depths of the forest, were
resumed next day, and kept up for over a week.  I do
not mean to describe these happy days, for soon indeed
must we sail far, far away to wilder scenes, and our
adventures will be more exciting than any that ever
our heroes had in the romantic Highlands.

Florie was still Frank's innocent little sweetheart.
So he told her, at all events, as he made her a present
of a lovely locket with his own portrait in it and a copy
also of hers.

Not that Frank was proud of his phiz.  Oh, no; for
in fact no one would have called him a real beauty, nor
say his features were altogether regular.

But he had eyes that sparkled with the radiance of
health, and his face changed in expression with almost
every sentence he uttered.

He would have made an excellent actor.  He had
been told so more than once, and his answer was: "Well,
I shall turn an actor when all the seas run dry".

And now having bidden farewell to Glenvoie, our
heroes had to lie at Dundee for a whole week finishing
the fitting-out of the good ship *Flora M'Vayne*.  It
was really a tiresome time, for the constant arrivals of
visitors to see the ship and the crew that were about
to embark on so long and so perilous a voyage was
incessant all day long.

Nobody, therefore, was sorry to hear the last cheer
that arose from an assembled multitude, although it
was a right kindly one, and though prayers and
blessings followed the barque.

That same evening they were far away from the
eastern coast, for this was a lee shore, and they were
wise to have a good offing before making direct for
the south.

The barque might have been called somewhat clumsy,
but nevertheless she carried a splendid spread of canvas,
and sailed remarkably close to the wind.

Captain Talbot had told Duncan that he had made
the *Flora M'Vayne* as sweet as a nut, and certainly he
had done so.  No one to walk her decks could ever
have guessed she had been a greasy, grimy blubber-hunter
not so long ago.

Why, everything on deck looked as bright and as
clean as a brand-new sovereign.  The quarter-deck was
as white as wheaten straw, the binnacle was an
ornament, that would have looked excellently well in the
best of drawing-rooms.  The brass and hard-wood
work were as bright as silver, every rope's end was
coiled on deck, as if the barque had been an
old-fashioned man-o'-war, and the men were all suitably
dressed and tidy.  The bo's'n was a most particular
man, and, although some men chewed tobacco, to have
expectorated anywhere on deck, would have been an
offence for which a rope's-ending would be well merited.

The galley was of the newest type; so, too, was the
donkey engine, and this would be used at sea when
very far from land for the purpose of condensing water.

All told, the mustered crew were eight-and-thirty.
The men forward had been picked by Talbot himself,
and every one of them had been to the Arctic regions
more than once.

They were therefore good ice-men, and neither frost
nor cold was likely to have any terrors for them.  Nor
the great green waves of far southern lands, that
somehow always sing in the frosty air as they sweep past
a vessel's sides.

But there was something else on board which I
should draw especial attention to, and this was nothing
less than a huge balloon.  It was not filled, of course,
but the means to inflate it were all on board, and
having reached the great Antarctic ice-wall or barrier,
the captain meant to make an aërial voyage of
discovery, farther to the south than any traveller had
ever been before.

There is nothing I love better than acts of daring
and wild adventure, and Talbot was certainly to be
commended on this score.

His balloon was certainly not anything like the
size of Andrée's, yet it was capable of rising and
floating for an indefinite period with three men, and
provisions for as many months.

A special house had been built for this great
uninflated balloon between the fore and main masts, and
on each side, bottom upwards, lay the whalers, or boats
with bows at each end, and steered by an oar only.
These were to be used in the fishery.

The ship's ballast was water-filled tanks, and tanks
laden with coals.  But Talbot hoped to return to
Scottish or English shores with ballast of quite a
different sort, and better paying--oil, to wit.

The *Flora M'Vayne* was to touch nowhere on her
voyage out until she reached the Cape.  That at least
was the good skipper's intention, but circumstances
alter cases, as will presently be seen.

They had fine weather all the way till far past the
dreaded Bay of Biscay.  On this occasion two boys in
a dinghy might have crossed it.  But it is not to be
supposed that they could go on for a very long time
without encountering what Jack calls dirty weather.
And so when, in about the latitude of Lisbon, and to
the east of the Azores, it came on to blow, no one was
a bit surprised.

"We'll have a gale, mate," said the captain; "but
though abeam, or rather on the bow, we have plenty
of sea-room; and on the whole I sha'n't be sorry, for I
really want to see how the *Flora* behaves."

The wind, even as he spoke, began to roar more
wildly through the rigging, but in gusts or squalls,
that at times rose for a few minutes to almost
hurricane pitch.

Before the storm had come on many beautiful gulls
had been screaming around the barque and diving for
morsels of food that Frank was throwing to them,
but now they disappeared.  Back they flew to the
rocks that frown over the waters of their sea-girt
homes.  Little dark chips of stormy petrels, however,
continued to dash from wave-top to wave-top, and for
once in a way, they brought tempest.

But the ship was now eased, for the lurid sun was
setting, and a dark and moonless night must follow.
The men were hardly down from aloft when the
storm seemed to increase, but it blew more steadily, so
she was kept away a point or two, and now went
dancing over the heavy seas as if she imagined she
was the best clipper ever built.

A little heavy-headed she proved, however, so that
she shipped a good deal of water over the bows,
otherwise the thumping, thudding, buffeting waves seemed
to make not the slightest impression on her.

The chief cabin or dining-saloon was down below,
there being no poop, but a flush-deck all along.  Both
Frank and Duncan were off duty, and, seated in this
small but comfortable saloon, the former could not
help remarking on the strange feeling and sound of
each heavy wave that struck the ship abeam.  She
appeared to be hit by a huge, soft boxing-glove, about
a thousand times as large as any we ever use.

Immediately after there was the whishing sound of
water on the deck, but although the vessel was heeled
over somewhat by every awful blow, she took no
other notice.

"Batter away, old Neptune," the barque seemed to
say; "it amuses you, and it doesn't hurt me in the
slightest."

About two bells in the first watch, Talbot came
below, and supper was ordered.

His face was radiant, but shining with wet.  The
steward, however, assisted him out of his oil-skins and
sou'wester, then, having wiped his face with his
pocket-handkerchief, he sat down.

"Well," said Duncan, "Frank and I are waiting to
hear the verdict."

"Why, it is this," said the skipper.  "The barque is
a duck, and well deserves the name of *Flora M'Vayne*.
I don't believe a hurricane could hurt her, and she'll
chuck the small icebergs on one side of her as I
should chuck a cricket-ball.  And ain't I hungry just.
Sit in, boys.  It's all night in with you lads, isn't it?"

"Not quite," said Duncan.  "I kept the last
dog-watch, and don't go on again till four."

Viking got up and seated himself by his
well-beloved master's side.

He licked Duncan's hand, as much as to say, "When
you go on deck so shall I."

But his master seemed to divine his thoughts.

"No, my good dog," he said, "you must stay below
to-night, else the seas would sweep you off, and what
should I do then?"

After supper Frank got out his fiddle and played
for fully half an hour, then he and Duncan, who both
occupied the same state-room, retired.

As a sailor always sleeps most soundly when the
wind blows high, and he is really "rock'd in the
cradle of the deep", it is almost unnecessary to say
that these lads dropped soundly off almost as soon as
their heads touched the pillows.

Nor did they awake until eight bells at the end of
the darksome middle watch, when Conal came down
to call them.

"Oil-skins, Conal?"

"Ay, Duncan, and you'll need them too.  Better lock
Vike in your cabin."

"That is what I mean to do."

Poor Viking did not half like it though.  There is
no dog in the world makes a better sailor's companion
when far away at sea than a Newfoundland, and I
speak from experience.  But such dogs do not
appreciate danger sufficiently high, nor have they
good enough sea-legs to face a storm and walk the
deck of a heaving ship.  Therefore they often get
washed into the lee scuppers.

On the present occasion Vike made up his mind to
be as naughty a dog as he could.

"I shall wake the skipper," he told Duncan, speaking
through the key-hole as it were.  "Wowff!" he
barked.  "Wowff! wowff!  What do you think of that?"

Well, the sound could certainly be heard high over
the roaring of the wind and the dash of angry waves.

The captain heard it in his dreams; but it takes
more than the barking of a dog to awake a sailor born.
So Talbot just hitched himself round, and went off to
sleep on the other tack.

By breakfast time both wind and sea had gone
down, and there was every expectation of fine weather
once again.

"No damage done is there, mate?" said Talbot to Morgan.

"No, sir, nothing worth speaking about.  Some of
the coal tanks got a drop o' water in them, that's all."

"Well, that will make them last the longer.  But,
mind you, Morgan, I'm rather pleased than otherwise
that we've had that blow."

"So am I."

"It just shows what the barque can do."

"That's it.  If she is as good against the ice as she
is against a sea-way, then, by my song, sir, she'll take
us safely to the Antarctic, and just as safely back
home again.  Pass the sugar, sir."




.. _`on the wings of the wind`:

CHAPTER IV.--ON THE WINGS OF THE WIND.
======================================

"Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys are marching."  So
runs a line of the old Yankee war-song.

Tramp, tramp, tramp, the boys (Duncan and Frank)
were treading the deck that forenoon, talking, as sailors
do, about anything or everything that suggested itself.
And two subjects that always came to the front on
such occasions were home life and their life on the
ocean wave.

"So you thoroughly like the sea?" said Duncan.

"Well, Duncan, I never thoroughly liked anything,
you know, but I think I love a sea-life better than
most sorts of existence, with the exception, of course,
of wandering over the hills of old Glenvoie; bird-nesting
in the forests, or fishing in its beautiful streams.
Only the sea has its drawbacks."

"Yes."

"Yes, for I do think it a nuisance to have to get up
at all hours of the night to keep watch--blowing or
calm.  I always feel I should be willing to give five
years of my life for another two hours' sleep, when
the fellow shakes me by the shoulder and says, 'Eight
bells, sir, if you please'.  Just as if it would not be
eight bells whether I pleased or not.  Then, neither
the tommy nor tack is quite up to shore standard, and
one could do well enough without cockroaches about
a foot and a half long--more or less--between his
sheets, weevils in his biscuits, and spiders roasted and
ground up with his coffee.  The tea is always sea-sick
too, and hens' milk[1] isn't the best, especially if the eggs
be old and decrepit.  But I won't grumble, Duncan."


[1] An egg or two beaten up with water.  Used at sea
when no milk is to be had.


"No, I wouldn't, if I were you.  Sailors never do."

"And now you're laughing at me."

"That's nothing, Frank; one may live a long time
after being laughed at."

"Well, come along below, and I'll play you something
that will make the tear-drops trickle down that
old-fashioned Scotch nose of yours."

"Wouldn't you rather hear the wild and martial
strains of the bagpipes, my little Cockney cousin?"

"Oh, yes," answered Frank punnily, but standing
well beyond the reach of Duncan's swinger of an arm.
"I dearly love the bagpipes when--"

He hesitated.

"When what?" cried Duncan.

"When they're o'er the hills and far awa'."

Then Frank made a bolt for the companion-ladder.

It was high time, too.

Well, when Frank Trelawney had that fiddle of his
under his bit of a Cockney chin, all his troubles, if,
indeed, he had any that could be called real, were
forgotten, including weevils, hard tack, cockroaches,
and all.  For the time being, indeed, there was no one
else in the world save he himself and the violin.  And
what worlds of romance and love and beauty were
thus conjured up before him!

But even at the risk of differing from Frank, I
think a sailor's pleasures, if he is one who calls at
many and different ports, far outbalance any grievances
he may have to growl about--short of shipwreck.
What though the biscuit be hard, and one's bed like
the biscuit!  The wholesome healthy appetite one
possesses, both for biscuit and sleep, makes up for all that;
and one ought to be happy if he isn't.

But one chief enjoyment in a sailor's existence lies
in visiting so many different lands, and seeing life in
every form and shape.  He cannot help being an
anthropologist, and studying mankind.  Not, mind you,
that he lays himself out for that sort of thing; for
sailors, especially young fellows, take the world as it
comes, the rough with the smooth, or rather alternately,
only always forgetting the rough while they revel in
the smooth.  But there must always be an element of
comedy in Jack's delights, and when he goes on shore,
take my word for it, "Jack's alive, and full of fun".

I am happy to say that drinking is much in the
decrease both in the royal navy and merchant service.
Why, even since I myself can remember--and I'm not
a very aged individual--our blue-jackets were like
babies, and if not in charge of an officer when on
shore, would forget themselves, and come on board
limp enough, with black eyes and broken heads, and
garments drenched in gore.

Jack in those days really paid for his pint in more
ways than one, for if he escaped the dangers of the
shore, riot and wretchedness, the thieves and the female
harpies who lay in wait to cheat and rob him, the day
after coming off was for him a day of sadness and
mourning.

If able to stand, he had to go on duty.  Perhaps he
had no more brains than a frozen turnip; perhaps his
head felt so big that he borrowed a shoe-horn to put
on his hat, nevertheless he was drilled on deck just
all the same, and it took him four days probably to
recover his appetite and equilibrium.

----

There was every appearance now that the *Flora
M'Vayne* would have a pleasant voyage.

Talbot was kind to his fellows, and a rattling good
crew they made.  So, although they passed Madeira
and the Canary Islands to the west, they looked in at
Santiago, one of the largest in the group of Cape de
Verde Islands.

Three days were spent here, and they managed to
secure some really good water.  It was only the distilled
they used at sea, and this, to say the least of it,
is always somewhat vapourish.

The men had leave, and behaved fairly well, returning
sober and with many curios, which they hoped to
take home to their sweethearts and wives, and also
laden with fruit of many kinds, all of which is good
for the health of the sailor.

Plenty of fruit was also secured for the saloon, so
they put to sea again in capital heart and spirits.

One little incident is perhaps worth noting.  A
huge bunch of bananas was hung up to ripen against
the saloon bulkhead.  That was right enough; but
when a venomous little snake--slender in form and
about the colour of hedge-sparrow's egg--popped out
his head and neck, and whispered angrily at Conal,
then Conal called his comrades, and a court of inquiry
was held.  It was believed to be the best plan to take
the bunch of bananas on deck by means of a blacksmith's
tongs, and shake it over the sea.

But that beautiful green demon of the jungle thought
perhaps that he did not merit the honour of a sailor's
grave, so he popped out and skipped gaily into
Duncan's cabin.

"Here's a pretty go," said Conal; "and I should be
sorry to sleep in that state-room until the reptile is
found."

So a search was instituted instanter, and a dangerous
one it was.  But wherever it had taken refuge
that snake could not be found.

The young fellows took rugs on deck that night,
and slept on the planks.

Theirs was the forenoon watch, and when turning
out to keep it, lo! that little green demon glided
quietly out from Conal's very bosom, and went
leaping and rolling along the deck, aft, finally tumbling
down the skylight and on to the table where the
captain was lingering over his breakfast.

For more than a week that snake--known to be
one of the most poisonous there is--was the terror of
the ship.  He was in entire command fore and aft,
and the skipper was nowhere.  The awful, though
lovely thing, appeared in so many places, moreover,
that it was believed to be ubiquitous.  Sometimes it
would glide out of a sea-boot or a sou'wester hat.  It
was twice found in the sleeve of an oilskin-jacket,
once it curled up for the night with Viking, and once
in the pocket of the man at the wheel.

This sailor had dived his hand into the outside
pocket of his coat to find his "baccy", when, instead
of this, he felt the cold wriggling-wriggling thing;
he gave a whoop like a Somali Indian with six inches
of square-0 gin in his stomach!  The scream started
the snake from his lair, and he went girdling along
the deck and disappeared below as usual.

But he was smashed at last and heaved far into the sea.

Strange to say, Mr. Snakey, as he was called,
appeared again all alive and beautiful next morning.

"He's the d--l for sartin," said a blue-jacket.
"Dead one day and squirming around the next.  Yes,
Bill--what else can he be but the d--l, and maybe
just the same bloomin' old snake as tempted Mother
Heve in the Garding of Heden!"

But this snake was killed next, and there was no
more trouble after this.

Captain Talbot, however, issued an order that
before bananas were again brought on board the
bunches were to be well examined.  Or, in doctor's
parlance, when taken, they must be well shaken.

----

Ascension was their next place of call.  It is
generally called a rock in mid-ocean.  It is somewhat more
than that, being over seven miles in length and fully
six broad.  It is hilly, its chief peak being about
three thousand feet in height.

Well, the *Flora M'Vayne* was enabled to get coals
here anyhow, and they found the place what I might
call semi-garrisoned.  Moreover a gun-boat lay here.
The officers of the *Flora* visited her, and were
hospitably received, and invited to dinner, everyone
both afloat and on shore being anxious to receive
news from England, while the papers the *Flora* had
brought were a sort of godsend.

The beautiful island of St. Helena did not lie in
their direct route, but Tristan d'Acunha--more than
a thousand miles directly south--did, and here they
determined to cast anchor for a spell, and give the
islanders a treat.

(I have given the ordinary name to this lonesome
isle of the ocean, but correctly, I believe it should be
Tristan Da Cunha--pronounced Coon'ya.  It is really
a group of three, the chief being about twenty-one
miles in circumference, and having in its centre a
very lofty mountain peak more nearly 8000 feet than
7000 in height.)

They found about one hundred souls living on this
isle.  The settlement, or glen in which they have their
habitat, is fairly fertile, and the ubiquitous Scot is so
much in evidence here that the village is called New
Edinburgh.

It is in reality a republic, and the oldest man is
chief or governor.  The cattle and sheep number
about two thousand, and belong, of course, all in
common.  Well, they are happy enough, and crime is
unknown, the chief reason of this being perhaps that
drink is also unknown.

There were some really very pretty girls here, but
when they were assembled an evening or two after
the *Flora's* arrival in a barn to listen to the strains
of Frank's fiddle, recitations, and songs, those girls
looked laughably quaint in their strange old-fashioned
dresses.

The concert was a great success, and really the
skirl of Duncan's Highland bagpipe as he strode back
and fore on the rude stage, quite brought down the
house, to use theatrical parlance.  It almost brought
down the barn too, so thrilling and loud was it.
Never mind, Duncan received no less than three hearty
encores, and surely that was enough to please anyone.

"What a lonely life to lead!" said Conal next day
at breakfast.

"Yes," said Morgan, "and I shouldn't care to get
spliced and settle down here all my life, pretty and
all as the girls are."

"Well, you would live long and be healthy anyhow
if you did," said Captain Talbot.

The mate laughed as he helped himself to another
huge slice of barracouta.

"Never mind that, sir.  I wouldn't marry and live
in Tristan if they gave me three wives."

"But aren't these girls shy?" said Frank.  "Why, I
asked one innocently enough to give me a kiss, and
she blushed like a blood orange."

"Did she give you the kiss?" asked Morgan mischievously.

"No, that she didn't, but--I took it."

The *Flora M'Vayne* lay here for a whole week,
fishing and curing each catch.

This was a rare holiday for the islanders, who were
the gayest of the gay all the time.

One morning a sailor of the crew sought an interview
with Captain Talbot on the quarter-deck.

"Well, my man?"

"Well, sir, it's like this.  I've fallen in love here
with the slickest-lookin' bit of a lass I ever clapped
eyes upon 'twix' here, sir, and San Domingo; and if
you please, capting, I wants to stay here and marry
her right away, and live happy hever arterwards."

The captain laughed.

"My good fellow," he said, "I am truly sorry to
disappoint you; but you signed articles for all the
cruise, you know, and I fear I can't let you go.  I'd
be one hand short, you see."

"That you would not, sir, for there is Billy Ibsen,
as good a seaman, I believe, as ever 'auled taut a lee
main brace, and he'll be 'appy to exchange."

"Well then, Smith, if that's the case, and the
substitute is suitable, I mustn't throw any obstacles in
your way."

And so all ended well.  Ibsen proved fit, and Smith
went on shore.  When the *Flora* sailed away he was
the last man visible, standing on an eminence waving
a red bandanna, with the girl of his choice standing
modestly by his side.

Little did this island lassie think when the ship hove
in sight that it was bringing her a lover and a husband.

But although rare at Tristan Da Cunha, the young
ladies of that solitary rock, in the midst of the
Atlantic broad and wild, do sometimes count upon the
possibility of such an event, and may be heard singing:

   |   "He's coming from the north that will marry me,
   |   He's coming from the north, and oh happy I will be,
   |   With a broad-sword by his side and a buckle on his knee,
   |   And I know it, oh, I know it, that he'll marry me".

.. vspace:: 2

But the Tristan Da Cunha people are moral and
good, and although they have no parson on board
they have services on Sunday.  As to marriage--well,
the governor does the splicing, and it is considered
quite as binding as if the ceremony had been
performed by the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Southward now they sailed away in a delightful
breeze, and when the sun was slowly sinking towards
the western sea, the weird wee island of Tristan
appeared but as a hazy cloud far away on the
northern horizon.

So strange a place our young heroes had never
visited before, and for many days it seemed but an
island of dreamland.

But that island, readers, is still there amidst its
waste of waters, and it is within the kaleidoscope of
events, that some of you may yet visit its iron-bound
and surf-beaten shores.

Who knows?




.. _`johnnie shingles and old mr. pen`:

CHAPTER V.--JOHNNIE SHINGLES AND OLD MR. PEN.
=============================================

South, straight south.  South as the bird flies.  And
with a fair and spanking breeze too.  As for birds--once
past the rocky and volcanic island of Diego
Alvarez, few indeed bore them company.  I believe
anybody might have this rocky place who had a mind
to.  They found it to be the home of myriads--clouds,
in fact--of gulls of every sort, including the
well-known Cape pigeon, the puffin, the penguin, and
albatross, to say nothing of the cormorant, and that strange,
strange creature on its wondrous wings, that lives in
the sky most of its time, and even goes to sleep as it
soars high above the clouds--the frigate-bird.

They went near enough to the island to witness one
of the strangest sights in nature--the bird-laden rocks.
There was little chance of landing on the island itself,
owing to the terrible surf that beats for ever and aye
around the cliffs; but Ibsen, who turned out to be a
real handy fellow, had been here before, and pointed
out to the captain some rocks in the lee of which a
boat could land, and--this being spring in these
regions--soon find enough eggs to keep the crew in
food for a month.  His knowledge was taken
advantage of, and a boat under his guidance called away.

In it went Duncan and Frank.

What a scene!  It beats imagination.  Tier after
tier on the rocky cliffs sat those birds watching their
nests and eggs.

They found a little cove in the tiny islet, and at the
head of this the boat was beached on the dark sand.
The ground was everywhere so crowded with nests
that it was with difficulty they could walk amongst
them without doing damage.

How beautiful they were too!  Of every shade of
blue and green, with the strangest of jet-black
markings, were most of them.

But the king penguins did not cohabit with any of
the gull families.  They thought themselves far too
aristocratic for this, and here, as on other lonely isles
of the great southern ocean, they dwelt in a colony all
by themselves, which must have numbered about one
thousand all told.  This colony had footpaths leading
down to the shallowest parts of the shore, whence
these droll birds could easily take to the water.

They are really droll, whether walking, standing,
running, or swimming.  They stand quite erect on
their sturdy legs, so that a line dropped from their beaks
would almost fall between their broad webbed feet.
Wings they have none, a pair of broad flappers doing
duty for these, which seems to aid considerably their
progress in running.  But these flappers are really
paddles or oars in the water, and I know of few
birds that can swim so fast or turn so quickly in the sea.

On the arrival of the boat's crew there was a general
panic among this community.  As regards the male
birds, tall as they were, they did not show a very
great amount of courage.

*Sauve qui peut* was their motto, and let the females
take care of themselves.  Like the pigs in New
Testament times, when the cast-out devils got leave to go
into them, they ran headlong down a steep place into
the sea.  Their motions as they waddled and scurried
along, oftentimes tumbling over a stone or a tussock
heap, were grotesque in the extreme, and everyone
roared with laughter.

With the exception of little Johnnie Shingles.  I'm
sure I cannot tell you how he came to be called Johnnie
Shingles, for pet names grow on board ship just as
they do on shore.  Johnnie was picked up somewhere
abroad, and was looked upon as part and parcel of the
good barque *Flora M'Vayne*.  He was a nigger of
purest, blackest breed, probably four feet four inches
high, and in age something between nine and nineteen.
Nobody knew and nobody cared.  Johnnie Shingles
was just Johnnie Shingles, no more and no less.  Well,
he couldn't have been much less.  He was very funny,
however, and consequently a favourite with everybody
on board, from Mate Morgan to the monkey.  His
duty on board was really to be at the beck and call of
all hands, and to clean and feed the pets, including
Viking, the red-tailed gray parrot, and Jim the ape.

Well, you see, Johnnie was never allowed to land
from the boat like any of the crew, but as soon as he
came within reasonable distance of the shore he was
simply thrown overboard, and left to struggle in
through the surf as best he could.

But Johnnie didn't mind the surf much, and he
didn't mind the sharks.  Nor do I think the sharks
minded Johnnie.  In fact, my knowledge of sharks
generally causes me to come to the conclusion, that
they are somewhat particular in their tastes, and much
prefer a white man to a black.

Well, at this islet, Johnnie Shingles was as usual
pitched ceremoniously into the water, when about
seventy yards from the landing-place.  But as ill-luck
would have it he met the whole shoal of male penguins
putting out to sea.  These birds are extremely bold
and audacious in the water.

"Hillo!" one of the foremost shouted or seemed to
shout, "here goes another o' them.  Let us all pitch
into him!"

And suiting the action to the word they seized poor
Johnnie by the seat of his white ducks and dived with
him under the water.  Johnnie got up, but only to be
seized by another, while half a dozen at least dabbed
and pecked at him, till, had he been a white boy, he
would have been black and blue.

I believe that if, in answer to his shrieks the boat
had not put back, and laid those penguins dead with
their oars right and left, poor Johnnie Shingles would
have lost the number of his mess.  Even after the
angry king penguins had been routed nothing could
for a time be seen of the little nigger boy.  But
presently up popped a penguin, and close behind it up
popped Johnnie.

He came up smiling, as prize-fighters say, but he
had got that penguin by the hind-leg all the same,
and kick as it would Johnnie held fast till he and it
were landed all alive in the boat.

Now, I do not know whether that king penguin had
a wife and a family of eggs or not, but if he had he very
soon forgot them and settled down to ship life as if he
had been to the manner born.  In fact, he became a
general favourite on board owing to his grave and
peculiar gait.

Old Pen, as he was called, became specially attached
to Johnnie Shingles, and stuck to him as Johnnie had
clung to him before they were hauled into the boat.

As to the penguin's eggs: they lay but two, a big
and a bigger.  They are good to eat--scrambled.  But
I am unable to say whether the king bird or cock
comes out of the big shell, and the hen out of the
smaller, or *vice versâ*.

This particular king had very intelligent eyes, with
which he would stare at one fixedly for a minute at a
time with his head on one side.  Indeed, he was always,
to all appearance, seeking for information everywhere,
and there was not much on deck that he did not
examine.

The coiled ropes were a source of great amusement
to him, and after unravelling one end he would seize
it, and walk straight off with it as men do with a
hawser.  When the men were washing down decks,
before the weather got very cold he was never tired
examining their naked toes.  He used to straddle
quietly up and separate them with his beak as a
starling would.

If the men jumped and cried "Oh-h!" Old Pen
held back his head and chuckled quietly to himself.

"I only wanted to know if you were web-footed,"
he appeared to say.

Well, if old Pen was grotesque and amusing when
dressed only in his own feathers, he was infinitely
more droll when the men dressed him up as a funny
old girl with a black bonnet, a short dark skirt, a shawl,
a pair of frilled white trousers, and a gingham umbrella.

Old Pen didn't care.  If everyone else laughed he
only nodded his head and seemed all the prouder.

I don't know whether Johnnie or he was the taller,
only the grinning wee nigger used to give the singular
old lady an arm, and together they used to walk up
and down the deck in the most comical way imaginable.

But this was not all, for Johnnie taught her to waltz.

On board the *Flora* was a man who could play the
clarionet, while another could bring very sweet music
indeed from the guitar.  This really was all the band,
with, of course, Frank's fiddle.  But very far indeed
was it from bad, and dressed in their Sunday's best,
the sailors used to be invited aft, and during that long,
long voyage to the southern fields and floes of ice, many
an evening concert beguiled the time.

But if the sailor musicians went aft, Frank often
went forward, and it was on these occasions that old
Mrs. Pen, as she was often called, was trotted out by
the curly-polled nigger-boy.  It is a misappropriation
of a term to say "trotted out", for certainly there
was very little trot about the quaint old dame.  But
waltzing just suited her flat feet.  Yes, and there is
no doubt that she liked it too.  She might be down
below half-asleep before the galley fire, when the
fiddle and guitar began getting into tune with the
clarionet; but she now pricked up her ears at once
and presently prepared to negotiate the broad
companion steps or stairs that led to the upper deck.
This was always a very serious matter for the great
king penguin.  Sometimes he tried to stride from one
step to another, a foot at a time.  But this plan was
invariably a failure, so he found it more convenient on
the whole to hop, and his lower limbs were wondrously
strong.

Arrived on deck, Johnnie Shingles was there to
meet him, and dress him as Susie.  Then the *he* became
a *she*.

But the men would be at it by this time, dancing
the daftest and wildest of hornpipes.  No chance of
their catching cold when so engaged, nor after, for as
soon as they had finished a spell that

   |   "Put life and mettle in their heels",

they threw on their heavy jumpers and walked around
defiant, enjoying the daft capers of their shipmates.

Then Susie and Shingles would appear on the scene
arm in arm, the boy with his round face, his laughing
eyes, and his two rows of alabaster teeth, looking a
picture of radiant fun and good humour.

"Now, Massa Frank," he might cry, "gib me and
my ole mudder a nice d'eamy valtz."

"A dreamy waltz, eh?  Well, you must have it."

"I must foh shuah, sah.  My mudder hab got a soft
co'n, and rheumatiz, and all sorts ob tings."

There was no laughing about Susie.  She took
everything in grim earnest, but, with her chin resting
on black Johnnie's shoulder, she evidently enjoyed
both the movement and the melody, sometimes even
closing her eyes.

Her partner, like herself, was barefooted even in the
coldest of weather; but when once he tramped on
Susie's toes, the old lady rewarded him with a dig on
the cheek that made Johnnie howl, and taught him
caution for all time to come.

Well, what with laughing and dancing, an evening
thus spent sped away very quickly, and was worth a
whole bushel of doctor's stuff.  There was no surgeon
on board, I may mention parenthetically.  The law
does not require such an officer to be carried when the
crew, all told, is under forty men.

It is really somewhat marvellous that a bird like
this big king penguin, should have taken so soon and
so kindly to the company and customs of human
beings; but then the poor bird was exceedingly
well-treated, and whenever fish was served out, Pen was
always in the front rank.  Ah, well, it is only one
more proof of the truth that *amor vincit omnia*--love
conquers all things.

Pen was not always dressed as Mother Gamp.  No,
for he had a really good outfit, to which the
neater-fisted seamen were always adding.  So sometimes he
would appear on the quarter-deck as a man-o'-war
sailor, at others as a smart and elegantly-attired
artilleryman, with his cap stuck provokingly on one
side, and a little cane under his left arm.

He was at times dressed as Paul Pry.  And on these
occasions, as he stretched his head and neck curiously
out in front of him, he really seemed to say:
"I hope I don't intrude".

Pen was a grand actor.  Mr. Toole himself would
have been nowhere in it with Pen.

Viking at first must have thought the bird
something "no canny".  He would start up with a wild
"wowff" if Pen came anywhere near him, and quietly
retire.

The monkey or ape, on the other hand, tried to get
up a friendship with Pen.  He would approach him
with a peace-offering, crying "Ha! hah! hah!" which,
being interpreted, signifieth, "Take that, old Pen, and
eat it.  It will taste in your mouth like butter and
honey."  As the peace-offering invariably consisted of
a gigantic cockroach about three inches long, I think
it may be doubted whether it tasted as well as the
monkey would have had Pen believe.  However, the
presentation was kindly meant.

This huge monkey's mouth was always crammed
with cockroaches.  One side at all events, and that
one side stuck out as if he were suffering from a huge
gum-boil.

The men were somewhat sorry, I think, that they
could not teach old Pen to chew 'baccy, but old Pen
drew the line at this.  I must, out of respect for the
truth, state, however, that the bird could not be called
a total abstainer, for he dearly loved a piece of
"plum-duff" steeped in rum, and on this questionable delicacy
I think he used at times to get about half seas over.
Then he would commence wagging his head and neck
very much from side to side, and indulge in a little
song to himself.

Old Pen was not much of a singer, however, and
never could have composed an opera.  In fact his song
was partly grunt, partly squeak, and partly squawk.
But it pleased Pen, and that was enough.

After singing for a short time he would pinch a
favourite seaman's leg.  "Kack!" he would say, opening
his mouth.  This meant "Chuck us another sop, matie".

After receiving it he would be off, and take his usual
stand near the galley fire, and begin to wink and wink,
and nod and nod, till finally the lower eyelids would
ascend over the beautiful irises, and Pen be wafted
away into dreamland.  He wasn't aboard ship any
longer.  He was back once more on his own little
rocky sea-girt isle, with the gulls and the cormorants
screaming high in the air around.  Near him stood
Mrs. Pen, his wife, and near her, and in front, his two
youngsters--fluffy, downy, droll brats, gaping their red
mouths to be fed.

On the whole, I think Pen was a curious bird, and
eminently suited for a sailor's pet.




.. _`"back water all!  for life, boys, for life!"`:

CHAPTER VI.--"BACK WATER ALL!  FOR LIFE, BOYS, FOR LIFE!"
=========================================================

It was summer--strange, weird, and silent summer
in the Antarctic Ocean.

November was wearing to a close.  The days were
long and sunny; so long, indeed, that the sun did not
trouble himself to go down at all.  At midnight he
just made a feint of doing so, and lowered himself
towards the horizon, but thought better of it, and
was speedily mounting higher and higher again every
minute.

A great, cold-looking sun it was, however, a bright
and almost rayless disc of whitest light, that you
could look at and even count the spots thereon.

The good barque *Flora M'Vayne* was still ploughing
her way through the dark waters of that southern
ocean, and the great glacial barrier was still far away.
They could have told this even by the paucity of bird
life around them.  A long-winged frigate-bird went
swiftly across the hawse now and then, and soared
away and away towards the few fleecy clouds that
hovered high in air like puffs of gunpowder smoke.

That mighty eagle of the sea--the albatross--was
also a constant visitor.  What a wondrous flight is
his!  At one moment beating up to windward, tack
and half-tack, yet with a speed almost as great as that
of a swallow, till one can scarcely see him, so far and
far away is he; then, wheeling next moment, down he
flashes on the breeze, but more quickly than any
ordinary breeze e'er blew.  Not straight before the
wind, however, but with a kind of sidelong rush
which brings into full view the vast outspread of his
wondrous wings.

They were still in the "roaring forties", as that
part of the ocean 'twixt the latitude of the Cape and
the fifties is called.  But what a wide expanse of
ocean is all around them!  I have stood spell-bound
on the fore or main-top, not admiring so much as
adoring this mighty work of a mightier Creator: a
turmoil of water, water, water in every direction one
can look.  And it is not so much the height of the
waves one wonders at--though that is indeed
vast--but their tremendous breadth, the sweep, as it were,
between one curling comber and another.  High and
of fearful force are the seas in, for example, the Bay
of Biscay during a gale, but they are mere channel
chops to these.  And wide though the expanse of
these latter, they race each other round the world
with an earnestness, and even fury, that causes one to
stand aghast.

I wish I had space to describe some of the sunsets
our heroes beheld shortly after leaving the last land.
No wonder that Duncan more than once grasped
Frank by the arm, and pointed northward and west
at eventide.

"Look!  Oh, look!"

It was all he could say.  Yet the salt tears almost
blinded him as he spoke.

"Oh, to be an artist!" exclaimed Frank once.

"An artist!" cried Duncan, almost scornfully.
"What artist would dare to paint the golden gray
and crimson splendour that unites both sea and sky
into one living gorgeous whole?  Oh, Frank, even
Turner himself, were he here, would throw down his
brush, and confess that he was a mere caricaturist."

But in a few weeks' time the sunsets were nil, and
all, all was day.

Nor did it blow so high now.

Sometimes, indeed, the sea was as calm as a mill-pond,
except where rippled in patches by huge shoals
of the fry of certain kinds of fish that inhabit these
seas.

And these were invariably followed by denizens of
the deep that preyed upon them--dancing, leaping,
cooing dolphins, for example.

Some of these latter were harpooned, and their dark
red flesh made an excellent change of diet from the
somewhat salt provisions, eggs, or penguin flesh.

Once or twice, while the weather was calm and the
surface of the sea smooth and glassy, they came upon
patches of yellow--banks they were, in fact, over
which they were drifting.

Men were now kept constantly in the chains, and
sometimes the danger was so great that the anchors
were let go to wait for even the lightest breeze.

This might have delayed the voyage somewhat, but
nevertheless it was not time wholly misspent, for
where the bottom is near to the surface fish are
always found in abundance.  So boats would be lowered,
and real good hand-line sport enjoyed.

In this old Pen participated.  But the first day he
started fishing he swam so fast and so far away, that
those in the boat imagined they would never see him
more.

Then little Johnnie began to weep.

"Oh, poll deah Pen!  Oh, my ole mudder Sue," he
cried.  "He done gone away foh ebbermoh."

But Johnnie's "weeps" were quite a useless
expenditure of lachrymal fluid.  This was evident enough
when Pen came racing back again with a great silvery
fish held proudly aloft.  He delivered this, and went
back for another.  And this again and again, till a
breath of wind springing up, it was deemed advisable
to return to the *Flora*, who was "titting" at her
anchor as if eager to be on the wing again.

That Pen loved the darkie was evident enough, for
one day, when bent on to his line and hauling away
with all his might, a huge bonito pulled the little lad
right overboard, the strange bird went grunting and
squawking round him in terrible distress.

Johnnie's position just then was not an enviable
one, for although he could swim like a herring, there
was many a monster shark hovering near that would
have been pleased indeed to make a meal of the boy.

These sharks were sometimes caught, and although
their flesh had no great flavour, parts of it served
sometimes to eke out breakfast or supper.

There are dangers innumerable in those Antarctic
seas, and one of the most terrible is that of striking
on a sand-bank or running foul of a sunken rock.
These not being on the chart, the navigator has to
sail along literally with his life in his hand, trusting
all to blind chance.  A bank does give some evidence
before the ship gets on if there is an outlook in the
foretop, and the cry of, "Below there! shoal water
ahead!" is all too common.  Next comes the shout of,
"Ready about!  Stand by tacks and sheets!"

But the rock hides its awful head and gives no
sign.  The ship strikes, then backward reels, and
mayhap sinks before there is time to provision, water,
arm, man, and lower the boats.

Ice at last.

But the Antarctic sea was wonderfully open this
season, and the ice loose.

It lay in streams of small pieces at first, athwart
the world, as Jack termed it; athwart the ship's
course, at all events, so these they had to sail through.
The good *Flora* was strong enough to negotiate them,
but the battering and thumping along the vessel's
sides, as heard below, was tremendous.

These ice streams became more and more numerous,
and the pieces, or "berglets", got bigger and bigger,
and, of course, more fraught with danger to the ship's
vitality.

It grew appreciably colder too, but so slowly had
they come into these regions of perpetual snow, that
the change in temperature had no detrimental effect
upon the health of either the officers or men.

It certainly had none on old Pen.  In fact, the
colder it got the more he seemed to like it.  And now
when waltzing with Johnnie, he used to sing in his
own droll and dismal way.

Viking also believed in the cold, and the races and
gambols he had up and down the deck, when he could
induce anyone to throw a belaying-pin for him were
wild in the extreme.

Moreover, he had a football, which Duncan had
presented him with, and he got no end of fun out of
this.  He threw it in front of him, he hurled it along
in front of him, and swung it about, and one day,
when he fairly tossed it overboard, he made no bother
about the matter, but rushing astern, jumped right
overboard after it, quite regardless of the fact that
the ship was going on at the rate of eight knots an hour.

As quickly as possible she was hove to and a whaler
lowered.

Vike was found quite a quarter of a mile astern--but
he had stuck to his ball.

He dearly loved it, and, strangely enough, he put it
to bed every night as children do their dolls, covering
it carefully up with a corner of the rug on which he
slept.

----

Icebergs at last.  A good thing it was for the *Flora*,
that there was but little wind, for to strike against
one of these huge bergs--bigger many of them were
than St. Paul's Cathedral--would have meant certain
destruction.

Yet although the wind was often but light, a
current seemed to run rapidly enough, and the huge
unbroken waves towered high above them, and more
than once they narrowly escaped disaster from a huge
berg being hurled down upon the vessel as if by
Titanic force, as she wallowed in the trough of the sea.

Even sailing past to leeward of such ice as this took
the wind for a time clean out of the sails.

Strangely enough, they reached the Antarctic Circle
on Christmas day.

This was a sort of double event.  Either would
have been celebrated, but now both events must be
rolled into one.

One would hardly imagine that King Christmas
would venture into these lonely regions, but the old
fellow is good-hearted, and where'er on earth a Briton
goes there goes Christmas also.

Well, with the exception of Johnnie Shingles and
the monkey--who, by the way, had been furnished
with a brand-new scarlet flannel jacket to keep him
cosy--there was not a soul on board who had not
before leaving home been presented with a bunch of
gay ribbons, by sweetheart or wife, to help to deck a
great garland that was made, and hoisted high aloft
and abaft on this auspicious morning.

Of course there were no turkeys!

Alas! there were no geese.

As for cooking an albatross--well, that has been
tried before, and a more unsatisfactory dish I have
never tasted.  Fishy, oily, and as for downright
toughness the wife of Beith with her iron teeth could make
but a poor show in front of it.

But some splendid corn-beef took the place of more
civilized dishes both fore and aft.

Then there was the pudding.  Ah! that indeed!

And a splendid success this, or these, were.  The
cook went in that day for beating all previous records.
And it was universally admitted that he did.

The *Flora M'Vayne* was an almost temperate ship,
that is, the men had to content themselves with one
glass of rum each *per diem*, man-o'-war fashion.  But
on this bright Christmas day there was but little limit
or stint.  Only, to everyone's credit be it said, there
was no excess.

The evening, up till two bells (9 o'clock), was spent
in games, in yarning, in dancing, and fun.

Both Vike and old Pen had dined right heartily,
and were in rare form.

One of the chief dances to-night was the Scots
strathspey and reel, and Duncan had got his bagpipes
in order for the occasion, and as he played the fun
grew fast and furious.

So excited did both Vike and Pen become at last
that they must too chime in, the dog with a high
falsetto howl, the bird with double grunt and squawk,
so that Duncan's melody was somewhat interfered with.

This, however, did not discourage the Scotch portion
of the crew.  They only cracked their thumbs, danced
the nimbler, and hooched the wilder, till with the
frantic merriment the very sails did shiver.

It was indeed a joyous night.  Vike and Pen,
although they had a truly excellent feed, did not give
way to excess, but the monkey being only one remove
from a human being, ate so much pudding and so
many nuts and cockroaches, that he suffered next
morning from a violent headache.  He was seen
squatting on the capstan, clasping his brow with his
left hand, and looking the very picture of Simian
misery.

Frank took pity on him.

"I know what will cure you," he said.  "I know
what a Christmas headache is; I've been there myself."

So he bound up the poor beastie's head with a
handkerchief wrung out of ice-cold water, and the
monkey felt really better, and was grateful in consequence.

For some natural reason or another, they now came
into a sea of open water, and much to the delight and
excitement of all hands, sighted a school of Right
whales.

The main-yard was instantly hauled aback, and all
preparations speedily made to attack one at least of
this great shoal.

I do not suppose that these leviathans of southern
polar seas had ever had their gambols so rudely broken
in upon before.

Three boats were sent against them, each with one
experienced harpooner.  The captain commanded one,
Morgan another, and the third whaler was given in
charge of brave young Duncan.  To tell the truth, he
had really no experience of such "fishing", but the
spectioneer that sat beside him had.

Surely it was a pity to disturb the enjoyment of
those great ungainly monsters on so glorious a day.
Thus thought Conal at all events, for without doubt
the whales had assembled for a real frolic.

It was a sort of whales' ball.

Sometimes nothing was seen but the white spray
or foam they raised, at other times their enormous
bodies were seen shining silvery in the summer sun,
for in their glee they actively leapt over each other's
backs.

But the noise they made is indescribable, as they
lashed the water with flippers and tails.

In the captain's boat only was the harpoon gun,
and he alone would fire it.  When a much younger
man he had been whaling in the far-off Arctic, and
knew a Right whale from a finner or sperm.

Yet his was not the newest-fashioned mode of
whaling.  He used no explosive shells or bullets,
which he looked upon as cruel in the extreme.  I
should be sorry indeed to argue the point either pro
or con, for there is cruelty on both sides, but probably
less with the shell, which may cause almost
instantaneous death.

Was Captain Talbot going to attack that school of
whales during their extraordinary gambols?  He
knew better.  Were a whales' ball to take place in
the midst of even a fleet of men-o'-war I should be
sorry for some of the ships.

But see yonder, ploughing slowly along towards the
herd, comes a huge and solitary leviathan.

Talbot hastily signals to the mate and to Duncan.
The latter takes the steering oar, and, bidding him be
cautious, the spectioneer, his great whale lance in his
hand, goes cautiously forward to the bows, and the
boat is kept on a line parallel to the great beast's course.

Nearer and nearer creeps the captain's boat.  The
excitement is intense.  Will the whale dive before he
gets close enough, the men are wondering?

Nearer and still more near.

Everyone holds his breath.

"Lie on your oars, men!  Still and quiet!"

The boat drifts a little way further, but the gun is
trained.

Bang!

The echoes reverberate from every berg, or far or
near.  The line all neatly coiled in the bows is
whirling out, till the gunwale begins to fire.  But it as
speedily stops.

Grand shot!  The monster is struck, and for a few
seconds seems stunned, and lies still on the top of the
water.

The school has dived and disappeared, to come up
somewhere again miles and miles away.

And now the wounded whale recovers from the
shot, and headlong dives, the line rushing out once
again as before.  Under way once again is the boat,
but the leviathan now reappears as suddenly as he
had sunk.  Some instinct--whether of scent or hearing
I cannot tell--causes him to take the same course
as his fellows.

Mercy on us, how he rips and tears through the
black-green water!  But ever and anon he dives, and
it is evident his exertions weary him a little.

And now the line is all run out, and the boat is
taken in charge.  The gunwale is cooled with hastily-drawn
buckets of water, and forward she dashes, so
quickly too that a wall of water stands up on each
side of the bows.

The poor monster is in torment.  The chief danger
to the boat itself would lie in the beast swerving
aside and diving under a berg, which would dash the
brave whaler to pieces, and kill or drown every man
on board.  But he holds his course till, weary at last,
he dives once more, and there remains for fully twenty
minutes.

When he again appears the water around is red
with his blood, but he moves along very slowly now,
and the other boats with their lancemen get abreast
and bear up to head him.

Duncan's is the first to get near enough, and now
comes the tug of war.  The whale is sick and weak.

The harpooner holds up a warning hand.

"Be all ready to back astern, boys!"

"Way enough!"

The lance is driven in full many and many a foot,
and with one decisive twist a great and vital artery
is severed.

"Back water all!  For life, boys, for life!"

For life?  Yes, but the men are as cool as if rowing
in a regatta on the Thames.

"All speed astern!"

None too soon.

The blood spouts high as if from a fire-hose, but in
awful jets, with every throb of the giant's heart.
There is life in him yet, and while the red-drenched
seamen pull well out of the way, he lashes the ocean's
surface with his tremendous tail, one blow from which
would stave in a torpedo-boat.

The sound would be heard miles and miles away,
were there anyone to listen to it in these lonesome
seas, and--so dies the leviathan.

The ship gets alongside and bends on her hooks in
good time, and while the body is still hot and steaming,
blubber and skin are hoisted up and up towards
the yard-arms, till with its weight the vessel lists and
lists, and it seems as if she would be on her beam-ends.

Long before the crew is done taking on board all
that is valuable, the sharks have assembled, and are
fighting and splashing as they gorge on their awful
feast.

And when the decks are all clean once more, and
the sails again filled, supper is had fore and aft, and
then, but not till then, does Skipper Talbot order the
steward to splice the main-brace.




.. _`"here's to the loved ones at home"`:

CHAPTER VII.--"HERE'S TO THE LOVED ONES AT HOME."
=================================================

Captain Talbot was a brave man, but the ice
for the present looked far too dangerous to
venture in through.  So he kept "dodging" along the
great barrier-edge or cruising eastwards, and away
towards what is known as Enderby Land.

Sometimes he encountered a storm, brief but terrible,
and dangerous in the extreme.  They saw around them
great bergs coming into collision, their green, towering,
wall-like sides dashed together by the force of wind
and waves; heard the thunder of the encounter, and
witnessed the mist and foam as they fell to pieces in
a chaos of boiling surf.

At times dense fog would envelop the whole sea,
and then sail had to be taken in, for the icebergs went
floating past and past like mysterious ghosts.

But clearer weather prevailed at last, and two more
monster whales were captured.

Three great leviathans!  Nearly a voyage in itself.
No wonder that the spirits of the men rose higher and
higher, as they thought of those who would press
them to their hearts on their return home from this
adventuresome cruise.  And--happiest thought of all!--they
would have plenty of money to spend on fathers
or mothers, wives or children.  For my experience is
that so long as they are unallured by the drink demon,
British sailors are not really improvident.

But the good luck of the *Flora* did not continue.
Talbot had expected to find sea-elephants in great
evidence in these regions.

They are so called, it will do you no harm to know,
reader, first on account of their immense size and
unwieldiness, many of the males attaining a length of
twenty feet or over, and from the fact that they have
a kind of proboscis which, when alarmed or angry,
they inflate till it looks almost like the trunk of an
elephant.  They are dangerous then, and, though as a
rule peaceable, can give a good account of anyone
daring enough to attempt an attack upon them, armed
with the spiked seal-club alone.

They usually, however, go further north during the
spring or pupping season, but now having returned,
they ought to have been about somewhere.  But they
had evidently chosen fresh ground, and Captain
Talbot was unable to find a trace of them.

He was not easily cast down, however, and taking
advantage of a splendid westerly and north-westerly
wind, he daringly set every inch of canvas--remember
it was the long Antarctic day--and flew eastwards on
its wings.

But his object was not only to get a paying voyage,
but to do some good also to science and to geographical
knowledge as well.

It was the duty of Duncan himself, and of Frank as
well, not only to keep a log, but to enter therein, along
with the ship's sailings, adventures, &c., the temperature
of air and water twice a day.

The vessel again appeared to imagine herself a
clipper-built yacht and to fly along, and by good luck
she not only had a fair wind, but a clear sea, having
only now and then to steer away from floating icebergs.

But now and then a boat was lowered to pick up
some unusual form of seal, that might be observed
floating along on a morsel of snow-clad ice.  So tame
were these that they only gazed open-mouthed at the
advancing boat, and thus fell an easy prey to the
gunner.

Very few more Right whales were seen, and none
captured.

For a time the course held was about east with a
bit of northerly in it, then on reaching the sixties
they bowled along in fine style, and in the first week
in February they were daringly--far too daringly as
it turned out--steering almost directly south through
a comparatively open sea towards the great southern
ice-barrier in the seventies, which lies east of a mighty
volcanic hill well-named Erebus.

It was autumn now--early autumn in these regions,
but still a delightful time.

Do not imagine that this distant ocean was
uninhabited.  Far from it.  There were still millions on
millions of birds about, that later on would fly far
away to nor'land lands and islands.  Petrels of many
sorts, especially the snow-white species, Cape pigeons,
the smaller penguins on point ends of land, and gulls
of such beauty and rarity that it would have puzzled
cleverer men than our heroes to classify them.

Many of these were carefully shot and made skins
of, to be set up when they reached once more their
dear native land, if God in his mercy should spare them.

----

Mount Sabine itself is passed, and soon after, to
the east of that mountain, they lie for a day or two
at Coulman Island.  Strangely enough, though floating
icebergs are heaving about all around, this rocky
and storm-tossed isle is bare, and they can land.

The captain, with Frank and Conal, go off on a
lichen hunt inland.  They take their rifles with them,
but no wild creature is here that can hurt them.

They find beautiful mosses, however, and strangely
beautiful lichens.  Indeed, some parts of the rising
ground are crimson or orange with these latter, and
the green of the mosses stand out in lovely and
striking contrast.

They continued their journey far inland, and
although the rocks and the sea all about the shore
was alive with birds, here it was solemn and still
enough.  The scene was indeed impressive and beautiful,
and with the blue of the sky above and the bright
blue of the ocean beyond, dotted over with green and
lofty snow-capped ice-blocks, the whole seemed a little
world fresh from the hands of the great Creator of all.

Captain Talbot took specimens not only of the
flora--if so I may call the scanty vegetation of this
island--but of its rocks as well, and the height of its
chief hills, with many soundings around it, to say
nothing of collecting marine algæ.

All the way southwards, as far as the great
ice-barrier to the eastward of the land wherein was
Mount Terror, he was at the pains of surveying and
charting out for the benefit of future generations, for
as laid down in the charts that he possessed the coast
was very indolently described indeed.

----

He was a very ambitious mariner, this skipper of
the *Flora M'Vayne*, and at the same time a bold,
daring, true-blue sailor.

Now would be the time, therefore, to make his
great aërial journey still farther to the southward.
But could such a thing be successfully accomplished?
That was the question that he and he alone had to
answer for himself.  There was no one to consult.

And he took a whole long day to consider it,
keeping himself very much alone in his state-room
that he might come quietly to a correct conclusion.

Thus far to the south had he come with the
intention of penetrating still farther by balloon.  But
he had calculated on getting here much sooner.

He had no intention of doing anything foolishly
rash.  Had he reached 75° south latitude when the
summer was still in its prime he might have reckoned
on perpetual sunshine and constant shifting of wind,
but now the breeze blew mostly from the south, and
although by rising into the higher regions he might
get a fair wind if he descended one hundred miles
nearer to the Antarctic Pole, was there any certainty
that he should ever return?  Indeed, it was the
reverse.  It seemed as though there was not the
ghost of a chance of his ever seeing his ship again.

Life is sweet, and so at long last he gave up all
thoughts of his aërial voyage for the present season.

He communicated this resolve to his mates and
youngsters that day at dinner.

But the sun had already begun to set to the
south'ard, though so brief was the night that scarce
a star was even visible.

"We shall now," he told them, "bear up for the
north and the west once more, and if we reach the
lone isles of Kerguelen in time, we may yet fall among
old sea-elephants enough to pay us handsomely.  For
though I have never been there, I am told that they
make that lone region a habitat throughout the
greater part of the year."

"And then we shall be homeward-bound, sha'n't we,
sir?" said Frank.

"Yes," was the reply.  "But I say, young fellow,
you are not tired of a sailor's life, are you?"

"Oh no!  I would like to see all--all the world
first, and then return and dream of my wild adventures,
and fight my battles with the stormy main o'er
and o'er and o'er again."

"Bravo! lad, though you are just a little effusive.
Well, you are pretty strong in wind and limb, Frank,
aren't you?"

"Fairly, sir.  I haven't got real Highland legs like
Duncan there, but they've always served me well on
a pinch."

"Well, as soon as we get into the neighbourhood of
Mount Terror again I mean to make an ascent, and I
shall want the assistance of all you young fellows, and
a hand or two besides.  There are scientific
instruments to take along, besides plenty of food, drink,
and sleeping-bags, for I guess it will take us the
greater part of three days to accomplish the journey
to the top and back.

"What is the height, sir?"

"It is said to be nearly eleven thousand feet high,
and it is volcanic."

"Don't you think," said Morgan the mate, "that
the adventure is almost foolhardy?"

"It is risky enough, I daresay; but really, Morgan,
my dear fellow, I hate the idea of going back home
without having accomplished something out of the
common."

And so, after some further conversation of an
after-dinner style, the ascent was determined on.

This was Saturday night, and as usual wives and
sweethearts were toasted, for Captain Talbot was a
man who dearly loved to keep up old customs.

So after a hearty supper of sea-pie the men got up
a dance, Frank and the man who played the clarionet
forming, as usual, the chief portion of the band.

Old Pen was in grand form to-night, and his
antics, as he danced and whirled around with little
Johnnie Shingles, were laughable in the extreme.  It
would be impossible to say that Pen tripped it--

   |   "On the light fantastic toe".

For his feet were about as broad and flat as a couple
of kippered herrings, but he made the best use of
them he could, and no one could have done more.

After the dance the chief yarn-spinners assembled
in a wide circle around the galley fire.  Frank and
Conal made two of the party, with noble Vike in the rear.

It hardly would have needed the rum that the
cabin steward dealt out to make these good fellows
happy to-night or to cause them to spin short yarns
and sing, so jolly were they to know the ship was
homeward bound--

   |   "Across the foaming billows, boys,
   |     Across the roaring sea,
   |   "We'll all forget our hardships, lads,
   |     With England on the lee".

But the crew of the brave *Flora M'Vayne* took their
cue from the skipper, and never a Saturday night
passed without many a song and many a toast, and
always an original yarn of some adventure afloat or
ashore.  Sings Dibdin:--

   |   "The moon on the ocean was dimmed by a ripple,
   |     Affording a chequered delight;
   |   The gay jolly tars passed the word for the tipple
   |     And the *toast*--for 'twas Saturday night,
   |   Some sweetheart or wife that he lov'd as his life,
   |     Each drank, while he wished he could hail her,
   |   But the standing toast that pleased the most was--
   |   Here's the wind that blows and the ship that goes,
   |     And the lass that loves a sailor!"

So thoroughly old-fashioned was Captain Talbot that
on some Saturday nights he did not think it a bit
beneath him to join his men around the fire, and they
loved him all the better for it too.

Well, no matter how crowded the men might be of
a night like this, there was always room left in the
inner circle for Viking, old Pen, and Jim the monkey.

Jim, with his red jacket on, used to sit by Viking,
looking very serious and very old, and combing the
dog's coat with his long slender black fingers.

This was a kind of shampoo that invariably sent
Vike off to sleep.

Then Jim would lie down alongside him, draw one
great paw over his body, and go off to sleep also.

But old Pen would be very solemn indeed.  He was
troubled with cold feet, and it was really laughable
enough to see him standing there on one leg while he
held up and exposed his other great webbed pedal
apparatus to the welcome glow emitted by the fire.

Sometimes yarns were at a discount, though songs
never were, and no matter how simple, they were
always welcome, even if told without any straining
for effect and in ordinary conversational English, if
they had truth in them.

On this particular Saturday night Captain Talbot
came forward and took a seat in a corner to smoke his
long pipe, while the steward brewed him a tumbler of
punch with some cinnamon and butter in it, for the
skipper had a cold.

"It's long since we've had a yarn from you, sir,"
remarked the carpenter.

The skipper took a drink, and then let his eyes
follow the curling smoke from his pipe for a few
seconds before replying.

"Well, Peters," he said, "I've had so many adventures
in my time that I hardly ever know which to
tell first.  Once upon a time I served in a Royal Navy
ship on the coast of Africa, and it is just the odour of
the 'baccy, boys, that brings this little yarn to my mind."

"Out with it, sir," cried one.

"Yes, out with it, Captain.  We'll listen as if it were
a sermon, and we were old wives."

"First and foremost," said Talbot, "let me give you
a toast--Here's to the loved ones at home!"

"The loved ones at home!"  And every glass was
raised, and really that toast was like a prayer.




.. _`captain talbot spins a yarn`:

CHAPTER VIII.--CAPTAIN TALBOT SPINS A YARN.
===========================================

"Why, boys, and you youngsters," said Captain
Talbot, "when I look back to those dear old
times I feel old myself, and that's a fact.  As I said
before, we were cruising about the East African coast,
making it just as hot for the slaver Arabs as we knew
how to.  We had a bit of a fight now and then, too,
both on shore and afloat.

"Well, your man-o'-war's-man likes that, simple and
all though he seems to be.  Simplicity, indeed, is one
of the chief traits in the character of the true British
sailor.  I'm not sure that it might not be said with
some degree of truth, that no one who wasn't a little
simple to begin with, would ever become a sailor at
all.  Nobody, not even a landsman, grumbles and
growls more at existence afloat than does Jack
himself, whether he be Jack in epaulets or Jack in a
jumper, Jack walking the weather-side of the
quarter-deck or Jack mending a main-sail.  But for all that,
when Jack has a spell on shore, especially if it be of a
few months' duration, he forgets all the asperities of
the old sea life, and remembers only its jollities and
pleasantnesses, and the queer adventures he had--of
which, probably, he boasts in a mitigated kind of way--and
by and by he gets tired of the dull shore, and
maybe sings with Proctor:

   |   'I never was on the dull, tame shore,
   |   But I loved the great sea more and more'.

And then he goes back again.  Another proof of Jack's
simplicity.

"Well, but some of the very bravest men or officers
I have met with were, or are, as simple in their natures
as little children--simple but brave.

"Gallant and good--how well the two adjectives
sound together when applied to a sailor.  Did not our
Nelson himself apply them in one of his despatches to
Captain Riou, mentioned by Thomas Campbell in his
grand old song 'The Battle of the Baltic':

   |       'Brave hearts! to Britain's pride
   |         Once so faithful and so true,
   |       On the deck of fame that died
   |         With the gallant, good Riou,
   |   Soft sigh the winds of heaven o'er their grave!
   |       While the billow mournful rolls,
   |       And the mermaid's song condoles--
   |       Singing glory to the souls
   |             Of the brave!'

.. vspace:: 2

"There never was a more simple-looking sailor than
Assistant-Paymaster Mair (let us call him Mair).  He
was round-faced, fat, and somewhat pale, but always
merry, and on good terms with himself and everybody
else.  He had the least bit in the world of a squint in
his starboard eye.  This ocular aberration was more
apparent, when he sat down and commenced playing
an asthmatical old flute he possessed.  I don't think
anybody liked this flute except Mair himself, and no
wonder it was asthmatical, for we were constantly
playing tricks on it.  We have tarred it and feathered
it ere now, and once we filled it with boiling lard, and
left it on Mair's desk to cool.  But Mair didn't care;
our practical joking found him in employment, so he
was happy.

"Mair had never been in an engagement, though
some members of our mess had; and, when talking of
their sensations when under fire, Mair used frankly to
confess himself 'the funkiest fellow out'.

"It came to pass that the old *T----* had to engage
a fort, and preparations were made for a hot morning.
The captain was full of spirit and go--one of those
sort of men who, when both legs are shot away, fight
on their stumps.

"Mair had his orders the night before, given verbally,
in an easy, off-hand kind of way.  He was to stand by
the captain on the bridge or quarter-deck, and take
notes during the engagement or battle.  Poor Mair! he
didn't sleep much, and didn't eat much breakfast.
We met just outside the ward-room door, Mair and I.
We were both going to duty, only Mair was going up,
while I was bound for the orlop deck.  With the noise
of hammering, and stamping, and shouting, I couldn't
catch what Mair said, but it was something
like--'Lucky dog, you'.

"Though stationed below--safe, except from the
danger of smothering in horrid smoke--I soon had
evidence enough we were getting badly hammered.  I
wasn't sorry when "Cease firing" sounded, and I could
crawl up and breathe.

"But how about simple Mair?  Why, this only--he
had done his duty nobly, coolly, manfully; he had
gained admiration from his fire-eating captain, and got
specially mentioned in a despatch.  Mair looked red
and excited all the afternoon, but the flute never
sounded half so cheerily before as it did that same
evening after dinner.

"Talking about simplicity brings poor Nat Wildman
of ours before my mind's eye.

"There wasn't a pluckier sailor in the service than
Nat, nor a greater favourite with his mess-mates, nor
a simpler-souled or kindlier-hearted.  He was very
tall and powerful--quite an athlete in fact.  Once
when a company or two of marines and blue-jackets
were sent to enact punishment of some native tribes
on the West African coast, for the murder of a white
merchant, and for having fired on Her Majesty's boats,
they encountered a strongly-palisaded village.  Our
fellows had no ladders nor axes, and the dark-skins
were firing through.  The village must be carried, and
reduced to terms--and ashes; so the men hoisted each
other over.  Nat worked hard at this pitch-and-toss
warfare; indeed, he could have thrown the whole
ship's company over.  But, lo! he found himself the
last man--left out in the cold--for there was no one
to help him across.  When the row was over, Nat
was found--simple fellow that he was--sitting on the
ground crying with vexation, or, as one of his
mess-mates phrased it, 'blubbering like a big baby'.

"I often think, boys, that it must be very hard to
have to die at sea, especially if homeward bound;
all the bustle and stir of ship's work going on around
you; the songs of the men, the joking and laughing,
and the din--for silence can seldom be long maintained.

"Jack Wright of ours--captain of the main-top--might
have been called a tar of the real Tom Bowling
type.  He, too, like Nat Wildman, whom I mentioned
above, was a very great favourite with his mess-mates.
He was always kind and merry, but ever good,
obedient, and brave.  We were coming home in the
old *T----*.  Dirty weather began shortly after we left
Madeira, and while assisting in taking in sail one
forenoon, poor Jack fell from aloft.  His injuries were
of so serious a nature that his life was despaired of
from the first.  He lost much blood, and never rallied.

"This sailor had a young wife, who was to have
met him at Plymouth.  She was in his thoughts in
his last hours.  I was assisting the doctor just at that
time of my life, a kind of loblolly-boy, and I heard
the man say, as he looked wistfully in the surgeon's
face: 'It seems a kind o' hard, doctor, but I've always
done my duty--I've always obeyed orders without
asking questions.  I'm ready when the Great Captain
calls, though--yes, it do seem a kind o' hard.'

"He appeared to doze off, and I sat still for an
hour.  It was well on in the middle watch, and the
ship was under easy sail; there was now and then a
word of command, but no trampling overhead, for
even the officers liked and respected Jack.  I sat
still for an hour, then took his wrist in my hand.
There was no pulse there.  He was gone.

"I covered him up and went on deck, for something
was rising and choking me.  It was a heavenly
night--bright stars shining, and a round silvery moon,
with the waves all sparkling to leeward of us.

"'It does seem hard,' I couldn't help muttering.

"As the beautiful burial service was being read
over poor Jack Wright, and his body dropped into the
sea, many a tear fell that those who shed them needn't
have taken much pains to hide.

"At Plymouth we were in quarantine for some time,
and no one was allowed on board, but there were
boats enough with friends and relations in them
hanging around.  In one of them was a beautiful young
woman and an elderly dame, probably her mother.
The whisper--it was nothing else--soon passed round:
'Yonder is poor Jack's wife.'

"Long before she came on board she was in tears;
her sailor lad was not even at a port to wave a
handkerchief.  'He must be ill,' she would have thought.

"'The doctor wishes to speak to you in his cabin,'
a midshipman said, when she appeared on deck.

She came tottering in, supported by the old dame.

"'Jack's ill!' she cried.

"The doctor did not reply.

"'Jack is dead!' she moaned.  'My Jack!'

"We did not answer.  How could we?

"Heigho!  I've seen grief many times since, but I
never witnessed anything to equal that of poor Jack
Wright's young wife.

"But I'm saddening you, boys.  Here, steward, if
there is a dram more punch left, just send it round.

"And now, lads, I'll tell you one more true yarn,
and I think I may just call it:

.. class:: medium center

  "AN ADVENTURE IN SEARCH OF A QUID,

.. vspace:: 2

"For, from the very time Dawson and I shoved off
in the dinghy boat until we set foot on Her Majesty's
quarter-deck with the 'baccy, it was all adventure
together.  Our ship was the saucy *Seamew*, only a
gun-boat, to be sure, but a most bewitching little
thing all over; lay like a duck in the water, and, on
a wind, nothing could touch her.  Our cruising-ground
was the east coast of Africa, well north, where the
fighting dhows floated in the water, and the savage
Somalis on shore speared each other when they hadn't
any white men to practise on.  We never provoked
a fight, but when we did show our teeth, and that
wasn't seldom, we peppered away in good earnest I
assure you.  Now, in such a ship in such a climate
we might have been as happy as the day was long,
but we had just one drawback to general jollity.  Our
skipper was the devil.  That's putting it plain and
straight, but I've no other English for it.  He was
one of your sea lawyers, and lawed it and lorded it
over his officers.  No matter whether a thing was
done rightly or wrongly, you got growled at all the
same.  There wasn't an officer he hadn't been at
loggerheads with, and walked to windward of, too;
and there wasn't a man forward he had not punished
during the cruise.  We had a regular flogging Friday,
a most unlucky day for many a poor fellow on board
the *Seamew*.  There was, therefore, no love lost
between the ward-room and the after-cabin, where the
skipper lived in solitary grandeur; and the men would
have given him to the sharks, if chance had thrown
him in their way, and if the sharks were hungry.
I remember once, at Johanna, a happy thought struck
the skipper and a few of the petty officers at one
and the same time: they thought they would treat
themselves to a few fowls by way of change from the
junk.  The latter, therefore, asked permission of the
former to make the purchase.  'Certainly not,' was
the curt reply, 'unless you bring them dead on board.'  Now,
dead they wouldn't keep a day, so they were
not bought; but the skipper's poultry were brought on
board the same evening, and two nicely-filled hen-coops
they were.  Well, about the middle of the morning-watch,
when the skipper slumbered peacefully in his
cot, two figures might have been seen stealthily
approaching those hen-coops.  'Softly does it,' said one.

'Right you are, Bill,' replied the other.  Then
something dark and square rose slowly over the bulwarks,
and dropped with a dull splash into the sea; and this
happened twice.  And next morning when the skipper
arose, happy in the prospect of 'spatch cock for
breakfast, behold! there wasn't cock nor hen on board to
spatch.  But I should tire you were I to tell a tithe
of the dirty tricks the skipper of the *Seamew* played
his men and officers, so I will content myself with
relating the one that bears reference to my story.
Once, then, we were in terrible straits for grog and
tobacco; we hadn't a drop of the one or a quid of the
other on board--at least not in our mess--and hadn't
had for over a month.  Now, nobody liked a glass
of rum better than the skipper, though he didn't
smoke; so, as long as his own spirits held out, he
didn't care anything for the dearth in the ward-room.
But one day he rejoiced us all by informing us he
would run down to Zanzibar and take in stores.  Well,
anyhow, he took us in nicely, for no sooner had we
dropped anchor before the long white town, than he
called away his gig and landed on the sands.  He was
back again in two hours with the important intelligence,
which we had received, that a three-masted
slave-ship was then cruising in the neighbourhood of
the little island of Chak-Chak.  There wasn't a
moment to be lost--it was, 'All hands on deck, up
anchor and off.'  There wasn't a moment to be lost;
but, mark you this, that beggarly skipper, who drank
but did not smoke, came off with his gig laden to the
gunwale with dainties, spirits included, but not a
morsel of the 'baccy our souls were longing to sniff.
We never saw the three-masted slave-ship either.

"Well, as you doubtless know, there is a town on the
east coast, pretty nigh on the equator, called Lamoo,
a half, or, rather, wholly savage kind of place, ruled
over by an Arab sultan.  It lies not close to the sea,
but about ten miles up a broad-bosomed river.  Like
all African rivers, it is belted off from the sea by a
sand-bar, on which the water is shallow, and the green
breakers tumble over it houses high.  We had been
up this river only once before, but the little *Seamew*
got such a terrible bumping on the bar that our skipper
had resolved never to try the same experiment again.
But, one beautiful, clear-skied, moonlight night, we
found ourselves just outside this bar once more, and,
rather to our astonishment, the order was given to
heave the ship to until morning.  Of course we were
delighted, thinking that boats might be sent up stream
for fruit, and we might get a chance of the coveted
quid; but we were doomed to disappointment, for the
whole of next day was spent in taking soundings, and
in the evening we were told that next morning we
should complete the survey, and then cruise away
north once more.  So the ship was hove-to on the
second evening.  Dawson and I were at the time on
the sick-list, not that there was anything the matter
with us, but the skipper had been bullying us, and
this was the method, with the assistance of the friendly
surgeon, which we took to avenge ourselves.  At this
time the tobacco mania was at its worst.  Our
assistant-paymaster had been heard to mutter that, if the
devil tempted him, he would be inclined to sell his
soul for a bundle of whiffs, and Dawson had openly
asserted that he would give ten years of his life for
the sight of a snuff-box.  But Dawson looked terribly
like a conspirator, when he came stealthily into the
ward-room on the evening of the first day's surveying.

"'Hush! messmates, hush!' he whispered mysteriously,
and we all crowded round him.  'I have it,' he
continued.  'My friend and I are on the list.  We
cannot be missed.'

"'Yes, yes; go on,' we cried in a breath.

"'While *he* dines, we will take a boat and steal up
the river to Lamoo, and bring down 'bacca and grogs.'

"The skipper didn't know the meaning of that
'Hurrah!' that shook the *Seamew* from stem to stern.
No wilder shout ever rang out as we boarded a dhow
'mid smoke and blood.

"By seven o'clock the skipper was just mixing his
third tumbler.  By seven o'clock everything was in
readiness: the oars were muffled and the rudder so
shipped that it wouldn't unship by the under-kick of
a breaker on the bar.  Then, from well-greased blocks
the boat was lowered, and silently, but swiftly, glided
shorewards to the dreaded bar.  We took with us but
two trusty men, and two trusty sacks.  Soon the white
crests of the breakers were in view, and we could hear
their vicious, sullen boom.  Not easy work this
crossing of bars, as you are aware.  Presently we were
heading for the only dark gate in this ocean of
breakers, I steering, Dawson with one helping hand on each
of the oars.  Now we have entered the gate.  "Steady
now, men!"  A wave catches us up behind and hurls
our tiny boat first heavenward, then, with inconceivable
speed, onwards, through a swirl of surf, and, a
few moments afterwards we are in smooth water, wet
but safe.

"'Well done,' said Dawson; 'but if we had capsized,
the sharks would have been dining on us at this
present moment."

"'Beggin' yer pardons, gentlemen,' said one of the
rowers, 'but I'd rather be three days and three nights
in the belly of a shark, like Jonah was, than one whole
blessed month athout tobaccer.'

"'That were a whale, Jim,' said his mate.  'I don't
care a dime,' said the first speaker; 'I knows I likes
my pipe, and I likes a quid.  Now, in a night like
this, for instance, what a blessing it would be to light
up, and--and--why, it won't abear thinkin' on, hanged
if it will.'

"'Now lay on your oars, men,' I said.  'I want to
see what is inside a little bottle of medical comforts
the doctor stowed away under here.'

"It was a bottle of sick-mess sherry, which we all
shared, and pronounced the best ever we had tasted,
and the doctor 'a brick'.

"Onwards now we sped, as fast as oars could pull us,
Dawson and I occasionally relieving the men and
taking a spell at the oars.  It was moonlight, I said, and
until we were fairly in the river this was in favour of
us; now, however, it was all against us.  None hate
the English more than does your fighting Arab of
slave proclivities.  At any moment we might fall in
with a slave dhow, and the crew thereof would certainly
not miss such a favourable opportunity of paying off
old scores.  We had lots of arms on board, and so we
meant, if attacked, to peg away at the beggars to the
bitter end.  However, discretion is the better part of
valour, so we kept right in the centre of the stream,
where we could be least seen.  This was slow work,
but safe.

"It must have been past ten o'clock, and we were
well up the river, when, on rounding a point, we came
suddenly in sight of a large-armed dhow, slowly going
down stream.  My first intention was to alter our
course.  'No, no,' said Dawson, who is no end of a
clever fellow, 'that will only create suspicion.  Let
me hail her;' and he did so in good Arabic.  If
suspicion was excited on board the strange dhow, it
was, I feel sure, lulled again when Dawson began, in
stentorian tones, to sing a well-known Arab boating
chant.  The song, I feel sure, saved us, and so we kept
it up nearly all the way to Lamoo.

"About a mile from the town we crept inshore and
hid our boat in the bush, leaving one man in her.
Now there is but one or two European merchants in
the town, and one of these we knew, but the way to
his house we were ignorant of; but we knew where
Comoro Jack lived in the outskirts.  He had been our
guide before, so thither we went, and happily found
Jack at home: a tall young savage, arrayed only in a
waist belt, and an enormous (42nd Highlander's) busby
on, and a tall spear in one hand.

"'Well, you blessed Englishmen, what you want wid
Jack?'  Such was our greeting.  We hastily told
him, and the amount, and--

"'Comoro Jack will go like a shot,' said the savage.
The sandy streets were well-nigh deserted, and Comoro
Jack, as he strode on beside us, thought himself no end
of a fine fellow.

"'London is one ver' good place,' he informed us,
'as big as Lamoo, and streets better pave, and girls
better dress.  You see it was like this: the French
they take Myotta; poor king ob de island he go to
London to see de British Queen of England, and I go
too among de body-guard.  But when the poor king
come to de palace, 'Will you fight for me de dam
French?' he say.  'Very sorry,' said the British Queen
of England, 'but I cannot fight de dam French."

"'And who', we asked, 'gave you the bonnet and plumes?'

"'De British Queen ob England,' said Comoro Jack.
'She soon spot me out among de niggers, and she put
it on my head.  'Here, poor chile,' she say, 'you not
catch cold wid that."

"The house Comoro Jack led us to was that of a
French merchant, and his hospitality was unbounded;
but we refused all refreshment until we had first
smoked a pipe.  Oh, didn't that pipe make men of us.
We spent a very pleasant half-hour with the merchant;
then we filled our sacks and returned to our boat
happier, surely, than Joseph's brethren could have been
coming up, corn-laden, from the land of the Pharaohs.
We had one or two little escapades going down stream,
caught it wet and nasty on the bar, but got safely and
quietly on board the *Seamew* one hour before
sunrise, and to witness the joy on our mess-mates' faces
when we cracked a bottle of rum and opened a box of
Havanas, more than repaid us for all we had come
through.

"Next morning, to his intense disgust, the skipper
found us all smoking, and looking funny and jolly.
But he never knew where we found the 'baccy."




.. _`tongues of lurid fire--blue, green, and deepest crimson`:

CHAPTER IX.--TONGUES OF LURID FIRE, BLUE, GREEN, AND DEEPEST CRIMSON.
=====================================================================

Very little was talked of during the next few days
except the coming ascent of Mount Terror.  In
the saloon mess non-success was not even dreamt of.
It was only forward about the galley fire that doubts
were mooted.

"Our skipper is just about as plucky as they make
them nowadays," said old Jack Forbes, taking his
short pipe from his mouth, "but, bless ye, boys, look
what's before 'em."

"True for you, Jack," said a mate of his, "they'll be
all frozen to death, and that'll be the way of it.  Hope
they won't ask me to go and help to carry things."

"Nor me," said another.

Nearer and nearer to the western land drew the
bonnie barque, and in the beautiful sunshine she
anchored at last in a bay close under the shadow of
the mountain they were to attempt to scale.

Captain Talbot made all preparations at once.
There was indeed but little time to lose now, for ere
long the frosts would set in, and if not clear of the
southern ice ere then, hard indeed might be their lot.

When going upon a dangerous expedition it is the
duty of every brave man to do all in his power to
guard against failure.  Talbot, therefore, left not a
stone unturned to ensure success; whether he secured
it or not, he seemed determined to merit it.

Alpen-stocks were made for the purpose, and so, too,
were ice-axes, though these latter were necessarily
primitive.

Very little ammunition and few arms were to be
taken.  In the lone recesses of the hills and in that
wild mountain, they had nothing to fear from savage
man or beast.  The land in here was as desolate and
barren of everything but snow and ice as that
worn-out world, the moon itself.

Ropes were also to be taken, they might come in
handy in many ways.  The skipper was an old Alpine-club
man, and well did he know his way about.

Provisions for a whole week, and just a little rum in
case of illness or over-exertion, for in the bitter cold
of upper regions like those they were about to visit,
exhaustion may often come on soon and sudden.

The captain himself made choice of three brave
sturdy fellows to accompany the expedition and carry
the necessaries as well as instruments of observation.

"And now, youngsters," said Talbot one evening,
"which two of the three of you are to be of the
party."

"I think," he added, "you better toss for it.  I
daresay you are all burning to come."

Duncan and Conal smiled and nodded, but Frank
shook his head.

"I expect," he said, "there will be precious little
burning high up yonder unless you happen to take a
header into the crater.  I'm not going to get frozen, I
can assure you.  I want to stick to all my toes, so toss
away if you like, sir.  Perhaps an Irishman or two
might suit you best."

"Why, Frank?" said Duncan.

"Why?  Because they're all fond of a drop of the
crater (crayture), don't you see?"

"How could you make so vile a pun, old Frank?"

Vike seemed to know that an expedition of some
kind was being got up.  He put one great paw on
Duncan's knee and looked appealingly up into his face.

"You might want my assistance," he seemed to say.

"No, doggie, no, not this journey," said Duncan,
smoothing his bonnie head.

So Vike lay down before the fire, heaving a deep
sigh as he did so.

Although all dogs sigh more or less--their intimate
association with mankind being the usual cause--still
sighing seems to be an especial characteristic of the
noble breed we term Newfoundland.

----

Everything was ready and packed, including, of
course, a long plank and a light but strong rope-ladder
many fathoms in length.

It was a very bright and beautiful morning when
the little expedition started; the crew manning the
rigging and giving three times three of those ringing
British cheers that are heard wherever our ensign--red,
blue, or navy-white--flutters out on the breeze.

It was but little past sunrise.  The oriel windows
of the glorious S.E. were still painted in colours rare
and radiant, but hardly a breath of air blew across
the untrodden fields of snow that now stretched out
and away to the westward--a good ten miles, until
bounded at last by the great rising hills.

Silence now as deep as death.

They were deserted even by the birds.

But in a great snow-clad wilderness like this, with
unseen, unheard-of dangers, mayhap, ahead, what a
comfort it is to know that He who made the universe
is ever near to all those who call upon Him even in
thought, if in spirit and in truth.

The ship was out of sight now, hidden by bluffy
ice-covered rocks; and Talbot was acting as guide to the
party, taking the direction which he believed would
lead him to the side of the mountain which appeared
to be most accessible.

For more than a mile the "road" was rugged indeed.

"There's many a slip twixt the cup and the lip,"
says the old adage.  But here was many a slip 'tween
the toes and the lip and many a stumble also.  Soon,
however, they came to a wide and level plain of snow.

"Cheerily does it now, lads," cried the skipper.
"Who is going to give us some music?"

A stirring old song was soon rising high on the
morning air, and everyone joined in the chorus.

But when the last notes had died away, Duncan
produced his great Highland bagpipes and began to
get them into position across his broad right shoulder.

The skipper laughed.

"I declare," he said, "there is no end to the enthusiasm
and patriotic feelings of you Scots.  But tune
up, lad."

Duncan strutted on in front and soon started the
Gordon Highlanders' march.

The bold and beautiful notes put life and spirit into
every heart.

Then he played all kinds of airs, not forgetting
either the pibroch or quick-step.  But not the
coronach.  That wild wail is--

   |   "A lilt o' dool (grief) and sorrow ",

and all must now be brave and cheerful

----

Twelve miles as the crow flies they marched.  And
now they were at the foot of the wondrous mountain,
and a halt was called for breakfast.  Water was boiled
with methylated spirits, and savoury coffee with bread
and meat galore soon made all hands forget their
fatigue.

Then the men and the skipper himself lit their
pipes, and lay down to rest for half an hour on the top
if the sunlit snow.  They would need all their strength
and courage now without a doubt.

"Now, my brave fellows"--it was Talbot's voice
that broke the intensity of silence, and a cheery one
it was--"now, my lads, our motto must be that of the
youth who passed in such a hurry through the Alpine
village while shades of night were falling fast--*Excelsior*!"

"Onwards and upwards!"

"That's it, Duncan.  As to the bold youth with his
bold banner, I think he must have been somewhat
foolish to start after sunset.  Well, that was his
lookout.  Anyhow, we have a twenty hours' long day
before us, so I must now give the word--March!"

And on they went.

On and on, and up and up.

No thoughts of singing now, however.  The ascent
was steep, and scarce had anyone breath enough to
spend in talking.

But the brave young mountaineer Duncan, alpenstock
in hand, was first, with Captain Talbot by his
side, and a little farther down struggled Conal
encouraging the men, and now and then helping to carry
their loads.

These, however, were not very heavy.  But the
lightest burden seems a great weight when one is
climbing a mountain.

It was one o'clock before they had succeeded in
reaching an altitude of four thousand feet, and the
worst was all before them.

Everyone was tired enough by this time.  Tired
and hungry too.

But while coffee was being warmed and provision
tins opened, those not actually engaged at the work
lay down to rest, Conal and Duncan, with the captain
and the other carrier, among the rest.

The sun had, of course, crossed the meridian, but
though still brightly shining, his rays were far indeed
from warm or inspiring.

Moreover, although there was no wind on the great
snow-plains below, here a breeze was blowing, and it
needed not only food but the hottest of coffee to
enable them to stand the cold.

They had now a much longer rest than before, and
more than one man fell so soundly asleep that his pipe
dropped out of his mouth.

"Now, lads," said the skipper at last, "let us put
another thousand feet in it.  Never say die, boys.
Excelsior, you know!"

He did not speak loud.  No need to; for the slightest
whisper could have been heard in the silence around
them, even a hundred yards away.

The silence, indeed, was solemn, awesome; a silence
that could be felt; a silence that seemed to creep round
the heart and senses, and which no one cared to break.
Not even the light breeze made murmur, or even whisper,
as it swept over the plateau on which they now sat.

But from their elevated situation the scene spread
out before them was wondrous in the extreme.  To
the north they could gaze away and away over the
far-off blue ocean, and to the east all was ice.

It was towards the south, however, that Talbot's
telescope was turned, with so many longing, lingering
looks, before he resumed the upward journey.

The Norsemen have a legend that around the North
Polar regions-at the Pole itself, indeed--there is a
great open sea; that green luxuriant islands dot its
blue surface, and that thereon dwell a people who
have never committed sin, but are still in a pristine
state of innocence, just as God made them--"but a
little lower than the angels".

Was Talbot expecting to gaze upon just such
another open sea as this, I wonder?  If so, he was
disappointed.  So he shut up the great telescope with
a sigh.  Higher up he would see further, however.

So the march was resumed.

And now for many miles, although the hill-gradient
was not so steep, walking was infinitely more arduous,
and every here and there they came upon a crevasse in
the ice, which had to be bridged over at its very
narrowest part by the plank.  This was fearsome and
truly dangerous work, for that plank was but narrow,
and, moreover, it was impossible to keep it from being
slippery here and there.

Talbot was ever the first to walk across that terrible
bridge; but he was secured to those on the other side
by the long rope; and so handy did this bridge turn
out that they gained an elevation that day of six
thousand feet above the level of the sea.

----

At this point they reached a perpendicular ice-cliff
that rose sheer up from a narrow plateau to a height
of probably five hundred feet.

It was found impossible to scale it, so they had to
wend their way around to the west side of this
mountain, so well named Mount Terror.

The day was now far spent, and so Talbot determined
to order a halt, and after supper to rest till
another day should break.

Except when cliffs intervened, they had hitherto
been quite in sight of the ship, and could even make
out her signals.  But now a shoulder of the mount
itself intervened, and for a time they should see the
*Flora M'Vayne* no more.

But now a new surprise awaited them.  For just
here, on this side of the hill, they found a stream, or
spring of water, trickling down the mountain side,
and forming in its way a clear and wonderfully-shaped
icy cascade.

It was caused by the melting of the snow, certainly
not by the sun's heat, but by the eternal volcanic fires
that were pent up in the mountain itself.

What could be more marvellous!

Strangely beautiful, too, were these frozen cascades,
for therein could be seen every colour of the rainbow,
all of radiant light.  Beauties certainly never designed
to please man's eye.

Alas! what poor selfish mortals we human beings
are!  Everything made for our use, indeed!  The
very idea makes one who has travelled, and who has
seen Nature in all its shows and forms, smile.  It is
a doctrine that only your poor stay-at-home mortals
can possibly put faith in.

Another surprise--a cave.

They venture fearfully into it, feeling their way
with their alpen-stocks.

They have not gone far ere a low, half-stifled roar,
from far beneath apparently, falls upon their ears.  It
is like the first angry growling of a lion ere he springs
upon his prey.

They pause and listen.  The sound is repeated, and
they will venture no farther for the present.

But here, in this vast cavern, which, when lighted
up by torches which have been brought on purpose--for
Talbot had expected to meet with caves--its
beauty is of so extraordinary a character that it
cannot be described.

A great galaxy of shining pillars that are found to
be some strange form of stalactite, emitting on every
side more than the light and colour and glory of a
billion of diamonds!

By torch-light they ventured somewhat farther on,
until an awful crevasse interrupted their progress.  So
dark, so deep and awesome it seemed, that all hands
drew back, almost in a sweat of cold terror.  But it
was apparently from the bottom of this fearful gully
that the muttering noises proceeded now and then,
and holding each other as they gazed far down the
dark abyss, they could see tongues of lurid fire, blue,
green, and deepest crimson, playing about.  Yet no
suffocating odour arose therefrom.  Hence Captain
Talbot concluded that some other outlet and current
of air carried these away.

Retreating some distance towards the entrance,
Duncan found a piece of rock, and hurled it towards
the crevasse.  The result was wonderful.  The hurtling
thunder was deafening, and the echoes came rumbling
from every portion of the cave, and continued for
many minutes.  But whence, or why the sound of
explosions, as if cannonading were going on in every
direction?  Not even Captain Talbot himself, scientist
though he was, could give a sufficient answer to a
question like this.

But this cave must be their camping ground
to-night.  So once more the big spirit-stove was lit, and
they prepared to enjoy their well-earned supper.

Then they sat and smoked and yarned for quite a
long time.

Nor did Talbot forget to splice the main-brace, and
surely no men were ever more deserving of a dram,
as Duncan and Conal called it, than the three brave
fellows who had struggled so far up the mountainside
with their heavy loads.

"This is not Saturday night, men," said the skipper,
raising his mug of coffee with a suspicion of whisky
therein, "but nevertheless I must propose once more
the dear old toast: 'Sweethearts and wives', and may
the Lord be near them."

"Sweethearts and wives!" cried all the group.  Then
caps were raised, and cups were speedily drained.

"And the Lord be near us too, this night," said one
of the men.  "Ah! little does our people at home know
where we are, sir."

"Well, the Lord is everywhere near to those who
call on him," replied the skipper.

"I'm sayin', sorr," said Ted Noolan, a light-hearted
Paddy whom no kind of danger could ever daunt;
"saints be praised the Lord is near, but troth it's
meself that's believin' the d--l--bad scran to him!--can't
be far away either, for lookin' down that awful
gulch, 'Ted,' says I to meself, 'if that ain't the
back-door to the bad place, it's nowhere else on earth.'"

But his superstition did not prevent Paddy from
curling up on his rugs when the others did, and going
soundly off to sleep.

Nor did the far-off muttering thunders of the dread
abyss keep anybody from enjoying a real good night's
rest.




.. _`so poor conal must perish!`:

CHAPTER X.--SO POOR CONAL MUST PERISH!
======================================

Duncan was first to the fore in the morning.  He
touched Captain Talbot lightly on the shoulder,
and he awoke at once.

It took a whole series of shakings, however, to
arouse Conal.  He had been dreaming of his far-off
Highland home, and when he did at last sit up and
rub his eyes, it took him fully a minute to know
where he was in particular.

Well, while the men prepared a simple breakfast of
coffee, sardines, butter, and soft tack, the skipper and
the boys left the cave and went in for as thorough
ablution as was in their power at the snow-water rill.
They felt infinitely refreshed thereafter; a large box
of sardines, placed for discussion before each,
disappeared almost magically, for bracing indeed was the
breeze that blew high up on this dreary mountain.

And now, the sun being well up, climbing was resumed.

Only about two thousand feet more remained to be
discussed, but this formed the toughest climb of all.
For not only was the breeze now high and the gradient
steep, but the cold was intense, while breathing was
far from easy.

Indeed, although an ascent of ten to twelve
thousand feet may not be considered a tall record for
accomplished club-men in the Alpine regions of
Europe, it would be a terrible undertaking for even
those among the perpetual snows of the Antarctic.

It needed not only all the strength, but even all the
courage that our heroes were possessed of, to finally
succeed.  For in many parts a single slip might have
precipitated three of them at least into chasms or over
precipices that were too fearful even to think of.

Indeed, several such slips did occur, but luckily the
ropes held, and the foremost men, planting their feet
firmly against the mountain-side, succeeded in
preventing an accident.

The danger was quite as great, when steps had to
be hewn on the sides of ice-rocks, and the labour in
such cases five times as fatiguing, and happy they felt,
on every such occasion, when they found themselves
on a plateau.

"Whatever a man dares he can do!"

The grand old motto of, I believe, the clan Cameron;
but many a man of a different clan has felt the force
and the truth of these brave words.  Both Duncan
and his brother seemed to do so, when they stood at
long last with their comrades on the very summit of
Mount Terror, and on the brink of its terrible, though
partially extinct, crater.

Who would venture to peep over into the awful
gulf, which, by the way, Ted Noolan believed to be
really an opening into the nether regions--the regions
of despair?

Duncan was the first to volunteer.  The others
followed suit with one exception.

What a gulf!  It must have been acres in extent,
and fully one thousand feet in depth.  The precipices
that formed its sides were at times even black and
sheer; in some places overhanging, and in others
sloping so that one might have tobogganed down into the
regions of perpetual fire.  Not everywhere down
yonder, however, were flames visible.  It was more a
collection of boiling, bubbling cauldrons, emitting jets
of sulphurous smoke, the surface of the molten lava
being continually crossed by flickering tongues of
flame, transcendently beautiful.

Right in the centre was an irregular gaping mouth,
and from this smoke now and then arose, accompanied
by hurtling horrible thunders that made our strong-hearted
heroes quiver.  Not with fear, I shall not go
so far as that, but no one could tell at what moment
an eruption might take place.

To Duncan's waist the rope had been made fast, else
he never would have ventured to lean over that awful
crater.

It was the captain's turn next.  Then came Conal's
and the men's.

All but Ted.

"Is it me myself?" he said, drawing back, when
asked to do as the others had done.  "Fegs! no.  It
is faint I would entoirely, and faint and fall over.
Bedad!  I've no raison to go to such a place as that
before my time."

Captain Talbot now proceeded to take his observations.
His aneroid told him, to begin with, that the
mountain was more nearly twelve than eleven
thousand feet above the sea-level.  Piercingly cold though
it was, he took time to make a note of everything.
But I should not have used the word "cold".  This is
far from descriptive of the lowness of temperature
experienced, for the spirit thermometer stood at 40°
below zero.

It was now four o'clock in the afternoon, and all
hands were almost exhausted from fatigue.  But
Talbot was not so foolish as to give them stimulants.
This would only have resulted in a sleepy or partially
comatose state of the brain, and an accident would
assuredly have followed.

"Now, men, we have seen all there is to see, and
I've taken my observations, so it is time we were
getting down again to our sheltering cave, in which
we shall pass one night more.  But we can say that
we have been the first to ascend this mighty mountain,
and human feet have never before traversed the
ground on which you now are standing.

"See here," he continued, suiting the action to the
word, "I place this little flag--the British ensign--and
though storms may rend it, this mountain, and all
the land and country around, shall evermore belong to us."

He handed the still-extended telescope to Duncan
as he spoke and pointed to the south.

No open sea there!  But the roughest, wildest kind
of snow-clad country anyone could well imagine.  Yet,
far far away, the jagged peaks of many a mountain
rose high on the horizon.

And now "God save the Queen", was sung, and the
very crater itself seemed to echo back the wild cheers
that rose high on the evening air.

Solemn and serious all must be now however, for
although the descent would not occupy so much time,
it was quite as fraught with peril as the coming up
had been, and even more so.

The rope was constantly kept taut, however, on
every extra dangerous position, with the happy result
that they reached the cave in good time, all tired, but
all safe.

The cold was not nearly so intense here, however,
and in the strange and beautiful--nay, but fairy-like
cave--it was almost *nil*.

Never did brave and weary travellers enjoy a
supper more.  So sure were they of reaching their
ship next day, that they gave themselves some extra
indulgences, and tins of mock-turtle soup were warmed
and eaten with the greatest of relish.

----

They sat long together to-night talking of home
in the "olde countrie", and many a droll yarn was
told and many a story of adventure by sea and land.

Bed at last, if one may call it a bed, with only the
hard rock to lie upon, and a rug wherein to wrap
one's-self, curled up like a ferret to retain all the warmth
of the body.  For sleeping-bags had been left behind
after all.

What though subterranean thunders roared far
beneath them many times and oft during the night,
they heard them not, so doubly soundly did they sleep.

There is always one thing to be said concerning
adventures of a very dangerous character, namely, that
though kept up by excitement, we may not be sorry
to enter into them, and go through with them, too, like
Britons bold and true, still we are rather glad than
otherwise when they are over.

Our heroes awoke next morning, therefore, betimes,
and squatted down to breakfast, hungry and happy
enough.  Would they not soon be back once more on
their brave barque, to tell their comrades of all their
strange experiences?

It is doubtless a good thing for us that we are not
prescient, else thinking of troubles to come would
cast a gloom over everyone's life that nothing could
banish.

Little did these officers and men of the *Flora
M'Vayne*, as they resumed their downward journey,
know of the trouble before them.

They had reached the very last crevasse, and were
in full view of the ship, although at least five thousand
feet above it, when an accident occurred of a very
startling nature indeed.

The plank was just thrown across and Conal had
stepped on to it, roped, of course, to his fellows, when,
to their horror, it slipped, and was precipitated into
the chasm.

And with it fell Conal!

The skipper and Duncan had held the rope taut,
but it snapped as if it had been made of straw.

Luckily, although the wretched boy fell sheer down
only a distance of about fifty feet, the rest he slid on
loose pieces of ice and snow.

On referring to the log-book of Captain Talbot,
which lies on my table before me, the abyss or
ice-crevasse is stated to have been about two hundred
feet in depth.  And there was no outlet.

Nor any apparent means of saving the poor fellow,
for although his companions would gladly have
hurried to the ship for assistance they could not
cross that ice-ravine, nor could they retreat for want
of a plank.

So, poor Conal must perish!

----

It was about two bells in the first watch, and
Frank with faithful Vike was walking to and fro on
the quarter-deck.

He had a telescope under his arm, and every now
and then he directed it to the far-off mountain, adown
which he had observed his shipmates streaming since
ever they had arrived on the easternmost side of
Mount Terror.

How well named!

So good was the glass that he could count them as
he came, and even make out their forms.  Duncan's
was stalwart and easily seen, Conal's lither far than
Captain Talbot's, and the men were bearing their
packages.

He watched them as they approached the last dread
crevasse.

With some anxiety, he could not tell why, he saw
the plank raised and lowered across the abyss, and
noticed that it was Conal's light form that first began
to cross.

Suddenly he uttered a bitter cry of anguish and
despair.

"Mate, mate!" he shouted.  "Oh, come, come!  There
has been a fearful accident, and Conal is killed."

As if hoping against hope, both he and the mate
counted the number on the small ice plateau over and
over again.

There had been six in all.

Now there were but five!

And these seemed now to be signalling for assistance.

There was but one thing to be done, however
hopeless it might seem, and that was to get up and
despatch a party to the rescue as soon as day should
once more break.

Had they been ready they should have started at
once.  But Frank had a good head on his shoulders
for one so young, and in a matter of life and death
like this he was right in considering well what had
best be done.

Of course he consulted with the mate, and he
immediately suggested a rope of many, many fathoms
in length.

"Doubtless," he said, "poor Conal is dead, or if
stunned he will speedily freeze to death, but we
would be all unwilling to sail away and leave the
poor bruised body in the terrible crevasse."

"Have we rope enough on board to be of real
service?" asked Frank in a voice broken with emotion.

"Bless you, yes, my boy, fifty fathoms of manilla,
light, but strong enough to bear an ox's weight."

"Thank God!" cried Frank fervidly.

There was little thought of rest now till long past
sunset.

A plank of extra breadth was got ready, and the
rope was coiled so that several hands could assist in
bearing it along.

Provisions were also packed, and so all was ready
for the forlorn hope.

The relief party now lay down to snatch a few
hours of rest, but, soon after the crimson and orange
glory of the sky heralded the approach of the sun,
they were aroused from their slumbers.

Breakfast was speedily discussed, and now they were
ready.

There was no hesitation about Frank Trelawney,
the Cockney boy, now.  He was British all over, and
brave because he was British.  His dearest friend,
Conal, lay stark and stiff in that fearful ice-gap; he
would be one of the first to help the poor bruised
body to bank, ay, and bedew it with tears which it
would be impossible to restrain.

----

It had been an anxious and sad night for those on
the hill.  They could until sunset see the wretched
Conal in that darksome crevasse, and they did all they
could do, for they made up a bundle of rugs with
plenty of provisions enclosed and hurled it down.

Strangely enough, he could talk to those on the
hillside, and they to him, without elevating their voices.

They bade him be of good cheer, for signals from
the *Flora* told them that preparations for rescue were
already being made.

Frank's march across the great snow plains was a
forced one, but an hour's rest and a good meal was
indispensable before the ascent could be attempted.

Perhaps no mountain was ever climbed more speedily
by men in any country.  They had the trail of the
captain and his party to guide them, but nevertheless
the work was arduous in the extreme.

Should they be in time?

Or was Conal dead?

These were the questions that they asked each
other over and over again.

They hoped against hope, however, as brave men ever do.




.. _`thus hand in hand the brothers sleep`:

CHAPTER XI.--THUS HAND IN HAND THE BROTHERS SLEEP.
==================================================

They arrived at the plateau in the afternoon, and
cautiously, yet quickly was the plank placed over.

Frank did not wait to attach the rope to his waist,
so eager was he.  The yawning green gulf beneath
him might have tried the nerve of Blondin.  He
paused not to think, however, but went over almost
with the speed of a bird upon the wing, and more
slowly the others followed.

They brought with them the end of the coils of rope,
and these were speedily hauled across.

For a few moments Frank and Duncan stood silently
clasping each other's hands; and the Cockney lad
could tell by the look of anguish in his Highland
cousin's face that the worst had occurred.

"Too late! too late!" Duncan managed to say at last,
and he turned quickly away to hide the blinding tears.

"Poor Conal," explained the captain, "is lying down
yonder--that black object is he enveloped in rugs, but
he has made no sign for hours, and doubtless is frozen
hard enough ere now."

"Come," cried Frank, "be of good cheer, my dear
Duncan, till we are certain.  Perhaps he does but sleep."

"Yes, he sleeps," said Duncan mournfully, "and death
is the only door which leads from the sleep that cold
and frost bring in their train."

"Come, men," cried Frank, now taking command, for
he was full of life and energy, "uncoil the rope most
carefully.  I am light, Captain Talbot, so I myself will
make the descent.  I shall at once send poor Conal to
bank, or as soon as I can get him bent on.  Haul up
when I shout."

When all the rope was got loose and made into one
great coil, the end was thrown over into the crevice to
make sure it would reach.

It did reach, with many fathoms to spare; so it was
quickly hauled up and recoiled again.

A bight was now made at one end, and into this
brave Frank quickly, and with sailor-like precision,
hitched himself.

"Lower away now, men.  Gently does it.  Draw
most carefully up as soon as I shout.  When poor
Conal is drawn to bank, lower again for me."

Next minute Frank had disappeared over the brink
of the abyss, and was quickly and safely landed
beneath.

He approached the bundle of rugs with a heart that
never before felt so brimful of anguish and doubt.

And now he carefully draws aside the coverings.
A pale face, white and hard, half-open eyes, and a
pained look about the lowered brows and drawn lips.

Is there hope?

Frank will not permit himself even to ask the question.

But speedily he forms a strong hammock with one
of the rugs.  Not a sailor's knot ever made that this
boy is not well acquainted with.  And now, after
making sure that all is secure, he signals, and five
minutes after this the body is got to bank without a
single hitch.

Then while two men, with Captain Talbot and
Duncan, commence operations on the stiff and
apparently frozen body, the others lower away again, and
presently after Frank's young and earnest face is seen
above the snow-rift.

He is helped up, and proceeds at once to lend assistance.

Conal had been a favourite with all the men, and
now they work in relays, the one relay relieving the
other every five minutes, chafing and rubbing hands,
arms, legs, and chest with spirits.

Duncan can do nothing.

He seems stupefied with grief.

After nearly half an hour of hard rubbing and
kneading, to the skipper's intense joy the flesh of the
arms begins to get softer.  Presently a blue knot
appears on one, and he knows there is a slight flicker
of life reviving in the apparently lifeless body.

The lamp may flicker with a dying glare, and
Talbot knows this well, so he refrains from communicating
his hopes to disconsolate Duncan.

But he endeavours now to restore respiration, by
slowly and repeatedly pressing the arms against the
chest, and alternately raising them above the head.

The rubbing goes on.

Soon the eyelids quiver!

There seems to be a struggle, for the poor boy's face
turns red--nay, almost blue.  Then there is a deep
convulsive sigh.

Just such a sigh as this might be his last on earth,
or it might be the first sign of returning life.

Talbot puts his hand on Conal's cold wrist.  The
pulse flickers so he scarce can feel it; but it is there.

Operations are redoubled.  Sigh after sigh is emitted,
and soon--

"Heaven be praised!" cries Captain Talbot, for of
his own accord Conal opens his eyes.

He even murmurs something, and shuts them once
more, as if in utter weariness he fain would go to sleep.

But that sleep might end in death.  No, he must be
revived.

The circulation increases.

The life so dear to all is saved, for now Conal can
swallow a little brandy.

Duncan's head has fallen on his knee and open
palms as he crouches shivering on the snow, and the
tears that have welled through his fingers lie in frozen
drops on his clothing.

Gently, so gently, steals Talbot up behind him.
Gently, so gently, he lays one hand on his shoulder.

"Duncan, can you bear the news?"

"Yes, yes, for the bitterness of death is past."

"But it is not death, dear lad, but--life."

"Life!  I cannot believe it!  Have you saved him?

"Then," he added, "my Father, who art in heaven,
receive Thou the praise!

"And you, friend Talbot," he continued, pressing
his captain's hand, "the thanks."

----

Conal was got safely back over the crevasse, and in
his extempore hammock borne tenderly down the
mountain-side until the plain below was reached.

But by this time he is able to raise his eyes and
speak to his now joyful brother.

He even tries to smile.

"A narrow squeak, wasn't it?" he says.

His brother scarce can answer, so nervous does he
feel after the terrible shock to the system.

The men, however, are thoroughly exhausted, and
so under the shelter of a rock a camp is formed once
more, and supper cooked.

Coffee and condensed milk seem greatly to restore
the invalid, and once more he feels drowsy.

Soon the sun sets, and it being considered not
unsafe now to permit Conal to sleep, the best couch
possible is made for him, and a tin flask of hot water
being laid near to his heart, his skin becomes warm,
and he is soon afterwards sleeping and breathing as
gently and freely as a child of tender years.

There is a little darkness to-night; but a moon is
shining some short distance up in the sky and casting
long dark shadows from the boulders across that
dazzling field of snow.

Diamond stars are in the sky.

Yes, and there seems to be a diamond in every snowflake.

Duncan will not sleep, however, till he has seen his
brother's face once more and heard him breathe.
"For what," he asks himself, "if his recovery be but
a dream from which I shall presently awake?"

His own rugs are laid close to his brother's, and he
gently removes a corner of the latter, and lets the
moon-rays fall on Conal's face.

The boy opens his eyes.

"Is it you, Duncan?"

"It is me, my brother."

"Then hold my hand and I shall sleep."

Duncan did as he was told.

"Duncan!"

"Yes, Conal."

"I feel as if I were a child again once more, but
oh! how foolishly, how stupidly nervous."

"We are both so.  Yet, blessed be Heaven, you
will recover, Conal, and I shall also."

"When I was really a child, Duncan, my mother, our
mother, used to croon over my cradle verses from that
sweet old hymn of Isaac Watts.  Do you remember it?"

"Ay, Conal, lad, and the music too."

"It is so sweet and plaintive.  Sing it, Duncan.
That is, just a verse or two; for sleep, it seems to me, is
already beginning to steal down on the moonbeams to
seal my aching eyes."

Duncan had a beautiful voice; but he could modulate
it, so that no one could hear it many yards away.
This does he now.

Singing to Conal as mother used to sing it.  Singing
to Conal and to Conal only.

   |   "Hush, my dear, lie still and slumber!
   |     Holy angels guard thy bed!
   |   Heavenly blessings without number
   |     Gently falling on thy head."

.. vspace:: 2

Sleep does steal down on the moonbeams ere long,
and seals the eyes of both.

Thus hand in hand the brothers sleep.




.. _`winter life in an antarctic pack`:

CHAPTER XII.--WINTER LIFE IN AN ANTARCTIC PACK.
===============================================

Changes in temperature take place soon and
sudden in those far-off Antarctic regions, and on the
very night succeeding the return of our heroes from
the dangers of that daring but terrible ascent of
Mount Terror, it came on to blow high and hard from
the south.

It was a snow-laden wind too, with the lowest
temperature that had yet been logged.

So dense was the snow-mist that it was impossible
to see the jibboom when standing close by the
bowsprit.  The drift blew suffocatingly along the upper
deck of the *Flora*, and it was covered with an
ice-glaze that, owing to the motion of the vessel, made
walking a business of the greatest difficulty.

The vessel was driven northwards till she found
herself close to an immense ice-floe, and to this they
determined to make fast.

Anchors were at once got out, therefore, and landed
and secured.

The motion was somewhat less after that.

What was most to be dreaded was a squeeze, for if
any of those huge crystalline bergs were to rush them
alongside, poor indeed would be their hopes of being
saved.  Indeed the vessel, strong as she was, would
be crushed, as one may crush an egg-shell.

All hands were now called to endeavour, if possible,
to make her more secure.

By and by the wind lulled somewhat, and the
atmosphere cleared.

It would only be temporary, however, and well
Captain Talbot knew it.

But they had now a chance of noting their position,
and a dangerous one it was.  The open water was
getting narrower and narrower, so it was determined
to seek for the safest ice.  This was some pancake
that lay to the north of them, so, just sufficient sail
was got up to enable the ship to reach it.

This she did with safety so far, but the storm came
on again with all its force, and with such fury, that it
was found impossible to dock her.

To work in so choking and suffocating a cloud of
ice-dust would have taken the heart out of anyone,
save a true-blue British sailor.  Moreover, as mittened
cats cannot easily catch mice, so was it difficult for
the men to work with heavy gloves on, and the order
was, not on any account to take them off.

One poor fellow who, in a moment of thoughtlessness,
pulled off his mittens, had both hands so
badly-frost-bitten that he was incapable of duty for many
many months.

They were now, however, in a comparatively safe
position, for bay or pancake ice is a protection for a
ship, if she has the misfortune to be frozen up in a
pack like this.

In fate, or rather in Providence, they must put
their trust; but whenever the weather cleared for a
spell many an anxious eye was turned towards two
mountainous blocks of green ice that lay only about
a hundred yards to the south of the ship's position.
They must have been about ninety feet out of the
water and eight times as much beneath.  Should the
wind act with sufficient force on their green glittering
sides it would go hard with the *Flora M'Vayne*.

This storm lasted not a day only, but over a week,
and during all this time the limit of their vision was
bounded but by a few yards.

Well for all was it that the *Flora* was strong, for
on three separate occasions the good ship was nipped.
This was undoubtedly owing to the pressure of the
big bergs on the pancake ice.

But the pancake alongside was piled up by this
pressure against the *Flora's* sides, like a pack of
cards.  The noise at such times was indescribable.  It
was a medley of roaring, shrieking, and caterwauling,
with now and then a loud report, and now and then a
dull and startling thud.

Moreover, the ice had got under the vessel's bows,
and had heaved her up so high forward, that walking
as far as the fo'c's'le was like climbing a slippery hill.

Viking, I verily believe, went now and then as far
as the bowsprit, just that he might have the pleasure
of sliding down again.  But the great penguin and
the monkey, who seemed to have sworn eternal
friendship, preferred remaining below.  Moreover, they
seemed to think that a seat in front of the saloon fire
was far more comfortable than the galley; and there
they were, a most comical couple indeed, for as old
Pen stood there on his tail, warming first one foot and
then another at the stove, the kind-hearted ape sat
close beside him with one arm placed lovingly around
the great bird's shoulder.

One morning Conal and Frank went on deck as usual.

The sunrise clouds were still radiantly beautiful in
orange, mauve, and crimson, but the wind was gone,
and the storm fled to the back of the north pole or
elsewhere.

They could see around them, therefore.

"Why, Frank," cried Conal, scratching his head in
astonishment, "where on earth have they shifted
Mount Terror to?"

Sure enough, the great volcanic mountain on which
the young fellow had so nearly lost his life was a very
long way astern indeed, and seemed endeavouring to
hide its diminished head in a cloud of gray-blue mist.

"The explanation is simple enough, I think,"
replied Frank.  "They--whoever 'they' may mean--haven't
shifted the mountain, but we've been driven
far to the nor'ard with the force of the gale."

"Oh!" said Conal, laughing, "I know better than
that.  We've never moved, Frank.  There is the same
ice about us still, and our big neighbours, the icebergs,
are yonder also."

"Well," answered Frank, "we've been like the
Irishman on the steamboat, we've been standing
stock-still, yet all the while we've been moving."

"That's it," said Captain Talbot, who happened to
come up at this moment.  "That's it, Conal; Frank's
right, and all this vast plain of snow-clad ice has been
in motion northwards, and it has taken us with it."

"Wonders will never cease!" said Conal.

"Not in this world, nor the next either.  But breakfast
will soon be ready--earlier this morning, because
we're going to work."

"Oh, by the way, sir, are you going on a balloon
voyage now?"

"Alas!" said Talbot, almost sadly, "that, I fear, will
have to be abandoned for the present cruise.  My
intentions were excellent, but

   |   "'The best laid schemes o' mice an' men
   |           Gang aft a-gley,
   |   An' lea'e us nought but grief and pain,
   |           For promised joy'.

Another day and another voyage will be needed for
the balloon adventures.

"Well," he added, more cheerily, "our cruise has not
been in vain, you know.  I have taken many meteorological
observations.  We have scaled the heights of
mighty Mount Terror, and we have proved that Right
whales do abound in these seas; so that we have really
re-opened a long-lost industry."

"We sailed in search of fortune," said Frank; "we
have got some, haven't we, sir?"

"If we manage to get clear of this somewhat
dangerous pack and to reach Kerguelen Island, I think
we'll lay in enough sea-elephant skins and blubber to
make up a rich and splendid cargo.

"But," he added, looking towards the monster
icebergs, "I do wish these fellows were farther off."

"I suppose we couldn't blow them up, could we?"
said innocent Conal.

Talbot laughed.

"My dear boy," he answered, "if we could blow
these blocks up, we might try our skill on the rock of
Gibraltar next."

Although the autumn was already far advanced and
dreary winter on ahead, still Talbot did not despair of
getting clear before it came on.

This forenoon all hands were set at work to clear
the ice from under the bows.

Hard work indeed, but it was finished eventually
with the aid of good gunpowder.  Small cases of this
were placed under the packs of pancake by means of
a long pole, and fired with waterproof fuses.  The
smashed-up pieces were thrust in under the main pack,
and so in time the *Flora M'Vayne* found herself on an
even keel.

The officers and crew could breathe more freely now,
and sat down to dinner with that hearty appetite
which hard work, if interesting, never fails to call up.

A whole month passed away.

There was no change, and seldom even a breath of
wind, but the nights were now very long indeed, and
soon, very soon, it would be all night.

Another month went slowly by.

It was now far on in May, and June in these
latitudes means the dead depth of winter.

"There isn't the ghost of a chance, Morgan," said
Talbot one morning while breakfasting by lamp-light;
"there isn't the slightest chance of our getting clear
away from here, till spring winds break up the ice and
carry us north and away."

Morgan did not answer directly.

He was thinking.

"How about provisions, sir?" he asked at last.

"Well, we ought to have enough of every sort to
last for a year, and by that time, please Heaven, we
shall be safe in Cape Town harbour.

"But," he added, "I was going to talk to you on
this very subject."

"Well, sir."

"Well, mate, I think it would be as well to take an
inventory.  Have a thorough overhaul, you know, and
see what condition everything is in."

The motion was carried.

But it took them three days--if we can call them
days--to complete the survey and restore everything,
in a ship-shape condition, to its place again.

The stores were all not only abundant but excellent,
with the exception of some casks of greens that they
put much store on.  They would now have to depend
upon a daily supply of lime-juice to prevent hands
getting down with the scourge of these seas, namely,
scurvy.

On the very night the survey was ended came
another half-gale of wind from the south.  There were
the same terrible noises all around them, and as far as
they could make out, the sea of ice was a perfect chaos.

No one could shout loud enough for his nearest
companion to hear him, and the crew lived in constant
terror of the ship being crushed.

When at long last the storm ceased, they discovered
by the starlight, and very much to their delight, that
the terrible neighbours, those monster bergs, had
shifted their site during the gale.

They had, in fact, driven past the vessel's
bows--what a mercy they came not near!--and were now
fully seventy yards down to leeward.

The wind had fallen quite, and all had become still
again.

"We have reason to be thankful to God for our
marvellous escape," said Talbot.

"But may not the bergs drift back, or be blown
down upon us?" said Frank, who was of a very
inquiring turn of mind.

"Wherever they drift, Frank, we too shall drift,
but the send of the current or sea beneath us is, I
believe, northward now; and if the wind blows in
winter as it must in spring, it will bear us towards
the north-west.  So one danger is removed or minimized."

"Hurrah!" cried Frank, who was nothing if not
impulsive, "hurrah!"

"No chance, I suppose, sir," he said, "of getting any
letters from home?"

"Not for a day or two, Frank," said Talbot, smiling.

"Well, but it is a good thing we have books to read,
isn't it, Conal?"

"And pens and ink?"

"Yes, pens and ink, and my fiddle."

"And my bagpipes," said Duncan emphatically.

"Oh, Duncan, we hadn't forgotten that or these."

"When I get them over my shoulder," said Duncan,
"and put my drones in order, I don't think there will
be much chance of your forgetting them."

Now wild winter had come in earnest,

   |   "To rule the varied year".

It did not seem, however, that there was going to be
a great deal of variety about it.

The wind was gone entirely for the time being, and
the strange stars and Southern Cross shone down on
the snowy and radiant plain, with a brilliancy that is
quite unknown in more northern climes.

Great care was taken to keep the correct time, and
to take observations three times a day.

A big ice-hole was made a few yards to the port
side of the ship, and although the frost was now very
severe indeed, they made a point of keeping this clear.
This hole was about six feet in width, and, later on,
it sufficed not only to draw water from for various
purposes, but to afford some sport, as we shall
presently see.

It had another and more scientific use.  For the
temperature of the water could here be taken, not
only on the surface but many measured fathoms
below it, and it told also the trend of the currents and
their strength as well.

The self-same hours for breakfast, dinner, and
supper were adhered to, but the men now had an
additional allowance of tea served out to them, which,
on the whole, they preferred to grog.

Grog, they knew from experience, did not keep up
the animal heat, though it seemed to for a brief spell.
Then shivering succeeded.

As the spectioneer told Duncan, in a climate like
this one doesn't quite appreciate buckets of cold water
running down his back.

Tea time was a happy hour in the saloon.  The
duties of the day were practically over, and light
though these may have been, each had its correct
time, and nothing was neglected.

But now the talk was chiefly about home; all
thoughts of making fortunes were banished as not in
keeping with the calmness of the hour.

Cowper's cosy lines come to my memory as I write,
and they are in some measure applicable to the
tea-time hour and situation--

   |   "Now stir the fire, and close the shutters fast;
   |   Let fall the curtains, wheel the sofa round,
   |   And while the bubbling and loudly hissing urn
   |   Throws up a steamy column, and the cups
   |   That cheer but not inebriate, wait on each,
   |   Let us welcome peaceful evening in".

.. vspace:: 2

Johnnie Shingles it was who assisted the steward
in serving out the tea, and Johnnie looked out for his
own share in the pantry when all the rest were done.




.. _`a chaos of rolling and dashing ice`:

CHAPTER XIII.--A CHAOS OF ROLLING AND DASHING ICE.
==================================================

Being myself, reader, an "ice man" of some
considerable experience, the manner in which the
officers and crew of the beleaguered craft *Flora
M'Vayne* whiled away the time during their long
winter imprisonment may be said to be painted from
the life.

At first it was supposed that the want of light
would be a drawback to enjoyment, but the steward
was one of those men who can turn their hands to
anything, and he proposed making purser's dips from
the spare fat.

He had to manufacture the wicks from cotton
refuse, but, this accomplished, the rest was simple
enough.

Petroleum was burned only in the saloon, and it was
stored in a hold right beneath this for greater safety.

They had to be saving in the use thereof, however,
and as they could talk as well, if not better, by the
flickering light of the fire, the lamp was always
turned out when no one cared to read.  But around
the galley fire those purser's dips were a great comfort
to the men when not yarning.  For then one man was
told off to read while the others sat around to smoke
and listen.

And thus passed many a quiet and peaceful evening away.

The men, I am happy to say, did not seem to
hanker after grog, and it was finally agreed by all
hands that it would be better to keep it for what they
were pleased to call the spring fishery, or as a
stand-by in case of illness.

They had plenty of tea and coffee, however, and a
daily allowance of lime-juice.

Then Saturday nights were kept up in quite the
old-fashioned and pleasant way, and the main-brace
was invariably spliced.

Song succeeded song on these happy occasions, and
many a toast was drunk to the health of the dear
ones far away on Britain's shore.

Nor was dancing neglected, the consequence being
that fiddle, guitar, and clarionet were in great request.
As usual, little Johnnie Shingles and that droll
penguin, dressed as a merry old lady, or sometimes as a
modest wee maiden of sweet sixteen, convulsed the
onlookers with their droll antics as they sailed around
in the mazy dance.

But the monkey one evening did not see why he
should not also have a waltz with Madam Pen.

"Yah--yah--yah!" he cried, as he approached her
most coaxingly.

This was much as to say: "It is our dance, I believe, miss."

He attempted to take hold of Pen's flippers in the
meanwhile, and was rewarded with a dig between the
eyes that sent him reeling back, and so Jim made no
more offers to trip it on the light fantastic toe with
Madam Pen, on this evening or any other.  In fact,
he used to content himself with lying in front of the
fire with one of Vike's huge paws round his neck.

When Pen pecked the monkey he made an ugly
scar, but poor kind-hearted Vike licked it every day
several times with his soft warm tongue, and so it
soon healed up.

----

Frank was by no means a very ambitious boy; he
had not very much of the Scottish dash and go about
him, and would at any time have preferred not doing
to-day what could be just as easily done to-morrow,
but he was clever for all that.

He it was who first attempted fishing in the
ice-hole.  But the ship had been imprisoned for
well-nigh six weeks before he thought of it.  The fact is,
that by this time many of the men began to ail, and
a peculiar kind of lassitude, dulness, and lowness of
spirits were the first symptoms they complained of.
Spots then appeared on the skin, every muscle ached
when they moved.  They suffered greatly from cold,
and even their countenances grew worn and dusky.

The awful truth soon flashed upon Talbot's mind:
these men were attacked by scurvy.

No less than three grew rapidly worse, and died
one after the other--in spite of all that could be done
for them.  It was sad to listen to their last ravings
and hear them speaking as if to friends at home; to a
wife, a sister, or mayhap a sweetheart.  Ah! but this
was only when they were very near to the end.

A hammock had soon to be requisitioned after this,
and the poor fellows were laid to rest many yards
distant from the ship in a cold, icy grave.

Prayers were said over each, and there they will
sleep probably for ever and for aye.  For those buried
thus never know decay till the ice around them may
melt millions of years hence.

No medicine on board had any effect, and five in all
were buried before the plague was stayed.  It had
been brought on, without doubt, from the want of
fresh provisions, so Frank's idea of fishing adown the
ice-hole was really a happy thought.  For a whole
day, however, like the apostle of old, he fished, but
caught nothing.  But on the day after he hooked a
ray, and then a bonito.

From that very time fishing became a sport in
which all the boys took part--and the plague soon
left the ship.

Sorrowful indeed was Talbot at the loss of his men,
still, grief is but transient on board ship.  In a case
like the present it would not do for it to be otherwise,
for nothing is more depressing.

Moreover, the captain came now to the conclusion
that the men had not enough exercise, so he proceeded
at once to put into execution a plan that would meet
the requirements of the case.

He instituted games on the ice.

Games in the dark!  Is that your remark, reader?

But it was very far indeed from being dark.  There
was at the present time a moon, though it was at no
great height above the horizon.  Well, moonlight does
not last long anyhow, but the bright beams from the
star-studded heavens were far better than the moon
at its best, and almost dimmed its splendour.

The sky was wondrously clear, and the stars seemed
very large.  So close aboard, too, did they appear to
be that you might have thought it possible to touch
them with a fishing-rod.

There are probably no games so invigorating as
those called Scottish, or more properly Highland.
They tend to the expansion of the chest and to the
bracing and strengthening of every muscle in the body.

So hammer-throwing, weight-putting, leaping, and
tossing the caber soon became the rule every forenoon.
Then in the afternoon, and before tea, Highland
dancing was the rage.

This is dancing in every sense of the word.  Quadrilles
are only fit for old folks, and waltzing--well,
it is nice enough in a brilliantly-lit hall, with soft
dreamy music and a brilliant partner, but, after all, it
is only just wiping your feet and whirling round.

A broad sheet of wood was spread on the ice near
the ship for Highland dancing, quite a large platform
in fact.

And Duncan, like Auld Nick in Burns's masterpiece,
*Tam o' Shanter*,

   |   "Screwed his pipes and gart them skirl
   |   Till roof and rafters a' did dirl."
   |     \*   \*   \*   \*   \*
   |   Nae cotillion brent new frae France,
   |   But hornpipes, jigs, strathspeys, and reels,
   |   Put life and mettle in their heels."

.. vspace:: 2

But these were not the only amusements the crew
went in for, on the snow-clad ice, for while Conal and
Frank were one day visiting those great bergs, the
inventive genius of the latter was once more shown.

They found that a great portion of one side of the
biggest berg was quite on the slope, and covered with
frozen snow.

"Hurrah!" cried Frank, "I've got another."

"Another what?"

"Why, another idea.  This iceberg is just suited for
tobogganing."

"Now," he added, "we sha'n't say a word to
anybody till we try it ourselves first."

They, however, took the carpenter into their
confidence, and he made them tiny sledges to sit upon.
The slide was on a pretty gradual slope and altogether
was about a hundred yards long from the top.  Steps
were cut at one side to make the getting up easy, and
Frank himself was the first to make the descent.

"It is simply glorious!"  This was his report.

"Flying," he added, "isn't in it."

And Conal himself confirmed this statement as soon
as he himself had gone rushing down.

After this the great toboggan slide was in daily
request, and the sound that came from the big berg
was like the roaring of stones on a Scottish curling
pond.

But high above the rushing noise, came the shouting
and laughter of the merry-makers.

Poor Viking could not understand it, and I suppose
he came to the conclusion that his human friends had
all lost hold of the tiny supply of common-sense, which
human beings can boast of.

But what with these games and dances, and then
fun on board, the health of the crew continued
excellent, though ever around the galley-fire at night (I
mean before bed-time or at the tea hour) the men
talked of home.

I myself, like most seafarers,--well, call us sailors
if that sounds better,--dearly love

   |   "A life on the ocean wave
   |     And a home on the rolling deep,
   |   Where the scattered waters rave
   |     And the winds their revels keep".

Yet wherever in this world I have been there always
seemed to be a magnetic needle in my heart, and it
always pointed to Home.

   |   "Where'er we roam, whatever lands we see
   |   Our hearts untramelled fondly turn to thee
   |     \*   \*   \*   \*   \*
   |   Such is the patriot's boast; where'er we roam,
   |   Our first, best country, ever is at home."

.. vspace:: 2

On the whole, during their long imprisonment, the
officers and crew of the good barque *Flora M'Vayne*
kept up their hearts.

At long last the sun came nearer and nearer the
northern horizon.  For days before he rose there was
a twilight of about two hours.  Then a galaxy of the
loveliest clouds were lit up, but still no sun.

Before noon on the day after, however, Frank and
Conal, who seemed now to be inseparable, climbed to
the top of the tobogganing berg, and soon after caught
a glimpse of the glorious sun.

Neither could speak for a time, and indeed tears
were trickling down Frank's face, which he took no
trouble to hide.  For, as we have seen before, he was
a very impressionable lad.

"Oh, the sun! the sun!"  That was all he said, but
next minute both were waving their hats to those on
board and shouting:

"The sun! the sun!"

And such a cheer uprose from that long-imprisoned
ship, as never before probably was heard in these
southern regions of perpetual snow and ice.

High above all, the boys could hear the barking of
noble Vike.

Yes, but a moment after, and high above even that,
across the intervening ice came the wild skirl of
Duncan's Highland bagpipe.

Duncan was playing the March of the Cameron
Men as he walked boldly up and down in the waist of
the ship, while Frank and Conal on the ice-block
could not help chiming in with just one verse of that
brave old song, which has thrilled so many a heart on
bank or brae or battlefield:

   |   "Ah! proudly they march, though each Cameron knows
   |     He may tread on the heather no more,
   |   Yet boldly he follows his chief to the field
   |     Where his laurels were gathered before".

.. vspace:: 2

"Yes, Frank, but we shall tread the heather again,
sha'n't we, friend?"

"I hope so, and I mean to have a good try anyhow,"
was Frank's hearty reply.

----

Their dangers, however, were not all over yet.
Not by a deal.  In a still ice-pack like that in which
they had lain so long, there is not very much to be
feared except the danger of a nip or jam.  But when
the ice begins to open and the wind begins to blow,
ah! then toil and trouble commence in earnest.

From observations, Captain Talbot now discovered
that the immense field of ice on which they had been
lying, had been gradually forcing its way on the current
almost directly north, and that even Mount Sabine
and the Admiralty Mountains were now a long way
astern to the west.

And soon now the wind began to blow and howl;
almost half a gale from the south-east by east.  The
noise, as it roared through the rigging and bare poles,
was almost deafening, but this did not prevent these
brave mariners from hearing every now and then the
loud explosions on the ice-pack that heralded the
breaking up of the whole, and that had been but a
day or two ago a vast plain strong enough to have
reviewed all the artillery in the world upon, would
soon be but a chaos of rolling, dashing ice.  The storm
continued for more than a week, and all that time--every
hour, in fact--the *Flora M'Vayne* had been in
peril and danger.

Gallant ship!  How well she stood the squeezing,
the cannonading, the battering!  A vessel less strong
in every timber, or one built of teak instead of
Scottish oak would have collapsed and gone down in
a few minutes, carrying the crew with her, or leaving
them almost naked, hungry, and helpless on the pack,
to die a death ten times more cruel than drowning.

She got perilously near to the shore at last, however.
It must have been somewhere close to Yule or Robertson
Bay, for Cape Adare had been left a long way astern.

They were close enough to see that certain destruction
awaited them if unable to change their position.
The pancake and bay ice was piled along the rugged
shore, hills high, one piece above another, by the
terrible force of wind and current.

When soundings were taken, and it was found that
there was but little depth of water to spare, and that
even this was gradually lessening, then both Morgan
and the skipper became alarmed.

"We must set sail," said the latter, "and try to
bring her up a few points, or, depend upon it, our risky
voyage will come to a sudden end."

All hands were called.




.. _`"heave, and she goes!  hurrah!"`:

CHAPTER XIV.--"HEAVE, AND SHE GOES!  HURRAH!"
=============================================

"All hands on deck!  Tumble up, my lads!  Tumble up!"

The men needed no second bidding.  They did
tumble up, every man Jack of them, as merrily as if
marriage-bells had called them.

"All hands unship rudder!"

That was the next order.  For there was great
danger of this being dashed to pieces by the cruel ice.

The rudder was about the only vulnerable portion
of the ship indeed.

Two whole hours were spent at this work, for the
men, unlike those who sail to Arctic regions, had never
been drilled to such work.

The short day had almost worn to a close before the
job was finished.

But sail was now got on her, and by means of long
poles, twenty men overboard on the ice managed not
only to clear the way for her by shoving the pieces to
one side, but also to steer the vessel, by keeping her
head in the right direction.

Frank was sent to the foretop-gallant masthead to
see if he could, by aid of the telescope, descry water to
the nor'ards.

The sun was almost setting in the north-west, and
there was plenty of light, but no water was visible,
only the great white ocean of snow-clad ice, all in
motion.

The scene was indeed a strange and impressive one,
and after shouting down that there was no open water
anywhere in sight, Frank stayed in the cross-trees for
quite a long time, hardly ever feeling the cold, so
interested was he in all he saw around him.

One thing, however, was evident, namely, that the
huge iceberg on which they had spent so many merry
hours tobogganing was fast aground down to leeward
of them.

The ship passed it slowly.

"Good-bye, old chap," Frank could not help saying.
"Sorry we can't take you to England with us, but
can't see our way.  By, by!  See you later on, perhaps."

Then slowly he came below to the deck.

He was happy that it was just tea-time.  The ship
was now considered out of present danger, but watch
after watch must remain on the ice to pole and guide,
perhaps for days to come.

"I want," the skipper said, "to make a good offing,
for I don't half like the look of the land in there, and
should prefer to show it a pair of clean heels, and,
please God, we shall before long."

The tea was very comforting, and in spite of the
noise above of high winds and flapping sails, the saloon
was very jolly and cosy indeed, and Frank was in no
hurry to go on deck again.

"Hullo! what is that?" said Talbot, "someone
tumbled down the companion?"

"Yes," said Conal laughing, "but it is only Old Pen.
He finds that the most expeditious way of getting
below now.  He just throws himself on his back, head
down, and toboggans down the steps."

And a second or two after, Pen appeared in the
doorway, and looked wonderingly at the group assembled
round the fire.

"You all look very snug here," he seemed to say.
"Is there room for poor Old Pen among you?"

"Come along, Pen," said Conal, "we can always
make room for you.  Sit there on your tail beside
Vike, and warm your soles."

"Yah--yah--yah!" cried the monkey, offering Pen
a cockroach in quite a friendly way.  But delicious as
this might be, the bird preferred a bit of tinned salmon.

"Pen," said Duncan, "knows on what side his bread
is buttered."

The bird eyed him knowingly, as, leaning on his
tail, he held one broad foot up to the blaze.

"Pen", he seemed to say, "prefers his bread buttered
on both sides."

It was comparatively late to-night before anyone
thought of retiring.  Moreover, it was Frank's "all
night in", but I do not think he slept a great deal.
There was noise enough on deck, aloft, and around the
bows on the ice to have awakened Rip Van Winkle
himself, but slumber he did at last, though only to
revisit in dreams his native land, and the wild and
lonesome grandeur of romantic Scotland.

Nay, but I ought not to say lonesome, for how could
he feel lonesome with his sweetheart Flora walking by
his side, or darting off every now and then to chase a
butterfly, or cull some rare and beautiful flower.

Ah! he could not help thinking, even in his dreams,
if life were ever ever like this.  Late in the middle
watch he was awakened in a very unceremonious way
indeed.  In fact he was well-nigh pitched clean and
clear out of his bunk.  He wondered what was up,
for there was a more sea-like motion about the ship.
But, sailor-like, he just turned upon his back and went
off to sleep again.

The explanation was simple.  The ship had struck
a very wide lane of open water.  Open to a great
extent that is, for many a dangerous and nasty piece
of green ice battered the sides of the vessel as, glad to
be free, she went dashing through the open water
under all sail that could be safely carried.  Boats, also
under sail, were ahead of her to keep her in the right
course.

But at daybreak the captain himself went aloft, and
noticing that the open water was visible at least a
dozen miles ahead, and that the lane grew wider
towards the north, he had the main-yard hauled aback.
The boats were then hoisted, and all the crew bore a
hand in shipping the rudder once more.

The breeze still held, and a splendid day's record
was made nor was there at night any reason to fear
danger.

The pieces of ice, however, lay about in all directions,
and sometimes three or four appeared ahead, suddenly
too.  As these could not always be avoided, the plan
was to select the largest and steer straight stem-on to
that.  It is better to do so than to be struck on the
broadside by a heavy piece.

But as she sailed through streams of smaller pieces
the noise of the cannonading, as heard down below,
was sometimes quite deafening.

It would have been very nice for all on board had
this lane of water conducted the ship right out into
the open northern ocean.

It did not, however, for by and by the wind fell,
and slowly, but surely, the sides of the great natural
canal came closer and closer together, and finally the
good ship *Flora M'Vayne* was again completely beset,
with no signs of water even from the mast-head.

Only all around was the white and dazzling pack.
For a whole fortnight, or over, the frost continued,
and never a cloud was seen.

One day, however, the active and busy little Frank
Trelawney discovered, from the crow's-nest--a barrel
high up on the main truck--a cloud no bigger than a
man's hand, away down on the southern horizon.

It slowly increased, and before many hours was a
huge and rolling mass of cumulus.

Other clouds also were rolling up, and it was evident
they were bringing the wind with them.

About the same time the temperature rose, but the
glass fell considerably, so that the skipper and Morgan
shook their heads ominously.

"We're going to have a big blow, sir," said the latter.

"That is so, mate, and we are not in a very enviable
situation."

"Listen, sir!"

The mate held up his finger.

There was a succession of loud reports almost
alongside, and the screeching and caterwauling sounds that
followed, showed that the ship was being nipped.

"We're in for it, mate; but she has a nicely-rounded
bottom, and will rise twenty feet rather than be staved in.

"But," he added, "we can't afford to lose our rudder,
so we'll have that unshipped once more."

This was done, and probably only in time, for the
pressure increased every hour.

It was evident now the ship would rise if the ice did
not go clean through her.

She did rise, and that too with a vengeance, for by
next morning she was lying almost on her beam-ends
on the adjoining floe.

The yard-arms had been hauled fore-and-aft, else
they would have touched the snow.

To live on board now was impossible for days and
days to come.

But boats and provisions were landed, and every
preparation made to journey northward over the great
ice-pack, should the ship go down after again righting
herself.

The wind was bitterly cold, even in the poor ship's
lee, but they managed to light fires and to cook, though
it was indeed a wretched time.

Enveloped in rugs, the boys, with Viking, huddled
together at night, but for a long time after lying down
sleep was impossible.  And when slumber did at last
seal their eyes, the dreams they dreamt were far
indeed from pleasant.

But now came a warm and almost pleasant wind
from the north-north-west, and the ice began to open.

Captain Talbot's anxiety was now at its greatest,
for there was water on the starboard side of the ship
and the berg or floe on which she lay.

Ropes were therefore attached to her masts, and all
hands upon the ice bent on to these, pulling slowly
with a long pull and a strong pull.

For more than an hour they made no impression on
the vessel, and it was evident the cargo had shifted
somewhat.

Talbot gave the steward an order to splice the mainbrace.

He countermanded this almost immediately after,
however, for it was now evident the vessel was doing
her best to get righted.

"Pull now, lads!  Pull steadily all!  Heave-oh and
she comes!"

Every hand is laid on the ropes; every nerve is
braced, and the veins start on the men's perspiring
foreheads as they keep up the strain.

Viking barks as if to encourage them.

It is all the poor dog can do.

"Heave and she goes!  Heave and she rips!  Hurrah! lads,
hurrah!"

"She is coming, boys!  Heave-oh, again!  Another
pull does it!  Easy!  Slack off!  Hurrah!"

A wild cheer rent the air as the brave and sturdy
barque slid downwards off the floe and took the water
like a duck or a penguin.

The men and officers paused now to wipe their faces.

Then all hands got on board and manned the pumps.

No, she was safe.  Not a drop of extra water had
she made, or was making.

What a relief!

The sun was already sinking low on the horizon,
and his last beams lit up the great snow plain 'twixt
the ship and sky, as if a canal of crimson blood was
there.

Talbot was happy now.  The recovery of the ship
from her serious position was like a good omen, so, as
soon as everything was got on board, he thought it
high time to splice the main-brace.

And so did the men also.

----

All hands were as merry that night as the winning
team after a football match.

The wind had gone down, but the weather continued
fairly mild, and there was not a sound to be heard on
the pack.

On board, however, there were plenty of sounds--sounds
of mirth and music in the galley.  For Frank
had gone forward with his fiddle, and a dance was the
natural consequence.

Johnnie Shingles, and old mother Pen, were once
more in glorious form, and their dancing brought down
the house, and elicited rounds and rounds of applause.

Then dancing became general.

But the fatigues of the day had been very great, so
that it is no wonder pipes were soon got out, and a
wide and cheerful circle formed about the fire.  Songs
and yarns were now to be the order of the evening, and
although it was not Saturday night it bore a very
strong resemblance to it.

Just one song--written and sung by Frank himself,
was to-night twice encored.  As to its composition I
say nothing, except that everything pleases the
true-born British sailor that has got the ring of the sea
about it.


   |   FRANK'S SONG.

   |   And now, my boys, sit round the fire,
   |     And pass the glasses round;
   |   Our troubles all we'll soon forget
   |     When we are homeward bound.

   |   Ah! many a danger we've defied,
   |     We've weathered many a gale,
   |   Nor stormiest seas, nor grinding ice,
   |     Have ever made us quail!

   |   Though bergs are still about us, boys,
   |     Far north the billows sound,
   |   And we'll welcome every breeze that blows,
   |     When we are homeward bound.

   |   Why should we mourn for pals we've lost,
   |     Or let the tear-drops fall,
   |   They sleep in peace, their sorrows o'er,
   |     Beneath the snow's soft pall.

   |   So crowd around the fire, dear lads,
   |     And pass the glasses round;
   |   Our friends are moored on heavenly shores--
   |     And we are homeward bound.




.. _`the isles of desolation`:

CHAPTER XV.--THE ISLES OF DESOLATION.
=====================================

If to be sailing northwards and east with a spanking
breeze, and the great sea of southern ice in which,
and on which, so many adventures had been had, was
being homeward bound--then were our heroes
homeward bound.

It is a nice thing to sing about anyhow of an
evening around a cheerful fire; but ah! as I've said before
there is many a slip 'twixt the cup and the lip, and
there is nothing certain at sea save the unexpected.

However, bold Captain Talbot had no intentions of
returning to England with what he called only half a
voyage.

"I'm going to do my level best," he told the boys
about a fortnight after they had got clear and away,
"to have a bumper ship, that shall recoup us all for
our outlay, to say nothing of our sufferings."

"And now we're bearing up for Kerguelen, aren't
we?" said Conal.

"That's the place, lad; and I'm a Dutchman if we
don't find the elephant-seals there in countless thousands."

"And when we fill up, what then?"

"O, that question I was considering last night in
bed, and I've concluded we had better leave our cargo
at the Cape.  We can sell well there at present, for
oil is much needed.  Then we shall clean ship
thoroughly, and sail northwards by the Indian Ocean,
picking up a cargo at the Cape, at Zanzibar, and
wherever else we can find it.  We can't go wrong."

"And back home through the Suez Canal.  Is that
your idea, sir?" said the mate.

"You've hit it completely, Morgan."

"You must remember," he continued after a pause,
during which he had been watching the smoke that
curled from his lips towards the roof of the saloon,
"that I look upon this only as an experimental voyage,
and as such it hasn't proved altogether a failure.  We
shall clear our feet and pay our way, boys; and our
adventures will be the theme of many a lecture when
at last we reach the old country.

"And not that only, for our success will enable us
to float a good company for sealing and steam-whaling
in the Antarctic seas.  You see, boys, I've been north
and south.  I've been what you well may term from
pole to pole.  Well, my opinion is, that although the
Arctic lies handier to our own doors than the Antarctic,
still it is almost played out.  They have been going it
among the baby seals a trifle too fast, and have given
them no close season, so though I don't say they've
killed them nearly all off, still they have scared them
pretty considerably, and the modern Arctic seal isn't
the innocent confiding creature he was in the days of
my boyhood.  No, he has got far more wary, and so
packs of them are more difficult to find than formerly.

"And as for Right whales, well, they are far wiser
than we have any idea of.  Their kingdom is a
boundless one.  It is the ocean wild and wide, and if they
cannot have peace to gather in schools, and enjoy
their little parties in the north, why, they are free to
come to the Antarctic.  And that is just what they
have done.

"Well, lads, we shall do something in it, be assured.
But we've got to have steam.  Strong screw steamers
with all appliances to repair damages of every kind;
and steam ice-hammers as well.  You've thrown in
your lot with me, boys, and my name isn't Talbot if I
don't help you to make a good thing of it."

"The Antarctic is very far away from England,"
said Frank thoughtfully.

"There you're right, lad.  You are thinking of the
expense?"

"Yes."

"Ah! but our company will not bring their ships
home to Britain.  No, they will cruise from the
Antarctic to the very nearest markets--in Australia, for
instance.  And so it will pay.  For should we lose a
ship or two, well, the insurance companies must pay
that, and they are well able to.

"So that is my scheme, boys, and, on the whole, I
don't think it is a bad one.  There are so few ways of
making fortunes nowadays that when one gets the
ball at his foot, he is a fool if he does not hit it as
hard as he knows how to."

----

The voyage to the Kerguelen islands was a very
propitious one, and every one on board the sturdy
*Flora M'Vayne* was as happy as the day was long.
Vike seemed to have got a new lease of life, and
wallowed in the sunshine.

"It is such a change, you know," he told Conal,
"and I believe we'll soon be back once more in bonnie
Scotland, and won't I tear around the hills just!"

The monkey was less melancholy now, and the
cough which troubled him so much while in the ice,
appeared to have quite gone.

And old Pen seemed to be almost beside himself
with delight.  He used to go tearing along the
decks, flapping his wings and shrieking as if
possessed, and even in his calmer moods he would
sometimes leap up suddenly and practise waltzing all
alone.

There was a delightful breeze nearly all the time.
If not astern it was a beam wind, and so the *Flora*
went ripping through the dark-blue seas, every wave
of which sparkled in the sunshine.

Many whales were seen, but as Talbot depended
most on getting among the elephants now, boats were
never lowered to go whaling.

Frank spent much of his time in the crow's-nest.

He was not afraid to swing through the sky at that
giddy height, although the first time he clambered up
he believed that the crew would have to lower him
down with block-and-tackle, he was so thoroughly
frightened.

"On deck there!" rang the young fellow's voice one
forenoon from the nest.

"Ay, ay, lad," from the skipper.

"Land in sight!"

"Where away?"

"On the starboard bow."

"And what does it look like?"

"I can only raise some mountain cones.  They seem
volcanic, and their sides are covered with snow."

"Bravo!  Come down and I'll get up myself."

Frank was soon on deck.

"Well done, Frank," said Talbot laughing.  "I
promised a pair of canvas trousers to the man who
should first sight land, and you shall have them."

"Yes, thank you, and I shall wear them too."

Away went the skipper up to the crow's-nest, and
before long came an order to alter the course a point
or two.

Close to the Islands of Desolation, as Kerguelen is
called, it was fully a week before the *Flora M'Vayne*
was able to reach and enter one of the friths or
creeks.  For on the very day on which land was
sighted a fearful hurricane swept down on the ship,
and so suddenly, too, that before sails could be taken
in many were rent into ribbons, that cracked and
rattled with a sound like the independent firing of
troops in action.  There was no standing against wind
of this awful violence, and it was necessary to run
for it under what is termed "bare poles", that is,
the smallest amount of sail that can be carried with
steering power.

But Kerguelen is the region of hurricanes, and few
ships that visit these wild shores escape with impunity.

The coast of the chief islands was found to be
iron-bound, high, barren, and rocky, but when they entered
and sailed along one of the creeks, scenery of quite a
different kind was met with.

It would be difficult indeed to exaggerate the
strange, wild, but solitary beauty of this scenery.
Solitary, that is, as regards sight or sign of human being.

But bird life was in evidence everywhere; in fact,
Kerguelen might be called the home of the sea-birds.
They have seen but little of man, however, and know
nothing of his evil or demoniacal ways.  They look
upon him only as a curious kind of biped, of the
penguin species, but without feathers.

Well, when Duncan or Frank went on shore for a
walk with the skipper, the gulls, the petrels, the
penguins, the albatrosses, and cormorants flew around
them in thousands, and the din they made was almost
deafening.

Nor were our heroes free altogether from their
attentions, which sometimes were rather of an
objectionable character, especially when students of nature
in the shape of huge yellow-cheeked penguins waddled
up to the place where they were sitting, and began
examining their jackets with the greatest curiosity.
Pecking holes in them, too, and pulling at them.

When rudely thrust off they would retire but a
little way, and stand watching the boys with great
interest.

"Well, I never!" they seemed to say, looking at
them from one side of their heads.

"Well, I'm gee-whizzled!" gazing at them with the other.

"Penguins, aren't you?  But the ugliest lot ever
we saw.  We really wonder your mothers allow you
go about like that!"

To-day Captain Talbot and his boys went exploring,
but a man was with them to carry the game they
killed, and these consisted chiefly of ducks and rabbits.
The former showed no fear, but the latter scurried
away at once.

They journeyed far inland, and made many interesting
discoveries, which proved that these islands are
not so utterly useless as they are supposed to be.
Indeed, they could be worked profitably both for coals
and oil.

And Talbot made a general survey of the regions
traversed and took ample notes.

"This would make an excellent centre for our great
Antarctic whaling and sealing expedition," he said.
"And you and I, boys, might build ourselves a house
just under the shelter of these green lichen-clad rocks
yonder."

"Oh, it would be awfully nice!" cried Frank.

"And couldn't we have a garden?"

"Yes, and plant and grow crops."

"And trees?"

"Yes, again, and if we are spared to come back
here we shall bring with us a few hundreds of young
pine-trees--Scotch, and spruce--and plenty of seed."

"How delightful!  I should like so much to be a
Crusoe.  But listen!  Surely that was a dog barking
high up the hill yonder."

And so it was, for next moment down came Vike
with a rabbit in his mouth.

"Why, Vike," cried Duncan, "we left you on board."

"Very likely," said Vike, speaking with his tail and
eyes as he lay there panting from his exertions, with
about two yards--more or less--of pink tongue
hanging out over his alabaster teeth.  "Very likely,
but five hundred yards of a swim isn't much to a dog
like me.  And what is more.  Wowff, wowff! you had
no business to bolt away without me.  Wowff!
Don't do it again!"

"Well, now," said Talbot to his mate next day at
breakfast, "what do you say to stay here till we lay
in a real good cargo, for outside the elephants are in
thousands, and the poor things have young beside
them too."

"The idea is excellent, sir," said Morgan, "and I
have another."

"Out with it, mate.  We can't have too many ideas
in this world, if we mean to be successful.  These
ideas of ours don't all hold water; but then we can go
over them at our leisure and pick out the best."

"That's it, sir.  Well, why not get all the skins we
can procure, and then make off the oil.  Coals are
plentiful on shore, and we have cauldrons, you know."

"Bravo!  Morgan.  That is just what we shall do."

So after breakfast boats were called away, and
returned in the evening laden to the gunwales.

So the vessel was shifted nearer to the open sea,
and thus the whalers could go and return twice or
even thrice in one day with their hauls.

It was no easy work, you may well believe, when I
tell you that the skin and blubber of one of these
huge sea-elephants sometimes weighed eight hundred-weight.

Poor, great, innocent brutes, it did seem a shame to
kill their young before their eyes!  The sight of the
blood made mothers and fathers frantic, and they
rushed on shore as if bent on revenge, but only to fall
victims to the rifles of the gunners.

It was a bloody and terrible scene, and I have no
desire to describe it.  Indeed, were I to tell the reader
one quarter of the cruelties I have seen enacted by
sealers, I should so harrow his feelings that his dreams
would not be pleasant for one night afterwards.

Not merely for a fortnight, but for more than three
weeks did the *Flora* lie at Kerguelen, but in a
sheltered cove, so that the hurricanes, that on four
or five different occasions swept down from the mountains
with terrific violence, had but little effect on her.
By this time they had boiled down all their oil,
salted all their skins and tanked them, and were in
reality a bumper ship.

I must not forget one little incident that took place
about a week after their arrival.

One day that extremely wise and wondrous bird,
Old Pen, went hopping down the starboard gangway
and leapt into the sea.

Vike, who had been observing him, sprang right
off the bulwark and tried most energetically to head
him off.

The bird and dog met face to face, and it really
seemed as if a conversation somewhat as follows took
place.

Old Pen: "Hullo, what's your game?"

Viking: "I'm going to rush you back to your ship."

O. P.: "Your grandmother!  I won't be rushed.  I
can swim better than you, and dive like a fish-hawk.
So don't let us quarrel.  In spring, you know, a young
man's fancy lightly turns to thoughts of love.  I've
got an appointment on shore here.  Ta, ta!  Be as
good's ye can."

Vike: "But I say, Old Pen--"

Old Pen had dived and was out of sight, and so
Vike swam sadly back to the ship once more.

Just a few hours, however, before the anchor was
got up, and while the crew were busy shaking out the
sails before departing for the far west, something
between a squawk and a squeal was heard alongside,
and, sure enough, there was Old Pen come back again.

He was assisted on board, and shook himself as
unconcernedly as if nothing unusual had happened.

But Viking's delight knew no bounds, nor did that
of little Johnnie Shingles.  The former went tearing
round and round the deck, like a hairy hurricane.

"If I don't allay my feelings thus," cried Vike, "I
shall go clean off my chump."

Now it happened that Frank was on deck with his
fiddle, ready to play to the men as they got up the
anchor.

But, seeing how matters stood, he instantly struck
up a lively schottische.

"Squawk--s--squaw--awk!" cried Old Pen, waving
his flippers.

"Hurray!" cried Johnnie, and next moment he and
his strange partner were whirling round and round
on the quarter-deck, in one of the maddest, merriest
dances that surely ever yet was seen.

And I don't believe there was a soul on board who
was not rejoiced that Old Pen had returned once again.

That evening they were far away on the quiet and
lonesome sea, and, standing by the fire in the saloon
warming his flat feet, one by one, as usual, was Old
Pen, while near him, sound asleep, lay Vike.

"Awfully good of the bird to come off in time,
wasn't it, boys?" said the skipper, relighting his pipe.
"If he hadn't come back I should have believed I was
about to be deserted by all my good fortune.

"We are glad to see you, Pen, and hope you'll never
leave us again.  But what put it into your silly noddle
to go away at all, Pen?"

Pen made two hops of the space between him and
the captain.  Then leaning his head on his knee he
looked up drolly with one eye--which being
half-closed gave him the appearance of winking.

"I did think of getting spliced, you know," he seemed
to say, "and more than one lovely Lady Pen asked me
to fly with her to a foreign shore.  Nary a fly," says
I, "not if Pen knows it.  Marriage is a precarious
kind of experiment, so after flirting around for a bit
I remembered my old friends and just floated off
again."

----

Fine weather all the way to the Cape, with
stunsails set 'low and aloft most of the time.

Ah, reader, there isn't much to beat the life a sailor
leads after all!

In foul weather?  Yes, foul or fine, and it isn't
always blowing big guns at sea.

And Jack has no undergrowth of care to curl round
the very roots of his life, and try to swamp him.

If he does his duty--and what real sailor doesn't?--he
may be as happy and jolly as the Prince of Wales,
only a vast deal more so.

Besides, what Jack afloat is there, who has not some
loved one to think of when far away at sea; someone
that he knows right well is thinking, ay, and praying,
for him.  So even in storm and in danger Jack may sing:

   |   "Blow high, blow low, let tempests tear
   |     The main-mast by the board;
   |   My heart with thoughts of thee, my dear,
   |     And love well stored,
   |         Shall brave all danger, scorn all fear.
   |           The roaring winds, the raging sea,
   |             In hopes on shore,
   |             To be once more,
   |           Safe moor'd with thee."

----

The crow's-nest had been taken down, but stride-legs
on the foretop-gallant cross-trees sat Frank one
sunny forenoon.  Gently to and fro swings the ship,
the top-masts forming the arc of a great circle.  But
Frank minds not the motion.

He is an ancient mariner now.

Or he thinks he is.

"On deck there!"

It is a shout which is half hysterical with joy.

"Land on the lee-bow.  The Cape, sir!  The Cape!"

Then a cheer rises up from far below that makes
the very sails shiver.

Vike starts up and barks, and taking this for an
invitation to dance, Old Pen with a squawk and a
squeal springs up, and next minute Johnnie Shingles
and he are wheeling round in fine style on the quarter-deck.

"Land!  Land!  Land!"  And, for a time at least,
the dangers of the deep are past.




.. _`shipwreck on a lonely isle`:

.. class:: center large

  BOOK III.

  IN THE LAND OF THE NUGGET AND DIAMOND.

.. vspace:: 3

CHAPTER I.--SHIPWRECK ON A LONELY ISLE.
=======================================

This book opens amidst scenery far different indeed
from that which I had to describe in my last.

I should like the reader to bear in mind that my
youthful heroes were very far indeed from being
mercenary, and were just at that age, when wild
adventure appeals to the heart of a young fellow who
has any spark of manhood in his composition.

Certainly they had sailed in search of fortune, but
it was not on their own account they were seeking
for wealth, as I have endeavoured to show.

Well, even already, they had been fairly fortunate.
They had not buried their talents in the earth, nor in
the ocean either, and at the Cape of Good Hope their
cargo brought them in so much, that the fortunes of
all who had a share in the ship was not only doubled
but tripled.

They had, immediately after clearing out, employed
a gang of heathens, as Morgan always called people
with dark skins, to thoroughly scour and disinfect the
ship.  They had been employed for days at the work,
under the lash of a ganger, the ganger himself being
under the watchful eye of Morgan the first mate.

And so the work was perfectly done.

Then fresh and cleanly cargo was laid in, which
would doubtless fetch a big price in the London
market.  This consisted of wool, firmly bound and
packed into small compass; ostrich feathers, and wine,
to say nothing of curios.  They did not quite fill up,
however, hoping to make even better bargains up the
coast.

And so they did, especially as regards ostrich
feathers, gum copal, pepper, nutmegs and arrow-root.

They called at Zanzibar, one of the strangest cities
on earth, and here, while the *Flora M'Vayne* lay
quietly at anchor in the beautiful open roadstead,
where floated ships bearing the ensigns of at least half
a dozen different nations, the boys went on shore,
taking Vike with them, and enjoyed most thoroughly
not only rambles through the crowded streets, but out
in the beautiful bush, where they could revel in the
rarest and most delicious fruits the world can grow.

I need but mention mangoes, guavas, and cocoa-nuts,
to say nothing of huge pine-apples, with the tropical
sun-tints on their rough but shining rinds, and
perfume as sweet even as their luscious taste and flavour.

But here were no wild adventures, so that the
lads were not sorry when the anchor was once more
weighed, and the ship far away on the heaving sea.

It was the captain's intention to be towed through
the canal, but lo! and alas! from the very first day of
their leaving Zanzibar misfortune attended them.

One of these terrible circular storms, all too common
in the Indian Ocean, and called typhoons, came roaring
down upon them with scarcely a minute's warning.

The higher sails were blown into ribbons, the
topgallant masts carried away, and the gallant ship
thrown so much on her beam-ends, that the water
came over the lee rails.

She righted again, it is true.  And speedily too; and
now like some living frightened creature she literally
flew before the fearful storm.

As speedily as possible the sails that were not split
were taken in.  This was a very dangerous employment,
and one poor fellow was blown off the yardarm.

Nicholson was his name, and he was a powerful
swimmer, but useful though this art of swimming is,
what could it avail him in a sea like that!

For just a moment or two his brave and handsome
face was seen among the surf in the wake.

He waved his hand once, as if bidding his comrades
all adieu, then sank to rise no more.

As a rule, circular storms do not last for a very long
time, and a good sailor like Talbot knows how to
manoeuvre his ship so as to get clear as speedily as
possible; but this typhoon ended in a gale, which in
force was quite a hurricane.

And this kept on for several days.

The last night was the worst.  About six o'clock in
the evening the sun went down in a brassy haze,
behind the foam-crested turmoil of waves; and the
wind seemed still on the increase.

Not a star to-night.

It was pitchy dark, for the horizon was close
aboard of the storm-tormented ship, and the clouds
may have been half a mile in depth.  There were two
men at the wheel, and those who had to keep watch
were fain to lash themselves to rigging or shrouds.

But keeping watch is here but a figure of speech.
What watch could be kept in a dark so dark?  There
was no thunder that could be heard, but the occasional
flashes of lightning that dazzled the eyes one moment
only rendered the darkness more intense the next.

It must have been about four bells in the first
watch, and those in the saloon were trying to obtain
a kind of scrambling supper.  Old Pen had come aft,
and Vike was here too.  Both knew that to-night
there was danger on the deep.

Suddenly there came a shout from those on deck,
this was followed by a crashing sound like the
splintering of masts, a loud grating noise, and then all
motion ceased.

"We are doomed, boys, but we must still continue
to have faith in our heavenly Father."

"Do you think, sir," faltered Frank, "that--that we
are wrecked?"

"We are driven on shore, lad, but where, it is
impossible to say."

The ship was already battened down, so that, although
the seas were making a clean breach over her, there
was no immediate danger.

The mate found his way below.

His oil-skins were glittering with water, and his
red face dripping too.

He shook the drops from his brown beard and sat
down, with a strange uneasy kind of smile on his face.

"Not much to be done, is there, Morgan?"

"Nothing," replied the mate.  "Seems to me we've
just got to sit here and wait for death."

"Is that the view you take?"

A terrible wave at that moment dashed over the
vessel, shaking her from stern to stem.

"Hark, sir!  Isn't that the view you take?"

"While there is life there is hope, my friend."

The mate laughed half scornfully.

"There won't be much of either half an hour after
this," he said solemnly.

The captain now essayed to go on deck.  He
ventured forward only a step or two.  To have come
farther would have been sheer madness.

Morgan was right.  They had only to wait for
death.

Wait and pray, however.

Ah, yes! for God the Lord is everywhere, on sea as
well as on the dry land, and prayer is never denied us.

Morgan's half-hour was past, and another to that;
still the sturdy ship gave no signs of breaking up.

On the contrary, the wind had gone down considerably,
and the seas as well.

"Mate," said Talbot.

"Yes, sir."

"Are the men below?"

"Three, I think, were washed away; the rest are
all in the galley or half-deck."

"It is very dreadful.  But we have hope now.  An
hour ago I should not have ventured to serve out
grog, lest in despair some might have broken into the
spirit-hold.  Come with me now, mate, and we will
splice the main-brace.  Come, steward, you know what
is wanted."

It was very difficult even yet to get forward, so
covered was the deck with wreckage.  But they
succeeded at last.

Sad, indeed, was the sight that dawn revealed.

The mizzen-mast alone was left standing, the fore
and main having gone by the board.

The ship herself had been carried by a huge tidal
wave, right in between two high volcanic-looking
rocks, and there so jammed that at low tide it was
perfectly possible to walk under keel.

Jibboom and bowsprit were also smashed, and a
single glance at the ship would have told even a
landsman that she was doomed.

Nor would it be safe even to remain on board, for
at any time she might slide backwards and lie on the
shingle beneath, broadside up.

Talbot was no pessimist.

"Thank God, boys," he said, "that our lives have
been spared."

"Amen!" was said by all around, and that, too, with
both reverence and fervour.

But the wind had fallen almost to a dead calm, and
there was not a sound to be heard except the rustle
of the shingle as it was hurled upon the beach by
each advancing wavelet, and sucked back by the next.

"Now, men," cried the captain, "we'll go to breakfast
at once, and then make all speed to land the cargo
and stores.  This island is evidently uninhabited, and
it may be many a long day, indeed, before we are
discovered and able to get away."

On the shore side, and between the rocks, was a
green bank, and into this the shattered bowsprit had
been thrust.  So that to make a rough bridge from
the fo'c's'le to the shore was a very simple matter.

There were still thirty men left as crew all told of
the unfortunate *Flora*, not to mention Johnnie Shingles,
Viking, and Old Pen, neither of whose names were borne
on the ship's books.

But with such hearty good-will did the men work
that before sunset, not only had they erected a huge
marquee with spare spars, the wreck of the masts and
sails, but had got a very large quantity of the most
valuable stores on shore.

It was a strange island indeed, and evidently of
volcanic origin.  Not very large, probably not six
miles in circumference altogether.  It was well wooded,
though the trees were by no means high, and in the
centre was a beautiful circular lake, in which a lovely
little island-grove seemed to float or to hang.

Work was resumed next day, and the men now set
themselves to build two strong, substantial, living huts,
a big and a smaller, with a rough but dry shed for the
stores and cargo, not forgetting the balloon and the
varied apparatus for inflating it.

It took them a whole week and a day to get
everything snug and comfortable; and all this time it
continued calm.

But never a boat nor dhow was to be seen from the
outlook.  The last was simply a spare spar of
considerable height, with rigging thereto.  It was,
moreover, a flagstaff by day and a beacon by night.  But
I may state at once that this uninhabited isle being
fully two hundred miles from the mainland shore, and
quite out of the way of any kind of commerce, licit or
illicit, there was but small chance of any signal being
seen.

What made the situation more desperate was the
fact that not a boat had been left, all were smashed
and washed away; three having gone before the vessel
struck.

But the greatest misfortune of all was the almost
complete destruction of the donkey-engine, so that it
would be impossible to distil water.

They managed to save enough, however, to last for
fully three weeks with economy, and as Talbot said,
there was no saying what might not occur before then.

This water was carefully stored in casks, placed in
sheltered corners, and raised on stones to defend them
against the ravages of the terrible white ant.

A more terrible scourge than these *Termitidæ*
constitute, it would be difficult to conceive.  What makes
it more serious, is that they work completely concealed--in
galleries, that is.  And so thin is the outer shell
of wood which they leave that their presence is not
suspected until the whole of some structure--and this
may be of any size, from a wine-box to a building,--suddenly
gives way.

These white ants once, to my knowledge, attacked
a library of books which had not been used for some
time.  They were evidently fonder of reading than
the townspeople.  We talk of devouring a favourite
author.  Well, in the case in point these terrible
*Termitidæ* devoured their authors in a far more literal
sense, and fairly ate them up, but they left the
bindings all intact, so that when a volume was pulled out
one day it turned Dead Sea fruit, and fell to dust
in the librarian's hands.  Then, and not till then, was
the whole extent of the mischief discovered.

Our little shipwrecked colony now settled down to
wait and watch.

There was but little else to do.

They lived in hope, however, and day after day
many a straining eye was turned seawards, to seek
for the sail that never appeared, and the last thing at
night which Talbot or the boys did was to walk
around the edges of the cliffs, in the expectation of
seeing some mast-head light.

A fire was ready at a moment's notice to light as a
signal, but alas! it was not required.

They had yet to find out, however, what these ants
were capable of.

It was the water they dreaded most to lose.
Without this they must soon sink and perish.

Just one fearful accident I must here record, though
I have no intention to pile up horrors.

But in the expectation of rain one night a huge
piece of waterproof canvas was spread, or rather hung,
by the four corners between as many trees, hammock
fashion.

The rain did come.

Water from the casks was at this time served out
only in small quantities, so that the poor mariners
were already suffering greatly from thirst.  They
were overjoyed, therefore, to find their great
hammock almost full next morning.

They drank greedily of the apparently pure liquid,
although some averred that it tasted bitter.

Alas! it was poisoned!

For in about half an hour afterwards the men were
suffering the most excruciating agony.

Luckily, none of the officers had partaken of this
water, which must have been poisoned by the copper
or some other chemical, with which the canvas had
been treated, to render it waterproof.

Before night, although Talbot gave everyone emetics
of strong mustard and water, treating them afterwards
with wine and spirits, no fewer than four poor fellows
were dead.  The others got better, but continued weak
and ill for weeks.




.. _`a weary time`:

CHAPTER II.--A WEARY TIME.
==========================

Yes, it was indeed a weary time that succeeded the
alarming news brought one morning to Captain
Talbot.  For when the steward went to draw water
from a cask, he found the wooden tap leaking, and
naturally endeavoured to send it home a little.  At
the very moment he did so the whole collapsed, and
the remains of the ant-eaten staves floated away in
dust or little else.

All the other casks were found to be in the same
condition, so that the mariners had nothing now to
fall back upon except a kind of artificial rain-water
well, which they had found on the surface of a rock,
and this was most carefully covered over to prevent
its evaporation by the rays of the sun.

What a terrible outlook!  And no signs were there
of further rain, not even the tiniest cloud.

Well might they pray for rain now as did the prophet
of old, for if it fell not soon, sad indeed must be
the fate of all.

The captain and first mate now held a consultation,
and that night it was decided that they should
endeavour to build a boat of some kind, and therein sail
for the distant mainland.

Pity it was they had not thought of this sooner, for
in two hours after the decision had been arrived at,
another circular storm arose.  Such storms in the
Indian Ocean are not infrequent, and terrible they are
while they rage.

Rain fell at first and at the latter part of it,
otherwise it was a burning hot wind, that caused one to
choke and gasp for breath.  Nostrils and lips became
dry, the mouth parched, and the eyes were like coals
of fire beneath their lids.

On this occasion the sea rose higher than it had
done before.

A huge ocean bore, that could be seen even in the
uncertain light of the stars, came roaring on towards
the rocks, and the spray dashed high over the camp.

Next morning not a timber of the unfortunate *Flora
M'Vayne* was to be seen.  She had been sucked
backwards with that great tidal wave, and was engulfed
in the deeper water farther out.

As ill-luck would have it, most of the carpenter's
tools had been left on board, for until the storm came
on--when they had to rush on shore for dear life's
sake--the men had been busy cutting out pieces of
plank with which to fashion a boat.

There was not the slightest chance of building such
a thing now, and the water grew scarcer and scarcer.

A raft was then thought of, but in the weakened
condition of the men for want of water it would take
a long time to build.

   |   "There passed a weary time.  Each throat
   |     Was parched, and glazed each eye.
   |   A weary time!  A weary time!
   |     How glazed each weary eye!"

.. vspace:: 2

Once more fell rain.  Once more the little rocky
tank, which was always left exposed at night, was
filled, and once again the men's eyes brightened.

During the gale of wind that had resulted in the
wreck of the *Flora M'Vayne*, the poor monkey had
been washed overboard, but old Pen was still here,
and so, too, was honest Vike.

They had suffered as much from the want of water
as anyone, but to the credit of our heroes be it told,
they received their daily water ration.

Old Pen used to waltz with joy when he had taken
a drink, but Vike was less demonstrative, only he
never failed to lick the hand with loving tongue that
served the water out.

But hope rose higher now.  That water would last
for weeks--would last, perhaps, till water came again.
Hope rose to a pitch of excitement that no one who
has never known shipwreck, or never known what it
is to float a mere hulk upon a breezeless sea, can form
any conception of, when, just as the sun leapt red and
fiery above the main next morning, a steamer was
observed but a few miles away in the west.  God! how
the men rushed to the cliff edge, and how wildly
they waved their arms, their coats, and shouted.
Shouted and shouted until every tongue

   |       "Seemed withered at the root;
   |   And they could not speak, no more than if
   |     They had been choked with soot".

.. vspace:: 2

But all in vain!

The ship passed on.

"They cannot have seen us!  They cannot have seen
us!  Lower the flag to half-mast.  Light the fire; they
will see the smoke."

All this was done.

All this was done in vain.  There was not breeze
enough to float the flag.

The fire, too, was a failure.  No smoke arose, for the
flames licked it up.

No wonder the men gazed after the retreating vessel
with weary, weary eyes.

Oh, cruel, cruel, to desert us so!

This was all anyone could say.

And now Duncan bethought him of the balloon.

Surely there was some hope left in that.

As they sat under the shade of some dwarf and
straggling trees, our three younger heroes, with Captain
Talbot and Morgan, they seriously reviewed the whole
question of their situation.  Not only Duncan, but
even Conal and Frank had become somewhat more
earnest in their manner of late.  Their sufferings had
sobered them.

"Boats, and even a raft, are denied us," said Duncan,
"and ships do not come."

"No," answered Talbot; "and yet some British
cruiser, or even an Arab dhow, is bound to come this
way before very long."

"It is just that which I greatly doubt, sir," said
Morgan.  "We seem to be landed at the back of the
north wind, and out of the way of everything."

"But the balloon," continued Duncan.  "I and
Conal--"

"And I," interrupted the Cockney boy.

"Well, and you if the balloon is strong enough."

"It would carry you all, and a horse besides," said
the skipper with just the ghost of a smile.

"Well, we should ascend until we found a wind to
carry us towards the mainland, where we could
descend and find assistance."

"It is a forlorn hope, Duncan."

"Seems to me, though, that it is our last chance,"
said Morgan.  "The water can't last long.  What if it
rains no more for months.  All that could ever be
found of us in that case would be our skeletons
bleaching in the sun."

"Not so pessimistic, please, Morgan.  I still have
hope in God.  If it be His will to help us we shall be
rescued.  If not, it is our duty to submit."

Truly a brave man was Talbot.

And the merchant-service has many a thousand such,
who, without doubt, will be of infinite service to their
country in our day of direst need--when wild war comes,

   |   "In a fostering power, while Jack puts his trust
   |     As fortune comes--smiling he'll hail her,
   |   Resign'd still, and manly, since what must be must;
   |     And this is the mind of a sailor."

----

Talbot arose at last.

"I cannot go," he said, almost solemnly, after gazing
for over a minute at the blue above and the blue
below, the sky without a cloud, the sea without a
ripple.  "For weal or for woe, boys, I must stay with
my men.  Now am I resigned.  I will pray for you,
lads, and so shall we all."

"But," he added, "serve out some water and a
modicum of wine.  God bless our poor fellows yonder,
for their conduct and discipline have been splendid.
Many men in their hopeless condition would have
broken into the spirit stores and died maudlin drunk,
or murderously mad."

The men quickly came to the call of "All hands!"
and just as quickly Talbot explained the position, and
told them what the three youngsters proposed doing.
The cheer that followed his words was not a lusty one,
but it was very sincere.

And now, though with no nervous haste, the work
of arranging and inflating the balloon was commenced
and for some days steadily proceeded with.

On the third day dark clouds came sweeping down,
and a thunder-storm broke over the island.  What a
God-send!  Somewhat unusual, too, for the time of
year.  Not only was the rocky tank filled with water
and rapidly-melting hail, but many hollows elsewhere,
and every drop was precious.

Compared with Andrée's great Arctic balloon, the
*Hope*, as Talbot's had been named, was quite a baby,
but it was strong enough for anything, and could have
supported and carried far more than they needed for
weeks together.

Long before this, Talbot had instructed his youngsters
in the art of managing a balloon, and now there was
little more for them to learn on this score.

The inflation was completed at last.  The net, a very
strong one, was in its place.  The car attached, and
the splendid ball dragged impatiently at her moorings,
as if longing to soar away into freedom.

Food, arms, ammunition, wine, and water--everything
was in its place, everything secure, yet handy.

Then the last night came.

It was clear and starry, with a bright scimitar of a
new moon in the west.

Duncan slept but little.  His mind was in a whirl
of anxiety.  There were so many things to think about,
and they came cropping up in his mind all in a bunch,
as it were, all demanding explanation at once.

One thing which would grieve him very much was
parting with Vike.  Animals have died of grief many
times and oft ere now, and somehow he felt that he
would never see his favourite dog again.

But lo! about the first news he got next morning
after getting up was that Viking was missing.  He
had evidently wandered away, it was thought, and
tumbled over a cliff.

When the boys went to bathe for the last time that
morning they were almost dumb with grief.

But while returning to camp they met Johnnie
Shingles and Old Pen.

Both were capering with joy.

"Vike he all right, sah, foh true.  Golly, I'se
shaking wid joy all ober."

"And where is he?"

"In the sky-car, sah.  O ees, he dere shuah enuff."

It was true.  Vike evidently knew all about it, and
had taken his seat already.  Booked in advance!

He could not be coaxed out.  But he took his
breakfast when handed to him, and a drop of water
afterwards.

"Boys," said Talbot, "you must take him.  It seems
very strange, but it also seems fate."

"Fate be it, then," said Duncan.

And indeed the poor fellow's mind was greatly
relieved.

----

That very forenoon the great balloon was cast off,
and with blessings and farewells on both sides.
Upward she soared into the clear blue sky, and was soon
seen by those below only as a tiny dark speck, no
larger than a lark.




.. _`children of the sky`:

CHAPTER III.--CHILDREN OF THE SKY.
==================================

I have been down in a diving-bell, and have
traversed or been led through the dark and seemingly
interminable seams of a coal-mine, and felt no very
exaggerated sense of exhilaration in either situation,
but the glad free feeling one has when afloat in a
balloon, and after the first nervous shudder of
trepidation has passed off, is well worth risking life and
limb to experience, and is, moreover, in my opinion, a
proof that man was made and meant for better things
than grovelling on earth like a stranded tadpole
thrown out of its pond by the hands of some idle
school-boy.

It is always the unknown that strikes the greatest
amount of terror into man's soul.  Therefore I claim
for my young heroes the possession of an amount of
courage and pluck, that you shall seldom find in any
other hearts save those of British-born boys.

The balloon ascended with inconceivable rapidity
at first, swaying just a little from side to side, and
causing the inmates to grasp the sides of the car with
some degree of nervous terror.  When, however, they
found that to fall out would be the most unlikely
thing that could happen, they took heart of grace,
and began to laugh and talk.

"Isn't it just too awfully lovely for anything," said
Frank.  "I say, you know, Conal, I'm a sort of sorry
I didn't bring my fiddle."

"It's a fine sensation," said Conal.  "It must be
just like going to heaven."

"Yes"--from Duncan--"but we should have
somebody to meet us when we got on shore there.  But
we don't know where this aërial tour may end."

"Well, we're going high enough anyhow," said
Frank.  "And," he added, "I'm not half so funky as
I thought I'd be.  I've often thought, mind you, that
I'd like the going up in a balloon, 'cause there is plenty
of sky-room, and nothing to knock your head against.
It was the thoughts of alighting on earth again that
always had terrors for me, hitting against poplar-trees
and steeples and such, or spiked on the weather-cock
of a town-hall and left to kick.  But this is glorious,
and I suppose we'll get down all straight."

Duncan held down his hand to Viking, and the
honest dog licked it with his soft tongue.

"It is so good of you to take me, master," he seemed
to say.  "I don't know where in all the world you're
off to, but you're here, and that's good enough for old
Vike."

"I say, Duncan," said Conal, "aren't we taking an
easterly direction?"

Duncan was rated "captain of the car", so all
questions were referred to him.

"It really looks a little like it," was the reply,
"unless the island down yonder, with our dear friends
on it, has broken adrift, and is bound for the mainland."

They could talk lightly, almost joyously now, so
bracing was the air, and so delicious the sensation of
floating through space.

"I say, captain," said Frank, "hadn't we better put
another man to the wheel, and tack and half tack for
a time.  Or suppose we lie to, eh?"

"Providence is at the wheel, Frank, but we're at the
mercy of every breeze that may blow."

They were evidently being driven out to sea, but
there was no help for it.

And so easterwards, ever easterwards, they drifted
for many hours.  The island itself was now but a little
dark dot on the blue, and several other islets had
come into view, and latterly, oh, joy! a steamer.

Evidently on her way to China or Japan!

Could they communicate?

In case of meeting a ship, several tin flagons had
been prepared and ballasted, with letters in them.

The balloon was drifting but slowly now, and
seemed to be on the turn.

Signals were accordingly made, while Conal, with
the telescope, kept the ship's quarter-deck well under
observation.

"Ha!" he cried, "they see us, and are signalling back."

Overboard now were thrown not one flask only, but
three, and each would tell the same story of the
ship-wrecked mariners, dying slowly for want of water on
the lonely island far to the west.  The latitude and
longitude of this was given also.

It was evident that the flasks fell near the ship, for
presently they could see a boat lowered, as if to pick
them up.  It soon returned to the ship and was hauled up.

But for a long time those in the balloon waited in
vain for a signal.  It came at last.  A flag--bright
red--was hoisted to the peak and rapidly lowered again.

Then the ship held on its course.

"Gracious heavens!" cried Duncan excitedly, "they
are leaving our poor friends to their fate."

"I do not believe it possible," said Frank.

"No, it cannot be.  See, see, they have stopped ship."

This was true.  And it was evident also that a
consultation was being held on board, as to whether
they should really alter their course, and seek for the
uninhabited island and perishing mariners or not.

"I know how it is," said Duncan.  "It is, as usual,
a question of money, like everything else in the world.
That is no doubt a mail steamer, and the loss of time
means a heavy fine, even though they might prove
they had been on an errand of mercy."

But to their infinite joy our heroes saw at last the
ship's prow turned westwards.

Night fell now, down on the sea that is.  For at
the great altitude which they had attained the sun
was still visible.

The very last thing they noted was that the captain
of that steamer had apparently changed his mind once
more, and that the vessel was stopped.  There she
lay without or breath or motion

   |   "As idle as a painted ship
   |     Upon a painted ocean".

.. vspace:: 2

"Cruel! cruel!" cried Frank.

"We must not judge," said Duncan.  "Down there
it is now almost dark, and in mercy let us believe they
are merely dodging to await the moonrise.

When day returned, the brave balloonists found
themselves not over the sea any longer, but over a
dense dark forest of Africa's mainland.

During the darkness a strange kind of stupor had
weighed their eyelids down, and every one had slept.

But the balloon had changed its course, and was
now driving inland on the wings of an easterly wind.

By aid of the telescope they could just perceive a
long line of blue 'twixt the sky and the greenery of
the woods.

But this itself soon disappeared as the balloon kept
floating westwards and away.

The last thing they had done was to throw over the
car at intervals, as they swept on, no less than six
tell-tale flasks, and each had a little white flag over it.

But now came the question--what was to be done?
Would it not be better at once to attempt a descent,
and make their way eastwards through the forests
and across the streams, which they could see here and
there like silver strips among the woods and hills.

It was a question that needed some little consideration.

To alight in a forest did not seem feasible.  Here,
to say nothing of the danger of such a descent, they
could find no natives to help them, and they should
be exposed to the attacks of wild beasts and venomous
reptiles.

They could see mountains far ahead, and among
these there would doubtless be many an inhabited
glen; so they agreed to keep on for a few hours longer.

"Besides," said Duncan, "there is a chance of a
change of wind, which will blow us coastwards far
more quickly than we could ever get on foot."

All hands were hungry, so breakfast would be a
most enjoyable pastime.

Something more than a pastime, however.  They
settled down to it seriously, poor Viking standing up
to receive his share.

Breakfast in a balloon--how strange it seems!

What did they have to eat?  Enough and to spare,
but, saving the biscuits--a considerable percentage of
which was weevils fresh and alive--all else was tinned
meat.

They made a hearty meal nevertheless, washing it
down with a modicum of wine and water.

They were now ready for further adventures, but
of course had no idea what was in store for them.

Well, the forest was soon left far behind, and, much
to their astonishment, they perceived mountains ahead
of them so high that snow lay white on their conical
summits.

In an hour or two they were over a charming valley,
and so low down that they could see the black natives
running about in a great state of excitement, having
evidently caught sight of the aeronauts.

"Fortune favours the brave," cried Duncan exultantly.
"Here shall we descend, and make assurance
doubly sure, and the safety of our friends certain."

With a little manipulation of the valves, a descent
was made far more easily than any one could have
imagined.  Anchors were let go, and soon it was
possible for all hands, including even Vike, to get out of
the car.

An innovation awaiting them which they had little
expected.  Here were at least a thousand spear-armed
warriors assembled, and as they came towards them,
all threw themselves on their faces, or bent themselves
in attitudes of worship.

"Here's a wind-up to a windy day," cried Frank
laughing.  "Why, these chaps evidently take us for gods!"

"It would seem so," said Duncan, "but I for one
don't feel quite up to that form."

One of the savages was held aloft in a kind of
sedan-chair, and was evidently the chief or king.  He was
the most hideous-looking savage it is possible to
imagine; extremely corpulent, with a cruel, cut-throat
expression of face; small deep-set eyes, and cheeks
covered with parallel scars about an inch long.  His
hair in front hung straight down in tiny ringlets over
a retreating forehead.

One should never show fear before savages.  Duncan
knew this, and walking boldly up to the huge travelling
throne he saluted him in an off-hand way, and
addressed him in English.

His majesty only shook his hideous head, but
pointed with his spear towards his army.

Every one sprang up and stood erect, but silent as
the grave.

"C'rambo!" said the king.

And C'rambo advanced smiling.

Very different was this tall, lithe, and
supple-looking savage to any about him.  His skin was
yellow instead of black.  His smile was a forbidding,
sarcastic leer, and although our heroes knew nothing
of African savages, any coasting sailor could have told
them this man was a Somali.

In his right hand he carried three ugly spears, one
of which was attached by a cord to his wrist, while
on his left forearm was a small round shield--such as
are worn by the tribes on the eastern coast north of
the line.

This fellow first salaamed to the chief, addressing
him in a harsh and guttural jangle of words.  Then
he turned haughtily towards our heroes.

"Who am you, and whe' you comes from?"

"First and foremost," replied Duncan, quite as
haughtily, "who are you?  Whose country are we in,
and how far from the coast are we?"

"Humph!  You feels dam bold, eh?  Suppose I
holds up my leetle white finger, King Slaleema's men
den cut all your troats plenty much quick."

In spite of a feeling of doubt and fear that dwelt
at his heart, Duncan burst out laughing.

"Your little white finger, my friend, is as yellow as
a duck's foot.

"You see this little revolver?" he added.  "Your
life and five more of your beastly lot, including your
pig of a king, lie in these chambers.  Have you any
particular longing to be stretched?  If not, civility
will pay you.  Now, will you answer?"

Both Frank and Conal, following their captain's
lead, had laid their hands on their pistol-butts.

"Pay?" said the fellow.  "S'pose you gift me, I do
most anything.  Wot you wants foh to know?"

"We will give you gifts.  What would you like?"

"English food, tools, a lifel (rifle).  Money no good."

"You're modest, but we are liberal.  How far are
we from the coast?"

"Foh one Englishmans six week.  Foh one gentleman
Somali, plaps one."

"How many miles?"

"I not count, free undled, plaps.  Plaps mo'.  Plenty
savage, plenty folest (forest), lion, tiger, and 'gators in
de ribbers.  Pletty soon de gobble up poo' little
Englishmans."

"Where did you learn your English?"

"At de court ob de Sultan ob Zanzibar.  But I cut
de troats ob two tree men and den fly in one canoe.
I now King Slaleema's plime minister."

"And a bonnie ticket you are," said Duncan.  "Now,
listen; if you will carry a letter to Lamoo and bring
an answer you shall have a gun on your return with
the reply.  The letter shall be for the Sultan.  Are
you agreed?"

The fellow seized Duncan's hand and pressed it to
his brow.

"De bargain am made," he cried.  "I'se ready.  All
de way I run.  Carrambo hab de good legs."

"Who called you Carrambo?"

"De dam Portugee.  I cut tree, four troats all de same."

The recollection caused him to laugh.  But he now
spat viciously on the ground.

"De Portugee all fools.  Pah!" he cried in disgust.

"Now," he added, "I ver goot man.  I not cheatee
you.  I come back plenty twick (quick).  Bling de
answer all same too.  But take care."

"Care of what?"

"Ob you' dam troats.  Dese savage tink you come
flom 'eaben (heaven).  I tell 'em, dis quite tlue.
S'pose dey not b'lieve, den dey kill and eat you."

"Hah!  Cannibals, are they?  How very comforting!"

"Eberyone cannibals heah.  De dog, dey tink, am
de debbil.  Again I say to Slaleema, all tlue."

"Well, Carrambo, perhaps you are a much more
honest fellow than you look.  And you don't look a
saint."

"All beesiness, sah.  You gib me one gun and
plenty 'munition, den I selve (serve) you.  S'pose
a Portugee say I gib you tree gun, cut all der troats;
I cut all your troats plenty much quick, and King
Slaleema he gobble you up foh tlue."

"You're an honest, faithful fellow, Carrambo," said
Duncan sarcastically.

"Beesiness, sah, beesiness," replied the prime
minister.  "Wot dis wo'ld be widout beesiness, tell
me dat?"

Carrambo held his head a little to one side and both
open palms out in front of him.

As, however, the question was too philosophical in
its nature, Duncan made no reply.

"'Scuse me one moment, sah."

He hurried away, and presently afterwards reappeared
from behind a hut, dragging a poor little
naked girl by one hand.

"You take lifel and s'oot de chile," he said.  "She
foh de king's dinner.  Dis will make one good
implession on dese pore ignolant savages."

This might have been true, but Duncan nevertheless
did not see his way to become the king's executioner.

He shot a fowl, however, and at the flash and
report the savages, who had never seen white men
before, and never heard the sound of a gun, screamed
wildly, and rushed off with such precipitation, that
they seemed to be all a mist of long black scraggy
legs and arms.

But Carrambo's voice recalled them, and they
returned awed and terror-struck.

The dead fowl, moreover, was evidence of the
terrible power possessed by these great "children of
the air".

What might they not do next?

These innocent wretches trembled to think.  I call
them innocent simply because they knew not sin.

"If then," says the apostle, "knowing these things,
happy are ye if ye do them."

For knowledge brings with it responsibility, and
this neglected is accounted to us as sin.

This night our young heroes spent in the car of the
balloon, and honest Viking went on guard.  But even
if the savages--for savages they were of the most
demoniacal type--possessed any longing to do them
to death, fear, natural and supernatural, deterred them.

Next morning early, Carrambo, the king's prime
minister, departed upon his long and dangerous
mission, taking two young warriors with him, and
promising faithfully to return in two weeks at the
farthest.

"S'pose you not see me den," he added sententiously,
"den I gone deaded foh tlue."

The place seemed more lonesome now that Carrambo
had gone, for, scoundrel though he undoubtedly was,
he was someone to speak to.

They now began seriously to consider their situation
and prospects.

In their heart of hearts they believed that they had
been the means of sending succour to their marooned
shipmates, on that lonely isle of the ocean.  Their
minds were easy enough on that score, for if even the
steamer they had hailed had resumed her course
without making any attempt to find the isle and
rescue the mariners, the Sultan of Lamoo, Duncan
fully understood, had always been friendly with the
British, and would immediately despatch assistance in
some shape or other.

Duncan, before doing anything else, got out his
instruments of observation, and as well as could be
made out, the glen in which they were virtually
imprisoned was between two and three hundred miles
off the coast, and some degrees south of the line.

He was puzzled at first as to why the place had
never been discovered by British explorers.

But there are hundreds of such tribe-lands that have
never yet been trodden by the foot of Christian men.

There was one clue to the mystery, however, and
this was probably the true one, but they did not find
it out just then.

"Now," said Duncan, "for a visit of ceremony to
that fat old pig of king.  And we must take him some
presents, too."

Duncan had not forgotten that there were on board
the *Flora* many large and beautiful strings of beads,
which had been intended for bartering with any
natives they might meet, and he had stowed away
many such in the balloon car.

"Come, Conal, or Frank," he said, "I don't care
which.  But one of you with Vike must stay by the
car and stand by your guns, in case the cupidity of
these cut-throat natives gets the better of their fear."

"I'll stay," cried the Cockney boy, as pluckily as
ever Englishman spoke.

So down the hill towards the village, revolvers in
their belts and rifles cocked, marched Duncan and Conal.

They found the king sitting cross-legged outside his
kraal or great grass hut, and being assiduously fanned
by his wives.

These were no beauties, but Duncan lifted his cap
and salaamed to the king first and then to them.

They seemed both pleased and tickled, and giggled
inordinately, until the king rounded on them, scowling
and drawing his fore-finger across his throat in a most
significant manner.

The young Britons, as they approached his majesty,
tried not to look at the awful remains of his last
night's feast, but the sickening sight obtruded itself
upon them in spite of all they could do.

Besides the beads, they had brought with them a
four-pound tin of preserved beef.

They had expected his majesty to take a little of
this, but were not a little surprised when he seized the
tin and began digging out and swallowing huge lumps
of it, with a guttural ejaculation of delight between
each mouthful.

"Goo--goo--goo!" he exclaimed, as with about a yard
of hideous tongue he finished off by licking out the tin.

"Nothing more horrible have I ever seen!" said Duncan.

"That is true," said Conal.

The king threw down the empty tin--he couldn't
swallow that--smiled, nodded, and pointed towards
the clouds.

"Goo--goo--goo--" he cried interrogatively.

Duncan nodded and smiled in turn, although he
had wished the brute had choked himself.

But the horror of the brothers is not to be described
when, at a call from the king, accompanied by a string
of words that consisted mostly of vowels, two slaves
came forward and offered them the roasted forearms
of a child--no doubt those of the girl which Carrambo
had asked them to shoot the day before.

They turned away, and shook their heads, but fearing
to give offence, immediately presented his majesty
with a string of beautiful beads.

His delight was childish-like and unbounded, and
he immediately called for his sedan-chair of bamboo
cane, and was trotted through the village of huts that
his subjects might admire him.

That same forenoon Duncan, accompanied only by
Viking, went on a voyage of discovery as he called it.
He wanted to find out the lay of the land.

Two natives, impelled by curiosity, followed him,
and when he beckoned to them and gave each a bead,
they readily accompanied him as escort.

Vike kept aloof.

He didn't like the looks of these savages.

But after climbing a conical hill, Duncan found out
the true reason for the isolation of these savages.
Their country was at least a thousand feet above the
level of the land.  And this last, except on one side
where the mountains hid their snow-capped heads in
the clouds, everywhere were dark and seemingly
impenetrable forests.




.. _`treasure-hunters.  the forest`:

CHAPTER IV.--TREASURE-HUNTERS.  THE FOREST.
===========================================

The exact topography of Cannibal Glen, as the
boys had named this blood-reeking territory, was,
however, not the only discovery made to-day.

The other was singular in the extreme.  It was
nothing less than that of a ruined fort, at no great
distance from the place where the balloon was anchored,
but high up on the side of a hill and surrounded by a
clump of trees.

The fort was built of stone, and still of considerable
strength, and so constructed that it could be defended,
if occasion demanded, by two resolute young men
against four score savages.

Duncan thought it somewhat strange, that there was
no footpath leading towards it, and that it seemed to
be avoided by the natives.

They found out afterwards that the place had been
the scene of a cruel massacre of white men--Portuguese
without a doubt--and that it was now supposed to be
the abode of evil spirits.

All the better for our young adventurers.  And
they made up their minds to take possession of the old
fort the very next day.

That afternoon, however, they removed everything
from the car of the balloon, and camped just a little
way therefrom.

They had lit a fire really more for the sake of light
than heat, and for, many hours after the sun's last
glow tipped the snowy summits of the mountains with
pink and blue, and the stars had come out, they sat
here talking of home.  But not of home only, but of
their future prospects.

"From several strange cavities I have observed in
my rambles to-day," said Duncan, "I have come to the
conclusion that the white men who built that fort
were also miners.  Everything points to this fact, and
also, alas! to that of their murderous extermination by
fire and by the spears of these fiendish savages."

"Yes, Conal, it may have been many long years ago,
centuries perhaps, but who can say what discoveries
we may not make next.  There may be buried treasure!"

Both Conal and Frank opened their eyes wider now.

"What!" cried Frank, "you think--"

"I don't think, Frank, my boy, I am reasoning from
analogy, as it were.  First and foremost, it is not for
nought the glaud whistles."

"I don't hitch on," said the Cockney boy.

"The glaud," said Conal by way of explanation, "is
a wild Scottish hawk, that always whistles aloud before
darting on his prey."

"The glaud in this case," said Duncan, "is the
Portuguese, who never go into any savage country except
for the sake of treasure or plunder.

"Secondly," he continued, "if the band were all
massacred, they doubtless had hidden their dust, and
it is evidently there still.  Thirdly, these cannibal
outcasts care nothing for gold, and would at any time
give a large and valuable diamond for a coloured bead."

"I do declare," cried Frank, "I sha'n't sleep a wink
to-night for thinking of all this.  Duncan, you are
clever!"

"Have you only just found that out?" said Conal,
laughing.  Conal was proud of his brother.

"And now," said Duncan, "shall we, after a few
days of exploration, get into the balloon once more,
and try to find our way to the sea-shore."

"Before I could answer that question myself," he
added, "I would like to think it all out, and so I move
that we curl up."

Wrapped in their warm rugs--for, at this
elevation, though in mid-Africa, a rug is almost a necessity
at night--the boys were soon asleep beside the fire, and
no one was left on guard except dear old Vike.

He slept with one eye open, or one ear at all events,
and was likely to give a good account of any savage
who might come prowling around the camp.

But, by way of making assurance doubly sure, the
adventurers slept with loaded revolvers close beside
them.

They slept heavily.

And that, too, despite the roaring of lions far down
in the plains below, and the unearthly shrieks of
goodness knows what, that came, ever and again, from the
dark depths of the forest.

The sun was just rising over the distant green and
hazy horizon when Duncan sat up.

He rubbed his eyes, and gazed around him almost wildly.

"Conal, Frank," he cried them, "awake! awake!
Where is the balloon?"

Had there been any echo it might well have answered
"Where?"

The balloon was gone!

The explanation was not difficult.  For, relieved of
its load, it had quietly slipped its moorings during the
darkness and gone on a voyage on its own account,
goodness only knows where.  And our heroes would
never see it more.

To say that they were not deeply grieved would be
far short of the truth.  The loss seemed to cut them
off entirely from the outer world.

But their hearts were young and buoyant, and so
they did not mourn long.

After breakfast, indeed Duncan, who was the
recognized leader, laughed lightly, saying as he did so:

"Come, you fellows, don't look so blue.  Perhaps
the loss of the balloon is a blessing in disguise."

"I don't quite see it," said Frank.

"No, you don't see the balloon.  You've looked
your very last on that; but listen to logic: We might
have journeyed away in that balloon and been carried
into regions from which we never could have got free
again."

"True enough!" said Conal.

Indeed everything his brother said was right in
Conal's eyes.

"Well," said Frank after a pause, "I'm not going to
bother about it.  The Pope was correct in saying,
'What is, is right.'"

"It wasn't the Pope, Frank, but Pope the poet."

"Ah, well, it doesn't matter; only I had such grand
dreams last night."

"Indeed!"

"Yes, indeed.  I was wandering through the diamond
mines of Golconda, with Aladdin's lamp in one hand
and a horse's nose-bag in the other.  And I filled that
nose-bag too, you bet."

"Well, Aladdin, or not Aladdin, I move now that we
move up the hillside and take formal possession of
the Portuguese old fort."

"I second the moving motion," said Conal.

So Duncan and Conal became the carriers; Frank,
with Vike, remaining below on guard until
everything was taken up.

It took them the whole of that day, and the next as
well, to settle down in their new quarters, and to
make everything snug and comfortable.

To their great delight, at the foot of a rock not far
off they found a small well with a spring of the coldest
water, bubbling up through the rocks.

It was partly no doubt on account of this very well,
that the former inhabitants of the fort had chosen this
spot as their habitat.

One room, and one only, of the ruin was roofed, and
this they commenced to overhaul and thoroughly clear
and clean.

They shuddered somewhat, however, when they
came across human bones, and these had been charred
by fire, and so told a terrible tale.

But Duncan and his comrades were not to be daunted,
and determined to make this their living-room, for no
matter how hard the rain might fall, their stores would
be dry and safe.

Besides the door, there was one opening which had
been a window.

It was at first proposed to barricade it up, but this
would have prevented ventilation, and shown fear also.

"I have it!" cried Frank.

"Well?"

"Erect two skulls.  There they are all ready to hand."

This was done.

The terrible relics were fastened to short poles, and
one was stuck at each side of the window outside.

----

For a time, at all events, the boys might well
consider themselves safe, for superstition is far more deep
and rife in heathen lands than it is in Christian, and
that is saying a good deal.

"I do think all this is rather jolly than otherwise,"
said Frank a morning or two after they had got nicely
settled, as he termed it, "and I wouldn't mind living
here for some time."

"I'm afraid we'll have to, Frank," said Duncan,
laughing.

"Bar the vicinity of that ugly king, and his crowd,"
Conal put in.

"But you must admit, captain, that there is a spice
of romance in this mode of life, and I wouldn't mind
much what happened to me, if there was a ground-work
of romance in it."

Frank was reminded of these remarks by his fellows
some time after this, and after a thrilling adventure,
in which he happened to be first-person-singular.

"But I say," he added, "what shall we call ourselves?
Crusoes?  Eh?"

"I think," said Conal, "that a Crusoe must live on
an island."

"Hermits, then."

"No.  You can't have a plurality of hermit.  A
hermit is a hermit, and he is all by himself.  If a lot
of people come and live in the same place he is a
hermit no longer."

"Solitaires," suggested Duncan.

Conal laughed aloud.

"Why," he cried, "you stupid old Duncan, a solitaire
is a sleeve-link or collar-stud or something."

"Foresters, then."

"Fiddlesticks!  The forest is miles away."

"Treasure-hunters?"

"That's better.  And we'd best leave it at that."

"Well, having made everything snug, suppose we
go and see the fat king again."

"Good! and then go and fish.  There is a nice little
stream down here, and we might even have a peep into
the forest."

"Happy thought!" said Frank.

Frank's mind, by the way, was partially built upon
happy thoughts, and there was always one or two
ready to bob up on the surface.

"What now, Frank?"

"We've lots of wine, and we won't drink it.  Suppose
we take King Pig a bottle."

They did so, and also some more beads.

They marched--that is, Frank and Duncan, Conal
being left at home to keep house--straight to the
king's kraal.

They sang as they entered the village, seeming to
know by instinct what I had to learn from experience,
that a happy, independent, and careless manner goes
a long way to impress savages with one's superiority.

The cannibal king was just getting up.  He had
eaten too much the night before, and overslept
himself.  But he seemed glad to see our heroes, smiled,
and poked his black, fat fingers funnily towards them.

His hut was a big one, but something in it
immediately caught Frank's eye.  It was a huge, black,
and horribly ugly doll.  The king's god, without a
doubt.  It was as black as the ace of clubs, with red
lips and white tusks.  The eyes seemed to glare at the
intruders, but the intruders didn't mind.

Frank drew nearer to it, for something in this
wooden god's head shone with a light that was
perfectly dazzling.  Anyone could have seen it was a
diamond of the purest water.

How could he secure it? that was the question.
Why, that stone was a fortune in itself.  Robbing a
cannibal king might not be much of a crime, but the
treasure-hunters recoiled from the idea.

Barter!  Ha! that indeed.  Finance is a fine thing!

Frank held out a handful of beautiful beads, and
pointed to the god's grinning head.

But the king looked frightened, and shook his head.

Frank replaced the beads in his pocket.

The king looked wofully sad.

"The wine," said Frank, and Duncan produced it.
He poured some out into a little tin cup and drank,
then corked the bottle.

"Goo--goo--goo!" exclaimed the king, excitedly.

"Why, the old rogue," said Duncan, "knows what it
is.  Let him smell the bottle."

"Confound him, no!  He'd seize and drink the lot."

But he handed him some in a cocoa-nut shell, and
having gulped that down, he handed the shell back to
be refilled.

Frank laughed, but shook his head.

He now offered the beads and the bottle for the
diamond, and at once the cannibal yielded.

He waddled over towards the god, and digging out
the glorious gem with the point of an ugly crease--which
doubtless had slit many an innocent throat--he
handed it to the financier, Frank Trelawney.

Frank first put it carefully in his pocket, then he
proceeded to insert three beautiful and large beads in
the hole in the god's forehead, left empty by the
abstraction of the gem.

"Goo--goo--goo!" cried the king.

"Don't be a big baby!  You'll have the wine in a
brace of shakes".

Determined to be honest, Frank not only placed a
string of beads about the neck of the idol, but a larger
and more handsome one over the king's broad brisket.
Then he gave him nutful after nutful of sherry till
there wasn't a drop left in the bottle.

The king thought he would sing now.

His song was like the snoring of an Indian frog.
But the king was happy.

So was Frank.

"I say, Duncan," he said, "a knowledge of finance
is an excellent thing.  And honesty is the best policy,
isn't it?  Well, we've made one man happy this
morning.  It is very soothing to one's conscience, and
really, Duncan, I wouldn't mind making a few more
cannibals happy--"

"At the same price?"

"That's it," said Frank.

The king slept, and, leaving his wives to fan him,
the boys slipped away.

They now went back "home", as they called the
haunted fort, then arranged for a day's sport.

The stream they soon reached was close to the
forest, and seemed alive with fish.  The tackle which
they used was simple but effective.  Not original
either, for country boys in Scotland constantly use
it, and though the marvellously-dressed and
fully-equipped Englishman may fish all day and catch
nothing, the ragged urchin not far off is making a
string of dozens--a string that the Cockney eventually
purchases and palms off as the result of his own prowess.

Such is life!  But the tackle?  Oh, yes, the tackle!
Well, it was a bent pin, a short string and rod, with a
morsel of an insect for bait.

But Duncan and Frank made a discovery to-day
that was alarming.

After catching sufficient fish to suffice for more than
one hearty meal, they hid their rods and tackle in the
bush, and ventured to march towards the forest.

It was terribly darksome and gloomy, with very
little undergrowth, and as they knew there were lions
about they ventured forward with great caution,
keeping close together, treading lightly, and keeping a
good look-out on every side.

They had not gone far before they found that this
great woodland was the abode of creatures, probably
quite as much to be dreaded even as lions.

The first part they traversed, however, was
apparently a land of delight, just as it was a land of the
most brilliant flowering trees and shrubs, among which
thousands of bright-winged birds chattered and sang,
while parrots by the score mimicked them.

"Surely," said Frank, "we have come to paradise at
last!  Did ever you see such glorious fruit?  Oh, we
must indulge, Duncan, and carry back some guavas
and mangoes to poor lonely Conal and Viking."

They did indulge, and that too without stint.

But this paradise soon drew to an end.

"Anyhow, Duncan," said Frank, cheerfully, "we
shall know now where to find both fish and fruit."

"Hark!"

Well might he say hark.

The sounds that now broke harsh and terrible upon
their ears would have appalled older and stouter
hearts than theirs.




.. _`fighting the gorillas`:

CHAPTER V.--FIGHTING THE GORILLAS.
==================================

Frank and Duncan had undoubtedly been rash.
They had penetrated for fully a mile into the
gloomy depths of this dark, primeval forest.  The
sun-life of beautiful birds and luscious fruits--Frank's
paradise--they had left far behind.  Here was
nothing that could be called inviting: slimy, rotting
leaves on the bare ground, with here and there a
huge and ugly toadstool; and the branchless trunks
of mighty trees covered with white and yellow
mildew or flour-like fungi.  And these trees towered
skywards, forming a dark green canopy overhead,
that no sunlight could ever penetrate, nor moonlight
or star-rays at night.

The silence for some time had been both cold and
irksome.  I cannot otherwise describe it.

But now that dread silence was broken, and not
only high overhead, but far away in front, the forest
suddenly awoke into a sylvan pandemonium.

What yells, what shrieks, what hoarse and fearful cries!

The boys instinctively drew closer together, and
stood ready to shoot.

But nothing appeared, though the awful noises
increased rather than diminished.

Frank saw Duncan's lips moving, but he could hear
nothing.

Surely they were in a demon-haunted forest.

They looked at each other, then at once commenced
a speedy retreat.

They ran as fast as ever they had done at school,
and up behind them came the roar of the demons.  But
they could see no creature as yet, though they often
glanced furtively behind them.

The enemy, however, seeing that they were but
little more than a hundred yards from the sunlight,
mustered up courage for the attack.

And down from the trees they leapt--a score, at
least, of hideous, long-armed, hairy gorillas.

If they did not possess the courage, they at all
events had far more than the strength of ordinary
men.

As they advanced they beat their breasts furiously,
uttering savage cries.

"A clear head now!" shouted Duncan.

Both young fellows leaned their rifles against trees
to make sure of their aim.

Br-rang!  Br-rang!

The sound awakened the echoes of the ugly forest,
and two gorillas fell dead.

There was a silence of fully fifteen seconds, and the
boys went hurrying on again.

Then came wailings and howlings, as of grief, but
these were quickly changed to yells of anger, and on
they came once more.  They soon overtook our two
heroes, who, after firing with good effect, drew their
revolvers and made a running battle of it.

Luckily they never once allowed these fiendish
monsters to get into grips, else speedily indeed would
they have been throttled to death.

Out into the sunshine, the glorious life-giving
sunshine at last.  And now they were safe.  They crawled
rather than walked as far as a little stream that
trickled from a rock, and threw themselves down
exhausted.

But youth soon recovers from exertion, and terror
too, and so they finally found themselves back at the
ruined fort loaded with both fruit and fish.

Happy indeed was Conal to see them, for, far away
from the fort though the forest was, he had listened
appalled to the awful medley of yells and shrieks, and
made sure they were being murdered.

"Hillo!" cried Frank, cheerful once again--and
hungry also--and it seems to me Frank was always
hungry--"Hillo!  Why, you have actually dinner ready?"

"Yes," said Conal, laughing.  "Vike and I found
some sweet-potatoes and we cooked these."

"But that splendid fish you are broiling?"

"Ah! isn't she a beauty?  But you should have
seen the little girl who brought it, carrying it on a
little grass rope.  She was a beauty too.  And we
had quite a little flirtation."

"Conal!  I'm--"

"Oh, are you, indeed? but I don't mind.  I gave
Umtomie--that's her pretty name--two lovely beads,
and she sat there and sang to me, so sweetly!  Then
she brought me a calabash full of water, and, smiling
over teeth quite as white and even as a pointer
puppy's, she waved her hand, her lily hand--no, her
raven hand--"

"That's more truthful, Con."

"And off she trotted once again."

"Then, I suppose," said Frank, "the sunshine went
all out of your life, eh?"

"Well, there did seem to be a partial eclipse or
something.  But down you sit to chow-chow."

Down they did sit, and a right hearty meal they made.

It was Conal's turn to go sporting the next day.
But he and Duncan gave the forest a wide berth, and
so nothing very wild in the shape of adventure fell to
their lot.

----

Much time was spent every day now in prospecting.

Duncan couldn't and wouldn't believe that the
hands that built that strong fort had not dug for and
found both gold and diamonds.

And he determined, if possible, to find some also.

Unluckily they had no mining-tools, neither spade,
shovel, nor pick-axe.

But Frank was a boy of infinite resources.

"Why not make miners' tools?" he said.  "We have
chisels and hammers and what not, and there is a tree
growing yonder that is as hard as iron!"

"What!  Another happy thought, Frank?"

"Yes, Duncan, my brave old captain, and I haven't
got half-way to the bottom of my mine of happy
thought yet."

Well, picks and spades were now actually fashioned,
partly by tools, partly by fire.  And then the boys
set to work with a will to open the old mines.

They had worked for a whole week, but without
success, when one evening a loud and awful trumpeting
told them that elephants had arrived on the plains
below, or were passing through the country of the
cannibals for pastures new.

"What a splendid chance for sport!" cried Frank.

"Yes," said Conal.  "Fancy bagging a few elephants.
Tuskers, don't they call them, brother?"

"Yes, in India the males are so named, but here in
Africa both sexes have tusks, though those on the he
ones are bigger, and are said to be better ivory."

It was determined, therefore, to march against the
elephants next day, and neither Conal nor Frank
could sleep very well for thinking of it.

Now, though I have no desire to be hard upon my
heroes, I must say that I am not sorry for what
happened, because elephants--next to our friend the
dog--are probably the wisest and most innocent
animals in the world.

When, therefore, Duncan next forenoon killed a
lady elephant and Conal wounded a bull, the lady
being his wife, it was no wonder he should lose his
temper and charge right down on the lad.

To fly was impossible.  There was no refuge
anywhere.  But Conal did attempt to retreat.  He
stumbled and fell, however, and next moment the
awful foe was upon him.  A less brave boy would
have fainted, but there was no such weakness about
Conal, though he felt his hour was come, and Duncan,
who was fully eighty yards away, could not assist
him.  He put his hands to his eyes to avoid being a
witness to the dreadful death of his brother, which
now seemed inevitable.

The wounded monster had dashed forward trumpeting,
but, once alongside, though blood was jerking
from a wound through one of his eyes, he attacked
immediately.  He knelt beside the boy's prostrate
form and attempted to tusk him.  The terrible
snorting, blood-streaming head was close over him.  But,
with the quickness and cuteness of a professional
footballer, Conal rolled himself between his legs, and
now the brute attempted to squash him to death with
his knees, and Conal managed, strange to say, to avoid
each stroke.

It was really a tussle for life, and, unable to bear
the sight any longer, Duncan came rushing on now
towards the scene of conflict, apparently determined
to die with Conal if he could not rescue him.

The boy seemed to be dead, and was almost under
the elephant.  But Duncan took steady aim, and the
bullet put out the poor beast's other eye.  He
staggered to his feet now, and, stumbling and trumpeting
as he went, made directly back to the herd.

Conal was bruised and sore, as well he might be,
but otherwise intact, and the two hunters now made
for higher ground.

Now I do not know the reason for what followed.
I can but guess it, and give the reader facts.  Only,
when the great bull regained the herd, which, by the
way, numbered only about a score, he fell, or rather
threw himself down in front of his companions.

"Kill me now," he seemed to plead.  "My mate is
dead, and I am blind and in pain.  Put me out of my
misery."

Next moment the killing had commenced.  The
bull never winced nor moved, and his companions
trode him to death before the eyes of their human
persecutors.

"Let us go back to the fort," said Duncan sadly.
"A more heartrending sight I never have seen.
Conal, I have shot my first and my last elephant."

When they told Frank all the sad story, he, too,
agreed that elephant-shooting is not sport, but the
cowardly murder of one of the most noble animals
ever God placed on earth.

----

Strange to say, every day that Conal was left at the
fort to do the watching and the cooking, little
Lilywhite, as he now called the wee savage lassie, came to
pay him a visit, her eyes all a-sparkle, her two rows
alabaster teeth flashing snow-white in the sunshine.

Nor did she ever come without a fish, which she
herself had caught.  So tame did she become, that he
could trust her to attend to the fire, for which she
gathered wood, turn the fish with a wooden fork, and
gather and cook the sweet-potatoes or yams.

Of course Frank chaffed Conal unmercifully about
this lady-love, Lilywhite, of his.

But Conal cared nothing for that.

"You can't do less than marry her, you know," he
said one day.  "It would be cruel to trifle with the
young lady's affections."

"I shouldn't think of doing less than leading her to
the altar," said Conal.  "I should hate a breach of
promise case."

They still paid many visits to the king, but though
he frequently asked for "goo-goo" (wine), no goo-goo
was given him for the present.

At last, oh joy! news came from the far-off outer
world.  For Carrambo returned.

A little thinner he looked, but maintained the same
nonchalant air.

He handed Duncan a letter, and as it was written
in a bold English hand he tore it nervously open.

"Flom de skipper of de *Pen-Gun*," said Carrambo.
"When I see de gun-boat lie in de ribber of Lamoo, I
say to myse'f, 'No good bother wid the Sultan.'  Den
I go on board.  All boo'ful white deck; all shiny
blass, and black big gun; and de men all dress in
sca'let and blue.  Oh, dam fine, I 'ssure you.  De
skipper he take me below and give me biscocoes and
vine till I not can dlink mo'.

"He read the letter.  He den write anoder and
soon I go again."

"Ten thousand thanks, Carrambo.  You have earned
your rifle.  My brother and I shall teach you to shoot,
and if when we make an attempt to leave this wild
land, you will come with us to be our guide to Lamoo
many another present you shall receive besides."

Lieutenant-commanding H.M.S. *Pen-Gun* wrote
most cheerfully and hopefully to Duncan, assuring
him that he himself would steam at once eastwards,
and if he was successful in finding the unhappy
mariners, they should be immediately taken off,
tenderly cared for, and landed at Zanzibar, to wait under
the charge of the British consul until a ship should
arrive and take them back to England.

"Thank God for all his mercies," exclaimed Duncan
piously, after he had twice read the letter aloud to his
comrades.

Then all hands shook Carrambo's hard fist, and
noting that there was something more than usual on
the tapis, Vike must jump up and go dancing all round
the fort.  But he made his way to the water to finish
up with, for racing in Africa is hot work.

Carrambo received his rifle, and that very evening
received also his first lessons in the use thereof.

Carrambo was indeed a proud man now.

He held his head erect and said to Duncan:

"We'n King Slaleema he want some piccaniny kill
fo' to eat, I bling dat piccaniny down wid one lifel
bullet plenty twick."

Then Duncan lost his temper.

He was a strong young Scot and athlete, and
Carrambo, tough savage though he was, had no show
after Duncan got hold of that rifle.

He wrenched it from his hand before anyone could
have said "knife".

"You yellow-skinned scoundrel!" he cried, "you do
not touch the rifle again till you promise me on your
honour--though I don't suppose that weighs much--that
you will never attempt to shoot, even at the
king's bidding, any child he wishes to destroy."

Carrambo glanced one moment at Duncan, then,
turning on his heel, walked off.

The boys thought he was gone for good; but presently
he returned, holding in his hand a long thin root.

This he cut in two with his knife.

He placed one half in his bosom, and gave the other
to Duncan.

"Carrambo plomise.  Suppose Carrambo bleak dat
plomise, den de debbil he cut Carrambo's heart in two,
and take he away to de ver bad place."

This was an oath, though of a curious sort, but
Duncan knew that this strange being would keep it,
and so the rifle was restored.

The Somali now went off to see the king, but he
first and foremost delivered the rifle into Conal's
keeping.

Presently he returned laughing.

"De king--ha, ha!--he want to see you, foh tlue."

"Yes?"

"And he vant to see you vely mooch dilectly."

"Well?"

"Well, ha, ha, ha!"  Carrambo evidently couldn't
contain himself, "he wants one bottle of goo-goo."

The royal command was obeyed by Frank and
Duncan, Carrambo accompanying them to carry the
goo-goo.

The king laughed like one possessed when he saw
the bottle, and made various signals for a drink,
holding out the same old nutshell.

It was three times filled, and Carrambo himself was
also presented with a nutful.

Then the king waxed communicative, and, after
calling upon two of his wives to fan him, and two
more to cool Duncan and Frank down, he said he
would tell them the story of the fort, and Carrambo
himself stood by to translate.

The story was certainly a sort of a "freezer", as
Frank termed it, but Carrambo, I have no doubt, gave
a very literal translation thereof.

Let me carry it on to the next chapter please.




.. _`an invading army--victory!`:

CHAPTER VI.--AN INVADING ARMY--VICTORY!
=======================================

"Goo-goo!" said the king.

Duncan shook his head as he sat on a block of
wood near to him, and just where he could get a good
look of his sable countenance.

"He say," Carrambo interpreted, "no goo-goo, no stoly."

But Duncan was firm.  Savages are very like
children in some of their ways, and Duncan knew it.  He
shifted the bottle farther back therefore.

"No story, no goo-goo.  Tell him that, Carrambo."

The fat king grinned, slapped one of his wives,
grinned again, and began to talk.

As translated by the Somali, the story ran
somewhat as follows:--

"I king now.  My fadder he king once.  My fadder
fadder he king befo'; my fadder fadder fadder he king
too.  'Twas when fadder fadder fadder king.  De
boys all in de bush one day, make much fine spolt.
Shoot de monkey fo' eat; shoot de lion and de
spot-cat (leopard) all wid bow and arrow.  Some dey kill
wid spear.

"Plesantly, all as soon as nuffin, plenty much noise
and shout in de bush.  Den fire-sticks flash and plenty
thunder, and one, two, tlee, nine, ten (the king was
counting on his fingers and could go no further) ob
my fadder's fadder's fadder's poor people lie down and
bleed red, and die.  But dis not all.  De king's people
fight, and many mo' all kill and bleeding, and so de
king make peace.

"De white men dey take many wives away, den take
de country, and de king he king no mo'.  All de same
he not conquer.  Plaps he take revenge one day.  You
see plenty soon.

"Well, de white men wid de thunder-sticks, they
build big big house--big, big, stlong, stlong, all de
same as you young gemmans lib in now.  So dey
settle down and lib heah.

"Dey go spolt plenty in de bush, and kill much
wild beast.  Sometimes de wild beast--ha, ha!--kill
dey, and chew up foh tlue.

"But all de same de white folks stay one two year.
Dey gadder much glass stone--"

"These," said Duncan, "were evidently diamonds."

"Were they like these?" said Frank, taking the
splendid diamond from his pocket and holding it up.

"All same, all same, de king say," cried Carrambo.

"Dey go heah and dere all ober de mountain to
seek fo' de glass stone, and many dey find and buly."

"Bury," cried Duncan, showing some little
excitement.  "Ask him, Carrambo, where the glass was
buried.  Wait a minute though," he added.  "Frank,
give him another nutful of goo-goo."

Frank did as he was told.  Carrambo put the
question, and the king's eyes sparked.

"What does he say, Carrambo?"

"He says de debbil guard the glass stones, and if
he tell any white man where they lie, den de debbil
take he plenty quick."

The king was offered a whole bottle of goo-goo if
he would only divulge the secret, but he was obdurate.

"No, no, no," said Carrambo.  "He say de debbil
no catchee he foh many many long year yet."

Then his majesty proceeded with the story.

"De white men now begin to dig holes in the earf.
Dey want to make hole for bad men to come up
throo, and cut all de throats of my fadder's fadder's
fadder's pore people.

"De ole ole king he fink, 'I no can stand dis no mo'."
"Den one night in de dark folest he gadder his
people togedder.

"He 'splain to dem all 'bout de big hole.  'Plaps,'
he say, 'eben to-mollow de bad white debbils come up
out ob de hole, and catchee us foh tlue.'

"And de ole king's people shake wid anger.

"'Kill, kill, kill, and eat the fire-stick men!' dey
cly.

"Dey shake moh and moh wid anger, den de ole
king say, 'Vely well, all kill'.

"Dat night, out on de plain de moon he shine.  De
moon hab one big led (red) face.  He look down, he
smile and laugh.  'Kill, kill!' he seem to say.  'Kill
de white debbils and dair wives, kill de white piccaninnies
too.  Make much fine bobbery, much fine kill.
I not tell.'

"But de white men dat night say, 'O, de black
cannibal not come dis night.  Too much moon!'  So
dey dlink goo-goo, and moh and moh goo-goo.  Den
dey sing--ha, ha!--den dey sleep.

"De moon he smile all de same.  And the black man
wid plenty spear and knife lie quiet in de bush.

"But the king cly now, and all at once de savage
jump up.

"Plenty much branch ob tree dey cut.

"Plenty much fire.

"Den wid gleat stones de door fly all bloken, and de
white men come out to fight.

"But too much goo-goo--he, he, he!--and dey fall
and fall all in one big heap.  Much blood.  Much kick
and scream!

"Not one alibe now, only de white women and de
piccaninnies.

"Ha, ha, ha, how de king do laugh.  My fadder,
fadder, fadder, dat is.

"But now all de women am drag out, and all de
piccaninny.  Der troats--"

"Horrible!" cried Duncan.  "We will have no more.
Give the old pig of a king more goo-goo and let him
go and sleep it off.  I have never heard, Frank, of a
more diabolical massacre in my life."

Said Carrambo now: "What foh you open again
de old debbil pits?  Some night dey people rise and
murder you tree pooh souls all same as dey kill and eat
de odder white folks long, long ago.  Carrambo know
well.  Dese sabages not hab de debbil pits open.
Oh, no!"

"There is much truth," said Duncan, "in what
Carrambo says.  It would be a pity to leave this land
of gold and diamonds without knowing for certain
whether the mines are worth working; but I move
that we leave the devil pits alone for a time until we
try to reclaim these savages just a little."

"I should reclaim them off the face of the earth,"
said Frank.

"That is impossible, and were it not, we should only
be reducing ourselves to their level.  That is not the
doctrine of Jesus Christ."

So the "debbil pits", much to the joy of the king,
were partially refilled.  But just as they were
shovelling in the earth, brave broad-shouldered Duncan
struck something with his wooden spade.

"Hillo!" he cried, "what have we here?"

Frank and Conal rushed up to see.

"Why, a nugget.  And, boys, it is six pounds weight
if an ounce."

The excitement of the three young fellows now
knew no bounds.  They shook each other by the
hand; they shouted aloud for joy, and then, while
honest Viking capered around them, they raised their
voices in song, Duncan leading in an old song, sung by
the gold-diggers of California in days long, long gone by.

But a right cheery one it was.

   |         "Pull away, cheerily,
   |         Not slow and wearily,
   |   Rocking the cradle,[1] boys, swift to and fro.
   |         Working the hand about,
   |         Sifting the sand about,
   |   Looking for treasures that lie in below."

.. class:: left medium

[1] The machine used for washing the "pay-dirt".

.. vspace:: 2

"Hurrah!  Hurrah!"

Another and a truly British cheer.  The savages far
down below heard it and trembled.

"Plaps," said Carrambo, "dey tink all de debbils
was let loose now foh tlue."

"Here, Carrambo, hurry down with a bottle of goo-goo
to the old king, and tell him we are his friends
now, and if an enemy comes we will help to fight him."

Carrambo came back the same evening rejoicing,
but laughing his wildest.

"Plenty much fun!" he cried.  "De fat king he
dlunk, ebber so much dlunk.  He do nuffin' now.
Jus' lie on him back and sing.  Ha! ha! ha!"

The boys went back to their fort to dine.  Carrambo
would be their friend, though to the savages he
pretended not to be so.  He was even entrusted with
a revolver, and thus a right happy man was he.

Well, when Duncan talked about the invasion of an
enemy he might have been speaking for speaking
sake; but one evening a runner brought the alarming
intelligence that a rich neighbouring tribe were
preparing to fall upon and extirpate the inhabitants of
these glens and hills.

"And a jolly good job too," said Frank.  "We'll
stand by and look on, won't we, Duncan?"

But Duncan shook his head.

"A promise even to a savage is sacred, Frank, and
we must fight."

The Umbaloomi, as the invading tribe was called,
did not keep the tribe long waiting.

They came in force on the very next day.  The
king himself marched along with his warriors, mounted
on a huge elephant, while behind him, on another,
rode his two favourite wives.  The Umbaloomi
potentate had promised them a great treat, and many
heads with which to decorate their huts.

Now Duncan had determined that Goo-goo, as the
fat king had come to be called, should attack the
invaders first.  If he failed to conquer, then Duncan,
with Frank, Conal, and Carrambo, meant to give them
a startler, and something like a surprise.

This was all as it should be, and the fight, as seen
from the bush where our heroes lay *perdu*, was a
fearful one.

What a horrible melée!  What a murderous massacre!
No wonder that the wild birds rose in screaming
clouds, or that the echoes of the forest were awakened
by the bedlam shrieks and howlings of the gorillas!

"Now for it, lads!" cried Duncan, as he noticed that
Goo-Goo's side was losing.  "Steady aim.  Give 'em
fits, but don't fire until I tell you."

Nearer and nearer to the foe they crept under cover
of the mimosa bushes.

"Fire!"

At the word a rattling volley was poured into the
very midst of the foe.

Another and another, for the rifles were repeaters.

"Hurrah!" shouted Carrambo, "the fire-debbils have come!"

Whether the enemy understood him or not I cannot
say, but they were staggered, and backward now they
reeled in a confusion which is indescribable.

The elephants waxed wild, and, instead of flying,
charged right towards the Goo-Goo tribe.

And the invading king, with both his wives, were
instantly slain.

That completed the victory.

But after victory came the rout, the slaughter, and
utter extermination of the invaders.

With the details of the fearful feast that followed,
I should be sorry, indeed, to sully my pages.

So the curtain drops on a sadder scene than ever I
trust any of my readers shall ever behold.

There was another feast, however, of a somewhat
less terrible kind.  For on the slain that night the
beasts of the forest held high revel.

And thus ended the invasion of King Goo-Goo's land.




.. _`the mysterious stone`:

CHAPTER VII.--THE MYSTERIOUS STONE.
===================================

For the first time since their arrival Goo-Goo paid
the boys a visit of ceremony, on the day after the
battle.

Carrambo had apprised them of the honour they
were about to be the recipients of, and they stayed at
home in consequence.

Goo-Goo was very pompous--and precious little else.

He was elated with his victory, but did not hesitate
to admit that Duncan and his comrades had contributed
a little to the turn of the tide of battle.

Goo-Goo was even boastful

Goo-Goo was also very thirsty.

So Duncan invited him to come inside.

He refused.  Not even a whole bottle of his favourite
sherry would have tempted him to cross the threshold
of the fort, because--as he explained through
Carrambo--"plenty much debbil lib (live) in one hole
below de floor".

But he made very small work of a nut-shell of
goo-goo that Duncan presented to him with his own hand.

Then he explained why he had come.  It was to
offer to our heroes the two tame elephants that had
been captured in battle.

Duncan nodded to his fellows, and the gift was
accepted unconditionally, and that very day the great
wise beasts were taken over.

A huge compound was erected for them in a bit of
jungle not far off; the king's men building it with
their own hands.

Moreover, two men were told off to feed and care
for the noble brutes, who soon became very great pets
indeed, with all hands.

The larger of the two might well have been called
immense or colossal.  He seemed especially fond of
Frank, and there wasn't a titbit Frank could think of
that he did not bring to Ju-ju of a morning.

Ju-ju was certainly grateful.  He had one very
curious method of showing his gratitude, namely, by
encircling the boy with his trunk and swaying him up
and down, and to and fro.

"Gently, Ju-ju," Frank would say sometimes;
"gently, Ju, old man."

Then Ju would set him quietly down and trumpet
with delight.

----

But as soon as it was dark, all was generally peaceful
enough about the fort, for after a residence of some
months in king Goo-Goo's country they had got quite
used to the cry of wild beasts, and even the roar of
lions did not disturb their slumbers.

But the nugget and the diamond--oh! these indeed.
Duncan's eyes used to sparkle with delight as they
were placed upon the table of an evening.

What possibilities did they not point to!  What joy
for the future seemed to scintillate from the diamond!
One night something that the king had said during
his visit to the fort suddenly flashed across Frank's
memory.

He almost startled both Conal and Duncan by the
eagerness with which he almost shouted:

"Cousins!" he cried, "I have the happiest thought
that ever I had.  Do you not remember that the king
refused to come into the fort because devils dwelt in a
hole beneath the floor!"

"Yes, yes, he did say so."

"Duncan, those devils are diamonds, and, it may be,
gold nuggets as well."

His comrades were thunder-struck apparently, but
they admitted that in all likelihood Frank's surmise
was correct.

"Then, boys," said Frank, "we shall open a devil
hole right here where we sit."

This proposal was agreed to, and the work would
have commenced the very next day had not a strange
adventure happened to Frank.

It may be observed that mostly all the terrible
adventures did happen to Frank.  Some people are
born unlucky, you know.

But next forenoon Duncan and he had gone towards
the forest for the purpose of shooting hyenas,
no great or very exalted sport, it is true, but they had
become numerous and bold of late, and needed scattering.

Duncan had followed a wounded monster some
distance for the sake of giving him his *congé*, when he
came back---- lo! Frank was gone.

For hours and hours Duncan searched all that
portion of the forest that he dared to enter, but in
vain.

But he found his comrade's gun, and at some little
distance his cap.

So he went sorrowfully home.

Further search was made next day, some of the
bravest of Goo-Goo's native soldiers assisting.

But no more trace of the lost Frank could be found.

A whole fortnight went past, and he was mourned
for as one dead, and even Carrambo gave up hopes.

Frank, he told them, must have been throttled by
the gorillas and hung up in a tree.

But lo! and behold, one forenoon who should appear
again *in propria persona*, but the laughing little
Cockney boy himself.

By the hand he led a little long-armed hairy gorilla,
that clung to him in terror when Viking began to
growl.

Jeannie, as she was called, sprang trembling into
Frank's arms, but he gently soothed her, and after
having a cup of coffee he told his marvellous story.[2]
It was briefly as follows:--

.. vspace:: 2

[1] This is no sailor's yarn, but founded on fact.

.. vspace:: 2

He had been captured by the awful gorillas, having
been first stunned by a blow from a club.  Then
carried deep into the forest and up into a very high
tree.  There he found a shelter, quite a hut in fact,
and far from being unkind to him, the gorillas fed
and tended him every day, only guarding him at night.

"And this is my little pupil," he added.  "Jeannie
was given me to educate, I suppose; but early this
morning the gorillas went off to do battle with some
neighbouring tribe, and Jeannie and I slipped down
the tree and ran for it.

"So here I am!"

"Heaven be praised!" cried Duncan with tears in his
eyes.  "You come to us as one risen from the dead."

"And what are you going to do with Jeannie?" asked
Conal.

"Oh!" said Frank, "Jeannie is a sweet child.  She
shall go with us wherever we go."

"I hope," said Conal, "her parents won't come for
her.  It might be rather inconvenient."

----

Two long months passed away, and our heroes were
almost weary of this lonesome and wild land.

But they had not been idle all the time of their
sojourn here.  On the contrary, they had commenced
to dig in the fort itself for buried treasure.

There was plenty of excitement about this, but for
many a weary week no luck attended their excavations.

The excitement, however, was somewhat like that
of gambling, and once begun they felt they could not
give it up until they came to something.

So they dug and dug.

But all in vain.

They still spent much of their time in fishing and
shooting, however.  These were necessary sports.  Food
they must have.

A rather gloomy time arrived later on, when they
had finally abandoned all hopes of finding any buried
treasure.  Tremendously heavy banks of clouds had
rolled up from the horizon and overspread the heavens.

Then with terrible thundering and vivid lightning
a short rainy season was ushered in.  The stream
became flooded, so that fishing was now out of the
question.

But Conal's little Lilywhite visited the fort every
day, and--though I cannot say where she found them--never
came without a fish, while just as often as
not she brought the boys a present of delightful fruit.

The rain-clouds were scattered at last, and soon the
country all around was greener and more lovely than
ever the wanderers had seen it, while the most
gorgeous of flowers seemed to spring into existence
in the short space of twenty-four hours.

Sport began again once more.

They still paid visits to the king, but these were
not so welcome now to his sable majesty, for the goo-goo
was all finished, and he cared for little else--with,
of course, the exception of human flesh.

Conal was exceedingly well developed, and under
certain conditions he would not have objected being
reminded of this.

But when the king one day felt his arm and said
something which Carrambo translated: "Ah, num-num! you
plenty good to eat," Conal hardly relished
the verdict.

But the great elephants became a source of much
pleasure to everyone.  They were so perfectly tractable
and manageable that the boys often went across
country with them.

This was practice, and Duncan had a meaning for it.

Well, one day as Frank was entering the living-room
of the fort, his eyes fell upon a curious mark
upon a stone, which proved to be an arrow bent
partly upwards.  He followed its direction with his
eye and on another stone found another arrow, then
two or three more, and finally there was a square
stone above the window with a cross over it, thus (cross symbol).

There were no more arrows.

Frank rushed out half frantic with joy.

"Duncan!  Conal!" he shouted.

They were coming quietly up the hill.

"Come quick, boys, I've made a discovery!"

Then he led them in and pointed the arrows, and
the stone marked with the (cross symbol).

"The diamonds are there," he said excitedly.

----

The stone, however, was so firmly cemented in that
it defied any ordinary methods to get it out.

So they determined to dine first, and go to work on
it afterwards.

But no one could think or speak of anything else
except their hopes of finding the treasure.

The boys had made cocoa-nut-oil lamps, and by the
little flicker of light these gave, they now set about
attacking the flint-hard cement in earnest.  They
chipped it out bit by bit, and hard, tedious work they
found it.

But they succeeded at last, and stood silent and
with a kind of awesome delight.  For there before
them was the glad sparkle of diamonds--a sparkle
that seemed to dim the light of their poor oil lamp.

"Boys," cried Duncan, "our fortune is made!"

The diamonds, however, were but few--eight in all--but
of great size, and apparently of high value,
although the boys were no judges.

The hole where they had lain was carefully
cemented all round, and besides the diamonds they
found here two or three nuggets of gold, and a tiny
brick of cement about six inches by four by three.

Just one word was engraved thereon.

That word was evidently Spanish, though partly
obliterated--ABRIR--

They hoped to find diamonds inside.

They did not, however; only a piece of parchment,
on which many words were written which they could
not understand.

They were just putting in the stone again, after
carefully storing away the diamonds and parchment,
when Viking sprang up fiercely barking, and with his
hair erect all along his spine.

At the same moment they perceived a terrible face
at the open window.

It was that of a savage in his war-paint--the lips
were painted red, great red rings were around each eye,
and cheeks and brow were daubed with spots of white.

"Idle curiosity, I suppose," said Duncan, "or a trick
to frighten us.  For now that the goo-goo is all
exhausted, I believe the king would like to see the very
last of us."

When Carrambo came next day they told him about
the terrible face at the window.

Carrambo considered for a moment, then shook his head.

"Dat no good," he said.  "You close all de debbil pit?"

"Yes," said Duncan.

"Dat bad sabage see somefing, sah!  He go tell de
king.  King make bobbery soon.  Plaps cut all you
troats, like he kill pore leetle Lilywhite to-mollow."

"What!" cried Conal, "kill Lilywhite!  If he dares,
I'll put a bullet through his fat and ugly phiz."

"Poh Lilywhite!" continued Carrambo, as if speaking
to himself.  "But," he added, "s'pose you come
to-night, I take you to de hut.  Lily come back heah;
den not die."

Conal at once agreed, and Carrambo came for him
some hours after sunset.

The butchering hut was at a considerable distance
from the main village, and, strange to say, unguarded.
But they crept in and found Lily bound hand and foot.

She was speedily rescued, and in an hour's time
they were all back at the fort.

But Conal had seen something that night which
seriously alarmed both him and his companions.

The savages were squatted out-of-doors around
fires, and all in war-paint.

They looked fierce and terrible.

Very busy, too, were they, sharpening horrid knives
and spears.

This was fearful intelligence to bring back, and
Carrambo, being asked what it all meant, did not
hesitate a moment in replying.

"It mean dis," he said; "dey tink dat you open de
debbil hole again.  To-mollow dey come plenty twick
and cut all you troats, foh shuah."

"Carrambo," said Duncan after a pause, "can you
guide us towards Lamoo?"

"Ees, sah, I guide you foh tlue!"

"Without having to go through that gorilla-haunted
forest?"

"Ees, sah, ees," was the quick reply.  "I myse'f not
go t'loo de folast."

"Well, Carrambo, send for the men who attend to
the elephants, and we shall start this very night."

The two elephant attendants were very sincere, and
when Duncan promised them clothes and beads and
many fine gifts, they readily consented to go with
them to the coast.

So packing was commenced without a moment's delay.

And none too soon, as things turned out.




.. _`the battle at the ford`:

CHAPTER VIII.--THE BATTLE AT THE FORD.
======================================

Even Viking seemed to understand the seriousness
of the situation, for while he watched with great
earnestness, not to say joy, the hurried preparations
for departure, he never once barked.

All was ready at last, and just a little before
midnight a start was made.

Nothing had been forgotten, and luckily the two
men who had charge of the elephants knew how to
load these.  On the first, a very large animal, was a
low but strong howdah, in which were packed the
instruments, spare arms, and ammunition, food, cooking
utensils, rugs and wraps, &c.  It was built low and
of wattle, not only for lightness' sake, but that it
might not catch against any trees they might have to
get under, during their long and dangerous march
towards the coast.

But a strange and curious band they formed, had
anyone been there to behold them.  Let us count and
see how many souls they numbered.  Six men in all,
Lilywhite and Jeannie, Viking, and the two elephants.
Eleven all told.

Why, I do believe I have given a soul to each.  But
just listen, boys, while I, the author of this book,
make a confession.  The generality of us poor upstarts
have an idea we are immensely superior to the beings
we are all so fond of calling "the lower animals".
We imagine--the majority of us, I mean--that these
were all made for our use, and they are badly used
accordingly.  What utter rot, and what a shame!
There is no great gulf fixed between us and them.
Their minds differ but in degree, not in kind, from our
own, and if we have a future existence, be sure and
certain that your pet dog or cat that died not long
ago--and whom you cannot forget--will live again
also.  Nothing good ever dies--only sin!

So I certainly should not think of withholding a
soul from those two marvellously-wise elephants, and
of course Viking was more wise and far higher in
the scale of intellect than many and many a
drink-besotted Englishman or Scotsman, whom I see making
heavy weather and steering badly as he marches
homewards of a Saturday night.

Well, Lilywhite and Jeannie occupied the other
howdah, and I'm sure I should not be mean enough
to deny the possession of a soul to either.

Pray, love the lower animals, boys, for, mind you,
the same God who made you made them.

   |   "Oh happy living things! no tongue
   |     Their beauty may declare;
   |   If springs of love gush from your heart
   |     You bless them unaware."

.. vspace:: 2

Well, this good Somali, Carrambo, was to be
depended upon.  That was evident.  He was indeed a
strange being in many ways, and held every life but
his own very cheap indeed, but he was going to be
faithful to his employers.  He had a certain code of
morality which he considered binding on him, else he
could have robbed our heroes and delivered them into
Goo-goo's hands very easily indeed.  But he had no
such thought.

He now walked in front, as the elephants felt their
way with cautious steps adown the hill towards a ford
in the stream, an attendant close by the head of each.

Carrambo did not mean to take his party through
that demon-haunted forest, but by a more circuitous
and safer route.

Well was it for all that they had abandoned the
fort and the hill at the time they did; for the savages
had worked themselves up into a kind of murderous
frenzy, and determined to attack and slay the whites
long before daybreak.

On looking behind them while still some distance
from the ford, our boys could hear their bloodthirsty
and maniacal howls, and knew they had reached the
fort and found it empty.

And then they knew they were being pursued!

The full moon had now arisen, and its pure silvery
light was bathing hill and glen and forest.  Even the
distant snow-clad mountain-peaks could be seen
sparkling like koh-i-noors in its radiance.

But here is the ford, and it is quickly negotiated.
None too quickly, however, for hardly are they on the
other bank ere the savages had reached the stream.

A battle was now unavoidable.

So all wheeled.

Spears were thrown in a cloud from the other side,
but each one missed its mark.

"Steady now, men!" cried Duncan.  "Be cautious!  Fire!"

It was a rattling and a most destructive volley they
poured into that savage mob.  The terrible shrieking
increased, but it was now mingled with howls of pain
and impotent rage.

Five more volleys were fired, and as the natives
were crowded close together the effect was fearful.

They reeled, they turned, and were about to seek
safety in flight when one painted wretch, more brave
than his fellows, waving his spear aloft, dashed into
the river and commenced to cross.

More than one were following, and had they succeeded
in getting over, the fight would doubtless have
had a sad and speedy ending.

But now something happened that at once turned
the tide of battle.

Vike had hitherto been only a very interested
spectator of the fight, but now, seeing that savage
half-way across, with a howl and a roar he leapt into
the river, and quickly ploughed his way towards him.

All the courage that the cannibal possessed deserted
him at once, when he saw what he thought was an
evil spirit coming towards him.  With a yell that
quite demoralized his companions behind, he dropped
his spear and tried to rush back.

A man cannot walk in deepish water so quickly as
a dog can swim, and so Viking seized him before he
had gone many yards.

Do savages faint, I wonder?  I never have seen
one "go off", as old wives call it, and require smelling-salts
and burned feathers.  Nevertheless this fellow
became insensible when Vike proceeded to shake him
out of his skin.

So the dog towed him in.

Carrambo drew his knife, and would have killed
him at once but for Duncan's interference.

"No, no," he shouted, "spare his life, Carrambo!"

Firing had never slackened, and now as the enemy
gave way it was more rapid and deadly than ever.
But in a few minutes' time there was not a savage
left on the opposite bank.  Only the dead, only the
wounded tossing and writhing in agony in the moonlight.

There was still a chance, however, of the attack
being renewed.  For this reason: King Goo-goo had
adopted a plan of his own for punishing those who
were defeated in battle, and invariably the first
half-dozen men who returned were clubbed to death.
Goo-goo was rather partial to brain fritters, and
cared very little whose brains contributed to this little
*entrée*.

And now the march was resumed.

Sometimes the little band was so close to the forest
that they could hear the howling and din of the
gorillas, at other times they were stretching over arid
tracts of a kind of prairie land.  Nor were these
silent and uninhabited.  Beasts of the desert were
leopards and even lions.

The former fled on sight, the latter did not dare to
attack.

Yet when one leapt up almost close to the foremost
elephants, and began slowly to retreat with head and
tail erect and growling like loudest thunder, bold
Carrambo levelled and fired.  The bullet must have
pierced the splendid beast's heart, for he at once
dropped dead in his tracks.

Carrambo was indeed a proud man now, and
although the boys knew the shot was only a fluke, he
was patted on the back and permitted to wear the
laurels he had won.

Yes, but Carrambo had the skin as well as the
laurels.  And this, after rubbing the inside well with
a kind of earth he found near by, and which is often
used as a preservative, he stowed it away in one of
the howdahs.

On and on they marched all that night, often having
to cross small rivers and streams, or journey long
distances by the banks of larger ones, which proved
unfordable, till at daylight they found themselves on
a tree-covered little hill, and here Duncan called a halt
for refreshment and for rest.

All were tired, except little Lilywhite.  For with
the child-gorilla in her arms she had slept most of
the way.

She was helped down.  Both the shes in fact, and
Jeannie soon jumped into Frank's arms, caressing him
in the most affectionate manner.

"Behold how she loves her father!" said the boy
laughing.

"Well," he added, "I would rather have one little
hairy gorilla who loved me, than a thousand hairless
bipeds of men who didn't give shucks for me."

To a stream close by ran Lily, and in a surprisingly
quick time returned with fish enough for all hands.

And these, one of the men having lit a fire, she
speedily cooked.

Lily was, indeed, a jewel in her own way--though
a black one.

After a hearty breakfast, of which fruit formed a
not unimportant portion, rugs were spread in the shade,
and leaving Carrambo on guard--his time for rest
would come afterwards--all lay down to snatch a few
hours' sleep.

Lily squatted at Conal's head, fanning him with a
broad leaf, till finally he slept.

Jeannie curled up beside Frank, and Viking with
Duncan.  So everyone was contented and happy.

I do not think the boys ever slept more soundly
than they did under the cool green shadow of those
trees, and when the sun had gone a certain distance
round, and Carrambo, acting on his instructions, awoke
them, they felt as fresh as meadow larks, and quite fit
to resume the journey.

"I hope we won't have any more fighting, boys,"
said Duncan.

"Why not?" said Frank the Cockney.  "I think
fighting is good fun.

"Especially," he added, "when you win."

"That's just it, Frank; but the bother is, that if we
are hard pressed, the other fellows will win next time,
because our cartridges would soon be all expended."

"Let us hope for the best," said Conal.  "We have
plenty of ammunition for our revolvers."

"True, Conal; but when you are near enough to
shoot a savage with a revolver, he is near enough to
scupper you with his spear."

They encamped that night close to the banks of a
sandy-bottomed river, which Duncan said looked as if
it contained gold.  And once more Lilywhite assumed
the responsibility of cooking.

Then, keeping the fire still alight to keep wild beasts
at bay, the boys left Vike on watch and curled up.

In spite of the warm attentions of scores of very
musical mosquitoes they slept long and soundly, and
daylight was almost breaking before they awoke.

On and on they journeyed day by day, and many
and strange were their adventures among wild beasts
and wilder men.  But although our heroes always
showed a bold front when trouble seemed rising, they
found it safest and best, if possible, to make friends
with the different tribes they came into contact with.

The beads they still possessed went a long way to
cement friendship.

They had been on the road for over a month, for
they did not hurry, knowing the advantage of harbouring
their strength in case of having to fight for dear
life itself.

One day about this time, after crossing a high and
desert upland, they descended a hill and found
themselves among a very strange people indeed, and in a
strangely beautiful country.

As the inhabitants were friendly, Duncan resolved
to stay with them for a time, that all might recruit
their health, and that Conal might regain his.

The poor lad, in a skirmish with some savages that
had taken place farther inland, had been wounded by
a poisoned arrow, and although he appeared to have
recovered, the wound had broken out afresh, and he
was now in so low a condition, that he had to be carried
on a bed of grass made for him in one of the howdahs.

A cool grass hut was set apart for the poor white
boy, as the natives called him, and Lily was a most
attentive nurse to him.  But indeed all the people
near by were unremitting in their attentions, not only
to Conal, but to everyone in the camp.

This was a country of villages, scattered here and
there wherever the water was most plentiful for
themselves and the cattle they owned.  But scattered
though these were, and but sparsely inhabited, yet if
the tocsin of war sounded, they speedily flocked to one
standard to repel an invading foe.  It was a real
republic, owning no king or chief, and placing the law
in the hands of their elders in virtue of their age and
wisdom.

As there was perfect peace and good understanding
between these simple pastoral natives and Duncan's
little band, the latter were very happy indeed.

Conal got slowly well, but all hands had to remain
in this happy land for nearly six weeks before the
journey could be renewed.

And poor little Lilywhite stayed here for better or
for worse.

Here is how it happened.  Shortly before Duncan
was about to resume the march towards the big river
and city of Lamoo, Carrambo one day came forward,
leading a tall and rather ungainly young savage, and
addressed Conal as follows:--

"Dis dam young rascal he say you all de same's one
fadder to Lily.  He want to mally Lily.  He gib tree
goat foh Lily."

Here he struck the suitor under the chin.

"Hol' you head up, Choo-ka!" he cried.  "De white
man no eat de likes ob you!"

Choo-ka would have blushed if he hadn't been black.

"Is Lily willing?" said Conal, laughing.

"Oh ees, sah, she plenty willin' 'nuff."

"Well, consider it all arranged."

So Conal lost his nurse, and Choo-ka gained a bride.
As, however, the girl had taken a great fancy for
Jeannie, Frank gave the gorilla to her as a wedding
gift, and Duncan presented her with a string of
beautiful beads.

And so they were married, and no doubt lived, or
will live, for my story does not date back any very
extraordinary number of years, happy ever after.

The journey was now resumed, and with the exception
of some adventures with pythons and alligators,
they reached the river without much further trouble,
and in a few days after this struck the outlying
huts of the large Arab city of Lamoo, and were received
in the most hospitable way, not only by the Portuguese,
but by the Arabs, and even by the sultan himself.

A question now arose as to what they should do
with the elephants.  It would be impossible to take
these to sea with them.

But a very wealthy Arab merchant offered to buy
them, and after a considerable deal of haggling he
became the purchaser, and the boys were paid in gold.

----

They had half expected to find a gun-boat here, but
were disappointed.

So after waiting for a whole week, they paid poor
Carrambo off, after telling him that they meant to
revisit his country another day and open the "debbil
pits" in spite of old Goo-goo, then took passage in a
large Arab dhow for Zanzibar, with all their goods and
chattels, their gold and diamonds.

Two weeks after this there landed on the white
sandy beach of that place, three as jolly and as happy
boys as anyone ever shook hands with.




.. _`the very identical bird`:

CHAPTER IX.--THE VERY IDENTICAL BIRD.
=====================================

Zanzibar!  The spotless sand, on which the blue
waves broke lazily into foam, sparkled like silver
in the rays of the noonday sun.  Higher up were the
walls of many a palatial-looking building, consulates,
most of them, and each one flying the flag of its
country, and with, here and there, gigantic
cocoa-palms waving their dark-green foliage between.

Conspicuous above all, the palace of the Sultan, with
above it the blood-red Arab flag.

There were many ships in the roadstead; some
men-o'-war too, but none belonging to Her Majesty
the Queen.

This was slightly disappointing, for our heroes had
been told that the little gun-boat was here, and they
longed with an indescribable longing to know if their
dear friends had been rescued alive from the
uninhabited island.

During their voyage from Lamoo--the town lies
about fifteen miles inland, and on the banks of the
river, and is navigable to vessels of light draught all
the way up--the Arab skipper had been both courteous
and kind to the young fellows, and when, after the
landing of their chattels, they bade him good-bye,
they felt truly sorry to part with him.

There were plenty of willing hands on the beach to
carry their goods to the hotel.  Indeed, they would
have carried the boys themselves, and Viking too, had
a few pice been offered them as a reward.

But here is the hotel.  It has not been a long walk,
albeit the narrow streets have been--as they always
are--crowded to excess with Arabs, Parsees, Hindoos,
Portuguese, Indians, and niggers of every size and
shade.  Through this crowd they had to jostle their
way with many a shout of "Sameela!  Sameela!"  For
neither the streets themselves nor those who fill them
have the sweet savour of--

   |   "A primrose by the river's brim".

.. vspace:: 2

Yes, here is the hotel, and though the street in front
is fairly wide, the hostelry itself is not over-inviting.
But the landlord, who happens to be a Frenchman,
gives them a right hearty welcome, and asks them
immediately what they will have for "deenir".

"Oh," said Duncan, "what can we have?"

"Eberytings, gentlemans; soup, feesh, entree, curry."

"Ah! let us have some real curry.  No, not any
soup; we want solids.  And as soon as you are ready,
we are."

"Sartainly, gentlemans."

"And now," continued Duncan, "we would like to
see our bedrooms."

"I have put your luggash all in one big, big room.
Three beds it have, 'cause I know young officers like
to talk much togedder."

"Very thoughtful of you indeed!"

"And dare is a bat'room just off it."

"How luxurious!" cried Frank.  "Why, boys, we
are back once more into civilization!"

They certainly enjoyed their bath, as well as a
change of raiment.

"Now, if we had some coffee," said Frank "we--"

He had no time to complete the sentence, for just
as he was talking, the landlord re-entered the room
smiling.

He bore, on a level with his forehead, a tray with a
pot of the most fragrant coffee, flanked by cups.

Besides this, there was a huge basin of goat's milk.

"For your beautiful dog, sir officer."

Duncan thanked him most heartily, and Viking
seemed most grateful also.

"I sincerely love all de animiles in de world," said
the Frenchman.  "One gentleman stay here now.  Hab
been stay many mont's, with one leetle blackamoor
servant.  He possess one very curious bird.  Ha, ha!
'Scuse me laugh.  But ven I play on my little flute,
den the bird and de boy dance.  It is all so funny!"

The boys exchanged glances.

"Can it be possible?" said Duncan.

"I declare," cried Frank, "I feel fidgety all over."

"And I," said Conal, "am cramful of nerves."

"Landlord, can you introduce us to the bird and the
boy?"

"Sartainly, gentlemans.  Follow, if you will be so
kind."

He led them down and down a flight of stone stairs
that seemed to have no end.

Then the young fellows followed him into a large
room.

"Gol-a-mussy, gemmans, has you risen again flom
de grabe?"

It was little Johnnie Shingles, and none but he.

"Grunt, grunt! squeak, squawk, and squawl!"  Up
rushed Pen himself.

Yes, the very identical bird!

"Wowff!" cried Vike, entering fully into the excitement.

"Wowff, wowff, wonders will never cease."

Then out came Monsieur T.'s flute.

And Monsieur struck up a merry lilt.

Up went the great bird's flappers, stretched out
were Johnnie's arms, and next moment they were
whirling together round and round that stone-floored
room, in surely as daft a dance as ever yet was seen.

It was just at this moment, and while all three boys
were convulsed with laughter, that a third person put
in an appearance, and now for a time everything else
paled before the pleasure of once more meeting, and
grasping the hand of brave Master-mariner Talbot
himself.

----

What anyone said for the matter of a minute or
two is not worth recording, consisting, as it did,
chiefly of ejaculations, and little brief sentences of
wonder and pleasure.

"Of course, you will dine with us, captain," said
Duncan at last, "for we have much to tell you, and
your story will all be perfectly new to us."

"Another plate, landlord."

"Sartainly, sah."

To say that this was a happy meeting would be to
print a mere commonplace.

It was more than happy, but it was agreed that
they should not tell each other the story of their
adventures, till dinner had been discussed.

Their anxiety, I may tell you at once, reader, did
not prevent our heroes doing ample justice to the
delightful little meal that the Frenchman had set
before them.

He waited upon them himself, too, and presently
informed them that dessert was laid upstairs.
Duncan opened his eyes wonderingly.

"What!" he cried, "do you serve dessert in the bedrooms?"

Talbot laughed.

"No," he said, "not in the bedroom, but on the
upper deck.  Follow me, and see for yourself."




.. _`the welcome home`:

CHAPTER X.--THE WELCOME HOME.
=============================

Up and up and up!  They were getting heavenwards,
and presently found themselves in quite
an aërial paradise.

On the roof, but covered with awning it was.
From this place they could see all over the city and
catch glimpses of the blue ocean itself, to say nothing
of the greenery of the far-off woods.

But here were splendid palms in pots, flowers of
every hue, orange and lemon trees, whose cool green
foliage refreshed the eyes that gazed upon them.
Settees or lounges also, mild cigarettes on the tiny
tables, iced sherbet, mangoes, pine-apples, guavas, and
great purple grapes.

And presently a waiter brought cups of black
coffee, of far better taste and flavour than any they
had ever drank on British soil.

"What a treat after our hard and terrible life in
the land of the gorilla!"  This from Conal.

"But, my dear boy," said Frank, "the gorilla is
really a gentleman compared to the cannibal king
Goo-goo.  But now, Captain, we are all anxious to
hear your story."

Captain Talbot did not reply at once.  He simply
smiled and smoked, leaning well back in his rocking
chair with his eyes on the curling wreaths, just as he
used to do of an evening on the deck of the dear old
*Flora M'Vayne*.

"I am sorry to disappoint you, my brave lads, but
the real truth is that I've got no story to tell.

"You know," he continued, "what our sufferings
were before you left."

"Alas! yes," said Duncan.

"They grew worse instead of better after you
sailed away.  More men died.  Died, I think, of fever
brought on by thirst.  I, too, should have died but for
that child Johnnie.  I do believe he brought me a
portion, and a large one too, of his own allowance of
water.

"Then it seemed to be all darkness, all night, and
when I opened my eyes at last I was no longer on
the little island but at sea.

"I was lying under an awning on the quarter-deck
of a tiny British man-o'-war called the *Pen-Gun*."

"But," said Duncan, "soon after we left you we
sighted and communicated with a big steamer, and as
far as we could make out she started off to your
rescue."

"Well, she came not near us.  But as long as I live
I shall never forget the unremitting kindness and
attention bestowed upon us by the officers of the
*Pen-Gun*."

"And Morgan the mate?"

"Morgan has gone to England with the remainder
of my crew, but after hearing from you through the
captain of the bold *Pen-Gun* I determined to wait
and wait, and had you not put in an appearance in
another week's time, I was about to undertake an
expedition into your charming King Goo-goo's land
and effect your rescue by hook or by crook.

"That is all my little story; and now for yours."

----

It was late that night before Talbot and his boys
parted, for the tale of their adventures took a much
longer time to tell.

Every word of that story was of the greatest
interest to the listener, but when they told him about
the gold and the diamonds, and showed him their
specimens, he must needs jump up from the chair and
once more shake hands all round.

"Boys," he said, "you have made your fortunes.  I
do not mean to say that it is here, but there are more
diamonds and there is more gold where these came from.

"Leave it to me, lads, but you may give yourselves
the credit of being brave pioneers to a country bound,
in the not far distant future, to be one of the richest
and greatest in the world.

"As soon as we get back once more," he continued,
"to the shores of Britain, we shall set about forming
a great company, and this will speedily open up a
road to your Goo-goo land, and open up the "debbil
pits" also, in spite of all that wretched king shall
urge against it."

"But we shall not call it Goo-goo Land," said Frank.

"No?  Well, I shall leave the naming of it to you."

Then something very faint in the shape of a blush
suffused the young fellow's cheeks for a moment.

"You know, Captain Talbot," he said, "my dear
cousins know also how fond of little Flora I am!"

"Oh! she won't be so little by the time we get
home," said Conal, laughing.

"Well, anyhow, when she grows bigger and grows
a little older, she shall be my wife.

"Oh! you needn't smile; she has promised, and so
after her I am going to call our newly-discovered
El Dorado--Floriana."

----

We are back again in bonnie Scotland, and it was
Conal himself who exclaimed, when bonnie Glenvoie,
for the first time since coming home, and as he was
nearing it, spread itself out before him:

   |   "O Caledonia! stern and wild,
   |   Meet nurse for a poetic child!
   |   Land of brown heath and shaggy wood,
   |   Land of the mountain and the flood,
   |   Land of my sires! what mortal hand
   |   Can e'er untie the filial band
   |   That knits me to thy rugged strand!"

.. vspace:: 2

They had driven a great part of the way to
Glenvoie, but had been seen while still a long way off
coming down the glen, and not only the stalwart chief
himself, but Frank's father, with about half a dozen
dogs, came out to meet them.

Many of the dogs were old hill-mates of Viking's,
so that was all right, and a glorious gambol they had.

But just as the principal actors and most of the
company crowd the stage before the curtain falls, so
they do at the end of a story.

If I tell you that the reunion was a happy one, I
can do but little more.

Poor to some considerable extent both Colonel
Trelawney and the laird were, but I speak the honest
truth when I say that had their brave boys returned
penniless and hatless, they would have been sure of
a hearty Highland welcome under the old roof-tree.

Yes, Flora had grown very much too, but she had
also grown more beautiful--I do not like the word
"pretty"--and as she bade her brothers and her cousin
welcome home, the tears were quivering on her eyelids
and a flush of joy suffused her face.

And soon our young fellows settled down, and all
the old wild life of wandering on the hills and of
sport began again.  For indeed the boys needed a rest.

Little Johnnie Shingles and that droll Old Pen took
up their abode in the servants' hall, but were often
invited into the drawing-room of an evening, when,
to the music of Frank's fiddle, the boy and Mother
Pen brought down the house, so to speak, by their
inimitable waltzing.  This was fun to everybody else,
and even to Johnnie himself.  But while whirling
around in the mazy dance, with his head leant
lovingly on the nigger-boy's shoulder, Pen never
looked more serious in his life.

A great ball was given shortly after the return of
our heroes, and Glenvoie House looked very gay
indeed.

While dancing that night with Flora, Frank took
occasion to say to his partner, in language that was
certainly more outspoken than romantic:

"Mind, Flo, you and I are going to get hitched
when we're a bit older."

"Hitched, Frank?"

"Well, spliced then.  You know what I mean."

   |   "She looked down to blush, she looked up to sigh,
   |   "With a smile on her lips and a tear in her eye."

.. vspace:: 2

I throw in these two lines of poetry just because
they look pretty, and I sha'n't charge my publisher a
penny for them either.  But, to tell the truth--a
thing I always do except when--but never mind--Flora
neither blushed nor sighed.

"That means getting married, doesn't it?" she said.
"Well, we'll see; but do keep step, Frank!"

And this was all the wooing.

But years have fled away since then.  Five, six,
nearly seven of them.

The company was started.  The parchment the
boys had found in the old fort gave the clue to the
situation.  The "debbil pits" were opened, and are,
even as I write, being worked with success.

The boys are men!

Boys will be men, you know!

They are fairly wealthy, and happy also.  Not that
wealth makes people happy, only it helps.

Frank is spliced.

And where do you think Flora and he spent their
long, long honeymoon?  Yes, you are right.  In
Floriana, in the country of gold and diamonds.  The
land of the great Goo-goo.

.. vspace:: 6

.. pgfooter::