But they were not kept waiting long. A quarter of a mile farther on the coast trended round to the east, and there the open sheet of water became encumbered with masses of ice, upon several of which Jakobsen, whose eyes were wonderfully good and admirably trained, pointed out walrus asleep or on the watch with head thrown back.
That was enough. Andrew uttered no more gibes, but tugged at his oar with the rest, and as silently; for all knew how much depended upon their surprising the wary beasts.
“Have you ever shot walrus, sir?” asked Johannes suddenly.
“Never,” replied the captain; “but I think I shall be able to hit one.”
“Of course, sir. What I meant was, that as soon as you have hit one it will make for the water and sink. So do not be surprised after you have shot if I harpoon the beast to save it from being lost.”
“They do sink, then?”
“Yes, sir; fat as they are they go right down. I have seen many a one lost after being shot.”
“But they are so fat,” said the captain. “An animal laden like that with blubber ought surely to float.”
“You would think so, sir,” replied the Norseman, who had now replaced the spear along the thwarts and taken up a harpoon; “but they do not float.”
“Well, don’t let us lose any if you can prevent it,” said the captain; and Johannes smiled, and then answered Steve’s questions, as he busily made ready for the coming fight by thrusting the lance heads well up into the box which protected them from injury right up toward the bows, and then examined the harpoon head and shank round which the line was firmly secured.
“How long is the line, Johannes?”
“About fifteen fathoms, sir.”
“Oh, but isn’t that too short? Suppose the walrus comes to the end of the line after being harpooned. It would pull the boat under.”
“No, sir,” said the man, smiling, “because then we should cut the line.”
“But that would be a pity. Why not have it longer?”
“Because it would only be in the way, sir. A walrus seldom takes out fifteen fathoms when it dives after being struck.”
“How’s that?”
“Before it has run out that much it has to come up again to breathe.”
“I see. But suppose it swims away along the surface?”
“Ah! you’ll see then, sir,” said Johannes, smiling, “if I am lucky enough to harpoon one.”
Steve was silent for the time as, in obedience to the captain’s orders, the men rowed gently toward a huge bull which lay on the ice, displaying a magnificent pair of tusks. But suddenly something took the boy’s attention, and he seized the Norseman’s arm.
“Look!” he cried. “How lucky I saw! That harpoon is not fastened to the shaft.”
“No, sir. It ought not to be.”
“But why? Won’t it come off when you throw it?”
“I hope so, sir; we don’t want it broken. Don’t you see that the line is fastened to the head? We want the shaft to come out and float on the water, so that we can pick it up and use it again. It is almost the same as with the harpoons for the beluga.”
“Oh, I see. But wouldn’t they be better if they were made thicker?”
“No, sir,” said the man, giving the harpoon head a twist and taking it easily from the pointed end of the light pine shaft and replacing it. “That is just right, sir.”
Steve gave the Norseman a droll look.
“I say,” he whispered, “what an ignorant fellow you must think me!”
“No,” said the man, smiling. “You did not understand the things that long experience has taught us are the best; but they are very simple, and you know them now.”
“Yes, I know now. But tell me one more thing, and then I will not bother you any more.”
“Quick, then,” said the Norseman good-humouredly.
“I want to know how near you have to get before you throw.”
“We don’t throw the harpoon at all if we can help it,” replied Johannes, “but get close enough to thrust it into the seal, give it a twist to entangle it in the tough hide, and draw out the shaft.”
“Oh, look!” said Steve in a disappointed tone; for, when they were about a hundred yards away, the big bull raised his head, stared at them, and then shuffled off the block on which he lay, gave two or three heavy flops, and slid down softly into the water.
“Never mind, sir,” said Johannes calmly; “there is another yonder with finer tusks—that one to the left; and you can steer the boat so that it will be out of sight till we are quite close.”
The captain’s face, which had looked gloomy, brightened, and he followed out the instructions given; while Skene, after twice over being on the point of barking loudly at the huge beasts scattered about amongst the icefloes, appeared as if he grasped the position and the meaning of the talking-to he had received, and stood there with his feet upon one of the thwarts well out of the way of the harpooner and his line, and watched the walrus with his ears quivering and playing about, taking evidently as much interest in the proceedings as his master.
This time the boat passed several of the heavy animals, which stared at them stupidly, but did not attempt to stir, so that there would have been no difficulty twice over in striking and making fast; but the huge fellow with the grand tusks was the one they aimed for, the walrus they passed having shorter or broken teeth.
“How is it so many have their teeth damaged?” whispered Steve.
“No dentists up here to attend to them,” said the doctor, who had heard the query.
“Some break them fighting,” said Johannes seriously, for he did not comprehend Mr Handscombe’s allusion; “but very often they snap off the points through digging, them into the ice.”
“What for?”
“To drag themselves up out of the water,” replied Johannes with a look of surprise. “Now, hist!”
Steve was silent, and sat with his rifle across his lap watching the animals, several of those swimming about being young of various sizes, great, fat, shapeless creatures, more like inflated india-rubber sacks cut short than anything else.
And all this time the boat and men kept well behind a large piece of the ice-floe, which screened them effectually from the great bull. But now the time had come when they would have to row round into sight, and the captain sat ready with his piece cocked, the doctor also being prepared to follow if necessary; and, seeing this, Steve softly raised the hammers of his own rifle, and sat prepared.
Johannes noted his action, and gave an approving nod.
The boat glided round the end of the floe, and there, some sixty yards away, lay the massive bull.
The huge animal had no idea of their approach till now, when they learned the fact that it was evidently the sentinel of the herd, for it drew itself right up with a look of surprise, and the captain raised his piece.
“Not yet, sir!” cried Johannes. “Closer, closer!”
The men pulled, and they saw the bull go through some singular evolutions, as if it were kicking at something beyond and out of sight. It was so, for instantly three more walrus started into sight and plunged into the water, and, the alarm being spread, the occupants of other masses of ice and the edge of the principal floe slid and splashed heavily in, their leader having evidently cried, “Danger! Every one for himself!”
As soon as the grand old sentinel had done his duty, he prepared, with an activity not to have been expected, to take care of himself, all of this having been the work of half a minute; but the boat was now within thirty yards, and gliding nearer, when the captain fired two shots rapidly one after the other.
“Pull!” roared Johannes, and the men dragged at their stout ashen blades; and as the bull, which did not seem even staggered by the heavy bullets, plunged down from the side of the floe, the Norseman reached it and drove the harpoon right into its back, giving a twist with his wrist, and drawing back with the thin pine shaft, as the line ran rapidly out over the bows, following the walrus which had disappeared.
“No, missed!” cried one of the Norsemen from the second boat; and as Steve glanced in that direction he saw that they were pulling hard, apparently after nothing, for not a walrus could be seen.
Then, with Johannes erect in the bows, armed with his great lance, the boat was pulled in the direction in which the line was running out, and for a moment Steve was startled, for all at once a hundred heads almost together appeared above the surface some distance before them, there was a burst of sniffs and snorts as the animals took breath and instantly dived down again, their flippers appearing above the surface, and then they were gone.
The great bull appeared, too, and dived once more before the line was run out; and when the herd, after which the other boat was in full chase, had appeared in the same way two or three times, breathed, and dived again, Jakobsen began to manipulate the line so as to get a pull on the frightened beast, in whose tough hide the harpoon held fast. The consequence was that, while the mate was urging on the men in the other boat, the captain’s was being towed and the men lying on their oars.
Just then there was a shout from the other boat, for the last of the flying herd had been overtaken by hard pulling; and, watching his opportunity so as to pick out a finely tusked head, the Norse harpooner there had made a successful thrust, and they, too, were fast in a great bull.
The end for the poor beast first struck was now near; it was growing tired of trying to overtake the flying herd, which appeared and disappeared with wonderful regularity and exactness. It had the boat to drag as well as to force its mighty carcass through the water, and Jakobsen drew upon the line again and again, so as to get within striking distance when the animal ceased to make efforts to dive down.
“Let me come forward and send a bullet through it,” said the doctor.
“Better not, sir. It may charge us, and we can stop it better with our lances. If it got its tusks over the side, we should either have a plank ripped out or be overturned.”
“Do it your own way,” said the captain; and the words had hardly left his lips when Jakobsen stooped and rapidly picked up his lance, for the head of the walrus appeared above the water with its great six-inch bristles standing out above the gleaming tusks. And now it seemed as if it were determined to fly no more, but to wreak its vengeance upon its pursuers. With a loud, snorting noise it made a rush for the boat, its eyes looking wild and red, and the whole aspect of the great visage threatening to a degree.
Steve’s heart seemed to give a bound, for he was close to the bows, and only a few feet from the terrible-looking monster. Involuntarily he raised and presented his piece; but Johannes uttered a warning growl that sounded exactly like that emitted by Skene, who backed away amongst the men, snarling and showing his teeth, as if saying, “I’ve got plenty of fight in me, but it isn’t fair to expect me to tackle an arctic sea-elephant like that.”
Then the huge beast was close up, with head raised, and the gleaming tusks about to strike the boat’s bows, when, whish! crish! two great lances were driven into its breast. The recoil thrust the boat away from where the water was tossed wildly about, the animal struggling frantically, and recovering itself sufficiently from the two terrible thrusts, which dyed the clear water with crimson, to make another charge at the boat, but only to be met in the same way.
There was another desperate struggle, the poor creature scattering the water with its great flippers, and the next minute, to Steve’s great relief, it was dead and beginning to sink; but Johannes seized the line, and deftly threw a ring round the walrus’s neck, gave it a few twists, and made the monster fast, in case the harpoon should after all give way, as it had with the other boat, which was now returning disconsolate, it being impossible to overtake the swimming and diving herd. Then all at once the animals turned, for something happened which brought them tearing back through the water as rapidly as they had tried to escape; and now, as they came swimming back, it was without any diving, but with serried front, eyes flashing, and tusks gleaming, in a grand charge upon the boats, and with a force sufficient to tear them into matchwood and drown their occupants in the first rush.
The reason for the change of front from flight to a brave attack was this. As the second boat was returning with her disappointed crew, they drove back a member of the herd that had been left behind in the shape of a calf, which, to escape this second boat, swam and dived with such bad choice of direction that, unseen before, it all at once popped its droll-looking head out of the water close to where Steve was sitting looking at their huge prize. Possibly it was the dead walrus which had attracted the young one and brought it so close.
Skene was the first to see the absurd-looking little creature, and, planting his feet upon the gunwale, he barked himself into a state of terrible excitement, driving the young walrus into hiding beneath the water, but only to come up again from time to time to breathe.
The young walrus could not understand the remarks made about its personal appearance, or else in all probability it would have swum away; for the shapeless creature was dubbed “bladder of lard,” “skin of oil,” “prize pig,” and the like, though Steve stuck to the notion of its being like a short india-rubber sack, blown full of wind, so little did head or flippers project from the blubber-distended body.
“Oh, I say, Johannes, couldn’t you catch it?” cried Steve. “The poor thing believes that is its mother.”
“Yes, sir, and will not go away till we begin to row.”
“Couldn’t you catch it?”
“Oh yes, sir, I could catch it, I daresay,” replied the Norseman, “if the captain wishes.”
“But I do not wish,” said Captain Marsham. “What do you want with a young walrus?”
“To bring up and tame,” replied Steve, with the impression the while that he was saying something rather absurd.
“Have a big one,” cried the doctor, “and let’s form a zoological garden!”
“I don’t see anything to laugh at,” said Steve. “It would be very interesting to watch the habits of the curious animal, and we’ve driven its mother away. What would become of it, Johannes, if it is left?”
“Bear,” said the Norseman laconically.
“There!” cried Steve, looking at the captain.
“Try and catch it,” said the latter quietly; and, giving Steve a smile and a nod, the Norseman took hold of the end of a coil of line, made a noose, and, watching his opportunity, threw it cleverly over the head end of the calf.
“Hurrah! got him first throw!” cried Steve. “No: gone!”
For the rope on being tightened glided over the slippery hide and came away, while the calf dived, turning over like a round cork float, showing its hind flippers, and then it was out of sight.
“There’s nothing to catch hold of, sir,” said Johannes good-humouredly, as he stood there with the noose gathered up in one hand, the coils of line in the other; “but he’ll be up again directly.”
Johannes stood so quick and watchful that, as the calf’s head popped out of the water again, a ring of rope fell round it and was tightened at once, but with no better fortune. Again and again the Norseman tried; but the little creature was too slippery, and gave way, so that it was like trying to lasso a huge egg bobbing about on the surface.
“Give it up,” said the captain at last; but it was just as the ring of line fell once more round the plump, swimming and diving object, and Steve’s feeling of disappointment gave way to delight, for fortune smiled upon the Norseman’s efforts at last, or else the little walrus threw one flipper over the rope and hugged it to its fat side, with the result that the line was tightened with a snatch, and its egg-like body was suddenly compressed into a dumb-bell shape.
“Got him!” cried Steve joyfully, and Skene nearly jumped overboard in his excitement, barking the next minute furiously, while his master stopped his ears; for the calf, as it was dragged toward the boat, first set up a whimper, and then broke out into a series of snorts, barks, and squeals, which gave it a strong resemblance to a pig being coerced into quiescence while undergoing the ornamentation to its nose known as ringing.
At the first dismal squeal, but unnoticed by the occupants of the boat, the walrus herd stopped its retreat, at the second it turned, and at the third it came rushing back as fast as it could tear through the water.
But little heed was paid to this in the excitement of dragging the heavy calf over the side; for it “gave” in every way. There seemed to be nothing to grasp or of which to get a good grip, while to have hauled the animal in by the thin line looked like trying to cut it in two, as a shopkeeper does soap or cheese. But at last Andrew “got a han’,” as he called it, of one hind flipper, Jakobsen of one of the fore flippers, Steve hauled in the line, and Johannes reached over and caught the other fin-like projection. Then there was a haul all together, and the squealing and snorting object rolled over the gunwale and down into the bottom of the rocking boat with what Hamish called “a squelch.”
By that time a warning cry was heard from Mr Lowe’s boat, and the party with the captain gazed in dismay at the fierce-looking herd charging down.
“Quick! oars!” cried the captain, and the men scrambled into their places with a scared look on their faces.
“It’s the youngling’s cries has brought them down,” said Johannes calmly.
“You know these brutes of old,” said the captain. “Will they attack us?”
“They’ll come close up, sir; but I don’t think there’s anything to mind, or I would say throw the calf overboard.”
“Yes, that might be the best thing to do.”
“But I would not yet, sir. We’ll see. These things look very big and fierce, and sometimes they can fight, but it’s mostly bully and noise.”
The rifles were ready, and the two Norsemen seized their lances, ready to repel any savage attack; while for a time the position of the party appeared to be one of extreme peril. But in this case it proved that, strong as was the desire of the animals to help and protect one of their young in trouble, it did not go far enough to make them run much risk. The Norsemen in both boats were ready to add to their take by lancing any aggressive individual; but the herd kept at a safe distance, calming down when the pig-like creature in the boat was quiet, and bursting out into furious snortings and shows of attack whenever the unhappy little creature remembered its trouble and burst forth into a wail.
“There!” cried Johannes at last; “there is no danger. A few splashes of the oar will keep them off. Shall we harpoon another?”
“No,” said the captain; “we will be content with what is done. We have the bear to get as well, so there is plenty of work.”
The second boat threw a line on board, which was made fast, and with this help and the stout arms in their own boat, the dead walrus was towed along the open waterway to where the bear had been found. Then busy hands went to work skinning and flensing with such good will that at last, with both boats most unpleasantly loaded, as the doctor called it, they rowed back to the chasm and reached the ship in safety, well satisfied with their day’s work.
There was no aggressive walrus herd to make its appearance now, for, in spite of an occasional wail from the captive, none of its relatives attempted to enter the passage through to the fiord, and so the tremendous uproar which arose as soon as an attempt was made to get the captive on board the steamer, and which echoed loudly from the sides of the cliffs, was laughed at merrily, the men thoroughly enjoying the task of hoisting the slippery, yielding creature on deck. This was achieved by laying a tarpaulin in the bottom of the boat, rolling the cub over, lashing the corners together, and hoisting and hauling it up to the gangway, where a little more snorting and barking of a pig-like nature resulted in the little animal settling down in the bows penned up by a couple of gratings, and going to sleep in the warm sun, evidently thoroughly appreciating the dry nature of its new bed.
Upon the principle of making hay while the sun shone, the little imprisoned party worked hard amongst the walrus, and with so much success, that there seemed to be no doubt about the cargo defraying the expenses of the expedition, and, if it should prove necessary, paying for a second voyage the next year.
“If we can get out,” said Steve one day, when the subject was being discussed in the cabin.
“We must take that for granted, my lad,” said the captain. “There are many reasons why it is possible for the mass of ice at the bottom of the fiord to give way. The outside must always be weakening, and the pressure on the inner increasing by the constant flow of water into the fiord, which is rising day by day. That passage does not take off half as much as appears to come in somewhere from the rocks, and sooner or later this must break through the ice. If it comes to the worst, we must turn engineers and block the passage by blasting down stones in that narrowest part till we have dammed the way out. We should then turn this fiord into a lake, which would, sooner or later, burst down its southern bank.”
There was a little talk that evening, too, about the sun, whose career above the horizon was coming to an end, the height at noon being far less, and at midnight so close down to the horizon that it ceased to shine down into the glen, the rays being hid by the glacier. This fact brought forth serious thoughts, for it suggested the time when the brief summer would be drawing to a close, and the approach of that long period during which the arc described by the sun grew lower and lower until it ceased to appear at all, and then came the worst of the wintry time—that when, saving the rays of the moon, stars, and aurora, there was no light.
“I don’t want to suggest difficulties,” said the doctor suddenly; “but suppose, when the time for fine weather to be at an end comes, there is no chance of our escape—always supposing that we have seen nothing of the Ice Blink people—what then?”
“In plain English,” said the captain, “we must make up our minds to pass the winter here.”
“The winter?” cried Steve.
“Yes, my lad. Why not? We have snug, warm quarters, which we can make warmer, for I saw traces of coal up yonder in the valley close to the glacier. Food is plentiful, and what men have done before men can do again.”
“If there is no help for it, we must submit,” said the doctor.
“Better submit than venture to sea in these two boats,” said the captain; “and in case of the first emergency, I propose that we begin exploring the land now. We have thoroughly examined all the coast that we could reach north and south.”
“And hunt as we go?” said the doctor.
“And hunt as we go, so as to lay in a good store of fresh meat. This will freeze and keep any length of time. I don’t think our prospects are so bad—that is, for seamen.”
“I thought we should have found some trace of our friends,” said the doctor; but the captain shook his head.
“It is all the merest chance,” he said; “we have nothing to guide us. They might have been at Jan Mayen, or up on the north coast of Greenland or the coast of Spitzbergen, or they might be here in the next valley, or north or south where we could not penetrate. On the other hand, they may be in Novaya-Zemlya, or in some region of the far north never yet penetrated by others. Feeling all this has made me think that it will be by accident we shall meet our friends more than by searching; but we shall go on searching all the same.”
“Then you will make a start to-morrow?”
“Yes, as soon as the carpenter has knocked together a few bars, to make a contrivance that I mean to be a hand-barrow for four or eight men when the ground is rough, and a sledge when it is smooth enough for them to pull it, or on snow.”
“Which way shall you go?” said Steve. “Couldn’t we try the valley up by the glacier?”
“That is where I mean to go first,” said the captain, “so as to examine more fully those traces of coal; so let’s go to rest in good time and start early.”
Steve went on deck to see to his dumb companions before retiring for the night, and found Skene and the young walrus comfortably asleep together forward; for four weeks of imprisonment had sufficed to make the new acquisition so tame and friendly with the dog that Skene quite appreciated his new companion, treating it as a kind of huge india-rubber cushion, over and about which he had a right to stretch himself wherever and whenever he pleased.
But a word roused up the dog, who leaped off the walrus, waking it in the act; and seeing its master it, too, advanced, not like the dog in capers and bounds accompanied by barking, but in a curious shuffling fashion, with plenty of whines and whimpers suggestive of its satisfaction and demand for caresses.
“Good old Skeny!” cried Steve. “Long walk to-morrow, old man, hunting and bear and all sorts.”
The dog uttered a cheery bark at every announcement as if he understood every word, and leaped up at his master, certainly comprehending that there was something on the way.
“Hullo, Blub!” cried Steve, stooping to give the walrus some sounding slaps, which were evidently appreciated. “Rum old chap, ar’n’t you? Why, you always feel as if one ought to sit on you, or roll over you, don’t you?”
For answer the curious-looking object made a barking kind of grunt, and thrust its curious, neckless head over the lad’s shoe, peering up to him, and evidently enjoying the company of one who talked to and favoured it with plenty of slaps and pats, all of which appeared to be thoroughly appreciated, and missed as soon as the lad moved away, the animal shuffling after him in the most absurd way, and to the great delight of the crew, which joined in petting the uncouth beast in the intervals of being free from some busy task.
All this while the stock of oil had rapidly augmented, and one portion of the hold had been set apart for the reception of the great solid tusks, which were carefully extracted from the walrus skulls by Johannes, who never seemed happier than when engaged in some task relating to the capture or storing of the produce of one or other of the arctic animals.
The next morning the party bound for the search and hunt for fresh food started quite early, the boat landing them very near to the side of the great glacier, with its wonderful bluish tints in the chasms and hollows about its feet. At Steve’s request Watty was one of the party, for several times lately he had noticed the longing eyes the lad had directed at them when they were bound on an expedition; and now at last, when he was to have a run on shore and see the shooting of the reindeer, his excitement seemed to bubble over, and he could hardly contain himself as he tramped on by the side of Andrew McByle.
A brief glance was given to the grand glacier, and then the party bore off to the right along the valley, finding, to Steve’s great delight, as they reached the warmer and more sheltered position, where the ground was protected from the sea breeze and from the icy currents which blew from the north, quite an abundance of flowers, though there was a perfect absence of trees. They were dwarfed and ordinary-looking plants, saxifrages and other alpine growths, and so insignificant, that in another part of the world they would have been looked upon as paltry weeds, but here they were rushed after by both the lads, Watty being down on his knees directly to pick a handful.
“Leuk at her,” said Andrew contemptuously. “She always thocht the callant had a bee in her bonnet. She’s gane daft aboot the bit weeds.”
But Steve was quite as “daft”; and in the course of their searching for fresh blossoms they came in contact over a tuft which each had espied from a distance, and paused a yard apart, with eyes glistening from eagerness and hand outstretched, the other holding a spare rifle over the left shoulder. Neither spoke for a moment or two, and then Watty broke the silence and looked quite friendly at his young superior; while Steve waited, expecting to hear some unpleasant remark, or to see some annoying gesture, on the lad’s part.
“I dinna want them,” said Watty at last. “She’ll find plenty mair. Hey! but it does the hairt good to see the bonnie bit floores ance mair. Peck them and come alang, Meester Stevey, and we’ll be finding bilberries oot yonder on ta brae.”
“There’s plenty for both, Watty,” said Steve; and, in the most friendly way brought together by the tiny blossoms, the lads gathered each a handful, Steve sticking his in his breast, and Watty taking off his flat, Celtic, worsted bonnet, laying the flowers carefully therein, and then replacing it upon his bear’s-greasy, shock head.
“She’ll pit them in watter when she gets back,” he said. “Hey! but it does her hairt good to rin amang the floores again.”
Their party was well on ahead, and they trudged after them together along the valley, with the mountains running steeply up on either side, in places up and away to where the dull green moss and tufty growths gave way to bare patches of stones, and still up and up to where the loose stones were succeeded by rock sheathed and netted with snow. Just above this was the eternal, glittering ice, dazzling in the soft glow of the sun, whose light looked cold and calm, and gave the wondrous landscape a saddened aspect; for, in spite of its beauty and the variety of tint of the mountain-side, Steve felt that there was a something mournful about the valley, though why he could not explain.
It was singular, but every step impressed his more thoughtful companions on ahead that this was no haunt for human beings; and as they tramped on, following the windings of the valley, the impression grew stronger and stronger that theirs were the first, possibly might prove to be the last, human feet that had ever traversed this stony desert.
“She dinna see nae heather,” said Watty suddenly, “an’ she dinna see nae bluebell; but it’s verra bonnie oot here, Meester Steve. Will ta captain be gaen far awa?”
“Oh yes, a long way yet, Watty. We’ve got to shoot some deer to take back.”
“Eh? Shoot the deer an’ tak’ back! But she’ll be hungry sune, and when she’s shot a teer she’ll mak’ a fire and roast her. For she’s a fine, gude cook now, and wad like to stay ashore now and build a hoose and shoot and hunt. Wait a wee, and she’ll mak’ a bonnie fire.”
“What of?” said Steve, laughing. “We haven’t shot our deer yet; and if we had, there’s no wood here.”
“Thenk o’ tat,” said Watty, cocking his bonnet on one side to give his head a scratch. “Nae wud! She’s nane sae fine a countrie as bonnie Scotland, then. Nae wud!” he continued, looking round. “But she’ll find a forest over yonder?”
“No, there are no trees here.”
“Then she’ll mak’ a fire o’ peat. She’ll find plenty o’ turves doon alangside o’ ta bilberries.”
“Yes, you may find turf, and perhaps coal; but we shall see.”
They had to hurry a little to overtake the party, and this was soon made easier from their halting about a mile farther inland, where the captain was gazing up the stony slope of the mountain to their left.
Steve looked up, expecting to see some particular plant or perhaps bird; but he was soon undeceived by the doctor handing his rifle to Andrew and climbing up a little way to kick off some masses of something and throw them down.
“What has he found, Captain Marsham?” said Steve; “gold?”
“What is far more valuable to us, my lad—coal. Yes,” he added, as he examined the specimen which he had picked up, “and good, soft, bituminous coal, too. Why, Steve, this is going to be a land of plenty for us. A coal vein cropping out of the cliff-side, ready for us to come with picks, sacks, and sledges to carry off as much as we like.”
“She’s pit petter coal than tat into the galley fire,” said Watty, who had followed the example of the others and picked up a piece to examine. “Leuks brown, Meester Stevey. Does she thenk it wud burn?”
“We’ll try as soon as we get a deer to roast, Watty.”
“Hey, leuk at tat!” cried the lad, as a shadow was cast upon the rock wall, and a huge owl floated by on its soft pinions, staring hard at the human visitors to its solitude with its large round eyes, and then proceeded to perch upon a ledge high above their heads, and strip and devour a speckled bird which it had in its claws.
“Hey, look at tat!” cried Watty, whose excitement bubbled over at every fresh thing he saw. “She got ta white speckled grouse fra off the mountain-side. She’s seen ta grouse like tat on Ben Cruachan.”
“Ptarmigan, Handscombe,” said the captain, as the white and browny-grey plumage of the unfortunate bird came floating down from where the eagle-owl was preparing its meal.
“Yes, ptarmigan, sure enough,” said the doctor. “Come along; we must knock over a few of these if we don’t find any deer. Shall I shoot the owl?”
“No, let it rest; we can’t eat it, and we are too busy to care for preserving specimens. Make a note, though, of our having seen these two birds to-day. I want to make out how wide the coal seam is, and whether it would be easy to work. Here, my lad, give some one else that gun, and climb up and tell me how wide that coal is. You can get up there.”
“She got oop and teukit an eagle’s nest ance by Ballachulish,” replied the boy; and readily enough he climbed from stone to stone, with the huge owl ceasing its preparation of its dinner and glaring down at him.
“Their tameness is shocking to me,” quoted the doctor, as he saw Watty climb and the owl watch him come nearer and nearer, till all at once the great white-and-grey-plumed bird dropped the ptarmigan, made a rapid silent stoop unseen by the lad, struck at his head with claws and wings, and sailed away again silently, leaving the bonnet with its flowers falling more quickly than Watty, who lost his hold, and came rolling, scrambling, and tumbling down, till, scratched, bruised, and breathless, he fell quite at his companions’ feet.
“Wha’ did tat?” he shouted furiously, as he sprang up with his eyes flashing; and he gazed from Steve to the doctor and back, as their anxious look changed now to one of mirth on finding that the boy was not much hurt.
“Did what?” cried Steve in suffocated tones.
“Threw a big lump of turf and knockit off her bonnet.”
“Haud your whisht, laddie,” growled Andrew. “Naebody threw a turf, for there isna turf to throw.”
“But ta turf hit her an ta lug, and knockit off her bonnet.”
“Haud your whisht, laddie; naebody threw a turf. It was the great grey geuse bird teuk her for a lamb. Hey! here she comes back.”
In effect the great owl came sailing up, stooped and picked up the ptarmigan it had dropped, and went off to a ledge of the mountain higher up.
“She’s spoiled a’ the bonnie floores,” muttered Watty, picking up his bonnet, and climbing up again to report that the coal seam was “sae wide,” this measure being indicated by touching the face of the rock in two places about a foot apart; and he was about to descend when he caught sight of something away over a ridge, and pointed.
“She can see the ret-teer,” he whispered. “Whisht!” Watty crept down cautiously, his actions showing that before now he must have been out in the deer forests at home; for as soon as he reached the bottom of the cliff he ran to Skene, who had been watching the owl and its prey with a curiously puzzled look as if he did not know it as a bird at home, and, dropping on one knee, he threw his left arm over the dog’s neck and held his muzzle so that he should not bark.
Every one stared at Watty, he was so completely transformed from the sulky, ill-conditioned lad who assisted the cook. The Scottish blood in his veins was fired by the sight of the deer and recollections of the stalking he had witnessed in his own Highlands, when he had been with one or other of the keepers, and his eyes flashed as he saw the advance made with the rifled guns.
It proved to be no laborious stalk, for the deer did not apprehend danger. The captain brought down one, the doctor another, while Steve, although he rested his heavy rifle on a stone in taking aim, missed an easy shot. He did better later on, though, for another opportunity occurred enabling him to creep within sixty yards of a buck with large spreading antlers, and he was about to fire at the animal as it stood with head erect looking round listening to a sound in the distance, when there was a hard breathing just at his shoulder.
“Watty, you here?” he said.
“Ay. She cam’ to see her shute. Tak’ a lang straight aim this time, laddie. Dinna miss the beastie for bonnie Scotland’s sake. Quick, or she’ll be gane! Tak’ care; reet i’ the shouther.” Bang! “Hey, but ye het her!”
For as the report of Steve’s piece rang out and echoed from the side of the mountain, and again from a ridge across the mossy plain at whose edge they wandered, the stag at which he had fired made a bound and went off at full speed, leaving the lad with his heart beating and full of disappointment.
“No, Watty, a miss; I can’t shoot straight, and it’s of no use trying, I only waste the cartridges.”
“Got him?” came faintly from the distance, and, turning, Steve could see the doctor a couple of hundred yards away.
“No!” cried Steve gloomily; and then softly, “I can’t shoot;” and he watched the disappearing stag.
“Yes, yes, yes!” yelled Watty. “Hi—yi—yi—yi—ah!”
For just as the deer was going at full speed, and a few more bounds would have taken it round a point and out of sight, it dropped suddenly, the impetus at which it had been going sending it right over and over twice; then it lay motionless, and, re-loading as he went, Steve exultantly started after his prize.
“I told her sae; I kenned she’d het her by the way the beastie rinned. Shot recht through the hairt, laddie—recht through the hairt.”
“Mind, it may only be wounded, and these things are dangerous.”
“Nay, she’ll never rin again,” panted Watty, whom long inaction on board had made fat. “It was a bonnie lang shot, and ye ought to be verra proud.”
“But I’m not, Watty; it seems a shame and cowardly to crawl after a beautiful animal and murder it.”
“She isna a peautiful animal,” said Watty scornfully. “She’s fat, put she’s not so big and bonnie as a Hieland stag, and her horns are puir scrats o’ things. Hey, but ye should see the tines on the het of a bonnie ret-teer! She’s only coot to eat; ant she must kill the beasties, or else she’d pine to deat.”
Watty was right, and they could approach the deer without fear of attack. As it happened, it proved to be the finest shot that day, and after it had been gralloched (as the Highlanders term the opening and cleaning of a stag), by the Norsemen, the light sledge was brought into requisition, the men harnessed themselves to it, and the reindeer was dragged to where the game had been left for picking up on their return; but to the surprise of all it was missing.
“It must have been here that we left it,” said the captain, glancing round at the wilderness of rocks reaching from them to the mountain-foot.
“Of course; here are the marks,” said the doctor.
At that minute, with a quiet smile, Johannes touched Steve’s arm and pointed. The boy followed the direction indicated, and saw something moving on the mountain-side.
“Yes, I see it!” cried Steve. “There goes our deer.” For, plainly enough, though over a mile away, possibly two miles, for the air was wonderfully clear, there was a white-coated bear calmly dragging off for its own dinner the deer which had fallen to the doctor’s piece.
“Well, of all the thievish impudence!” he cried. “Come along, and let’s give him a lesson.”
“No, I think not to-day,” said the captain; “we are all tired and hungry. We should not care for the flesh now.”
“But the bear and his skin?”
“We could not take him to-day; we can track him another time. If we shot him now, we should have to leave the carcass, and the skin might be torn. Let’s get back to the other deer.”
The doctor nodded, and, to Steve’s great delight, they pressed on, picked up the next deer, and then all at once Steve handed his gun to Johannes and started off at a trot toward the valley by which they had come.
“Hi! Where’s he going?” cried the doctor, as the men loaded the sledge.
“I don’t know,” said the captain. “Yes, I do: he has run on to light a fire where we found the coal, so as to cook some of the meat.”
“Yes, that’s it,” said the doctor. “I hope he’ll have a good fire. One gets horribly hungry out here.”
They trudged on till they came to where the next deer lay waiting to be picked up. This was the last, and, quite satisfied with their load, they made their way steadily on toward the nearly perpendicular rocks where the coal had been discovered cropping out from the face.
“That’s the place, isn’t it?” said the doctor, pointing and shifting his rifle from one shoulder to the other.
“Yes, sir!” cried Watty Links eagerly. “She can see ta big white ullet flitting aboot and roond and roond because Meester Stevey’s leeting ta fire. She wushes she’d gane. She can leet a fire better tan Meester Stevey, and she could ha’ blow in it wi’ her brath and beat it wi’ her bonnet to mak’ a big blaze coom sune.”
“Did Mr Stephen say to you that he was going to light a fire?”
“Phut!” ejaculated Watty, emitting a sound like an angry turkey-cock, and ruffling up and speaking indignantly. “And tit she thenk she would have let her go and light a fire if she hat kenned aboot it? She’d ha’ gane hersel’, and not let the young chentleman touch the coal stuff. She wadna tell me, and rin away to leet the fire her nainsel’, because she thocht she could do it better. But where’s the smok?”
“Perhaps you are right,” said the captain; “but I don’t see any smoke. He would have been there by now.”
“He has chosen some corner out of the wind,” suggested the doctor, as he watched the great bird circling about the face of the cliff, but from their distance looking less than a pigeon.
“We ought to have a specimen of those owls,” said the captain as they trudged on, rather wearily now, their pieces seeming to have grown wonderfully heavy.
“Marsham, my good friend,” said the doctor, “there is only one specimen in natural history that interests me now, and that is the fleshy tissue known as steak or collops, frizzled over a good clear fire. After I have exhibited, as we doctors say, a dose of that to myself, I shall be quite ready to talk about owls; not before.”
“See him, Johannes?” said the captain, dropping back to take hold of one of the tracking lines, and helping to pull the sledge and ease the men.
“No, sir. He has been troubled to get the fire to burn. Maybe he has no matches. For there was plenty of rough coal lying about, and dry stuff that would soon catch alight. But it will be something to find the fire ready to burn; and we can soon get some bits of meat to roast.”
“I don’t see any signs of that, my lad,” said the captain, after they had gone a little farther. “Of course that was why he ran on. Did he say anything to you about it?”
“Not a word, sir. He made a sudden dart off and was gone.”
“Perhaps he has a fire where we cannot see it,” said the captain; “and it tells well for the coal that it burns with so little smoke. It will be capital for the engines.”
They trudged on, quite satisfied that they had not the other deer to drag as well, for the ground was very rugged, and Captain Marsham suggested to the doctor that if they had had the bear-skin the task would not have been much lighter. Still, every one was cheerful, and tugged heartily at his track rope; but there was no sign of the lad when they reached the foot of the coal cliff.
“Ahoy, there! Ahoy!” shouted the doctor again and again, startling the great owl from its eagle-like eerie and making the rocks echo the cry. But there was no response, and the party looked at each other for an explanation of the position.
“He has not been here,” said the captain, “and we must go back and search. How tiresome, when we are so weary!”
“I wish you had not brought him,” grumbled the doctor. “I say, isn’t anybody going to make a fire?”
“Look here, sir!” cried Jakobsen suddenly from where he stood by a big mass of rock.
“Yes! what is it?” cried the captain; and he stepped toward the man, followed by the others, to where Jakobsen pointed down to a ring of stones, within which was a quantity of dry, heathery stuff with a number of weather-worn lumps of coal.
“No mistake about his having been here,” said the doctor, taking out a box of matches, which, to his astonishment, was snatched from his fingers by Watty, who dropped upon his knees, struck and shaded a match, applied it to the light stuff, which blazed up at once, and then began to fan it with his bonnet in one hand, as he kept on adding little bits of coal with the other.
“She’ll soon have a ferry pig fire,” said Watty, “and she’d petter get ta steaks retty to frizzle. She can cook peautifully the noo.”
This was to Jakobsen, who nodded, drew his knife, and began to cut off a haunch from one of the deer, for Johannes was looking about uneasily.
“See anything of him, my man?” said the captain.
“No, sir. He must be gathering coal together to help the fire; but I’ve been down both these rifts, and he is not there.”
“It’s very strange,” said the captain uneasily. “So unlike him to rush off in that way.”
“He was thinking of our comfort, sir,” said Johannes gravely; “and how good it would be for us to find a fire ready.”
“He must be about here somewhere,” said the captain. “Shout, will you?”
Johannes made the rocks echo again and again, but the only effect was the starting of the owl into flight till the cries and their echoes ceased, when it settled once more high up the mountain-side.
There were several narrow, gully-like places within reach, up either of which the boy might have gone, and the question arose as to the reason for his so doing.
“He would not have gone seeking for coal,” said the doctor, “because there is plenty here.”
“I’m thinking, sir,” said the Norseman, “that he had no matches, and has gone to seek for a stone to use with his knife to strike a light. There can be no other reason.”
“Then he will be back directly,” said the captain. “There, leave them to cook; I am uneasy about him. Let’s search those places a little farther off. We’ll take that one, Handscombe; you the other, Johannes.”
They all then started off as the fire burned up, and spread quite a cloud of black smoke overhead; and the Norseman had barely reached the mouth of the ravine which he was to explore before he stopped and gave a triumphant shout as he waved his hand. The others waved their hands in answer, and turned to where he stood, with something in his grasp, peering carefully around.
“His cap!” cried the captain. “What does that mean?”
The Norseman shook his head.
“The ground is hard as iron, sir,” he said; “there is not an impression anywhere. I’ve been looking for foot-marks.”
“Surely he has not been attacked by wild beasts—bears!” cried Mr Handscombe hoarsely.
“I thought of that, sir; but there is no sign.”
They hailed again and again, but there was no reply save that given by the echoes, and the captain grew more uneasy.
“Show me exactly where you found the cap,” he said.
The Norseman trotted about fifty yards on beyond the entrance to the ravine he had been set to search, and picked up a piece of slaty coal.
“Just here, sir,” he said. “I put this where I found the cap.”
“Then he must have gone on in that direction; he would not have come back to go down there.”
“No, sir.”
“But why should he have dropped his cap?” said the doctor.
“He must have been running after something, sir.”
“Or something must have been running after him,” cried the doctor. “He would not have gone any farther than this unless there was some reason.”
“Of course not,” said the captain testily; “but what reason could there be?”
“Well, it seems to me that the best thing is to go back to the fire and wait a few minutes,” said the doctor, after standing thoughtful and silent. “He is far more likely to come to us than we are to go to him. It seems to be a mystery; but mysteries sometimes turn out very simple things. What do you say?”
“I say that we’ll have a good search down this gully, and see if by any chance he has gone down here. You, Johannes, search along over our morning’s track straight away, and try and be back in half an hour at the fire. We will meet you.”
The Norseman went off without a word, and the captain and doctor, after a glance in the direction of the fire to see that the others were watching them, plunged into the gloomy, rugged gully, which looked as if the mountain had been suddenly split apart, leaving at the bottom just room for two men to pick their way along abreast, while the sides ran up at once toward where the ice and snow never melted save on the surface, to send a little water trickling down to form a tiny stream, which wandered along among the stones beneath their feet. But though they pressed on, seeking hard for some sign of the lad having passed there, nothing was seen; so, when the half-hour was well up, they turned their heads in the other direction, vainly trying to make out where he could have gone, and still scanning every stone and rift overhead for signs.
“I hope Johannes has had better fortune,” said the captain as they neared the entrance.
“I hope so; he would be back at the fire long before now,” replied the doctor; but hardly had he spoken when a loud hail came echoing down the gully. They sent an echoing reply, and hurried their paces.
“One hardly likes to shout here,” said the doctor; “the echoes are so weird and strange, they seem quite to answer you.”
“Better if Steve would answer,” said the captain drily. “You said a time back you wished we had not brought him to-day. I honestly wish now that I had not brought him at all. Well, Johannes?”
There was no need to speak. The heavy, solemn face of the Norseman told that he had seen nothing, and they went back to the fire in silence.
There was a pleasant odour to a hungry man out in the open, that of frizzling meat, as they approached the fire; but the strange disappearance of their young companion took away all appetite, and Watty, who was smiling with satisfaction at the success of the collops he had been cooking upon skewers of wood, as chef of the al-fresco kitchen, saw with intense disappointment that the captain and those with him contented themselves with taking a couple of ship’s biscuits each, and then turning away to confer as to what ought to be done.
“We cannot go back to the ship without him,” said the captain.
“No,” cried Johannes.
“Do you think he is playing us some trick?” said the doctor.
“Trick?”
“I mean hiding away, and will turn up directly.”
“No, he would not be so wanting in common sense,” said the captain sternly. “What pleasure could he find in so inane a prank?”
“None. I ought not to have said such a thing. He would not, of course.”
“No,” said Johannes decisively. “Is it possible, gentlemen, that he may have gone on, after putting the fire ready, so as to reach the boat?”
“I can see no reason.”
“You did not give him any order, sir—one that you have forgotten?”
“No, certainly not,” said the captain; and Johannes was silent, waiting for his superior to make some suggestion, the captain being very thoughtful as he stood there with his brow knit. At last he spoke.
“I cannot leave this place with the knowledge that he may have gone away for some reason that we cannot grasp and will perhaps return here by-and-by. It would be horrible for him to come and find that we had gone.”
“I should stay,” said Johannes shortly. “Thank you, my man,” said the captain warmly; “and we shall stay, too. Of course you would not go, Handscombe?”
“Impossible!” said the doctor quickly. “One minute, though,” he continued, looking upward toward the rugged face of the mountain, and higher still to the snow and ice. “Do you think he has climbed up yonder to pass the time till we overtook him?”
“Oh no!” cried the captain; “the time was too short. There, my mind is made up.”
The others looked at him; but he said no more till he had turned back to the fire.
“Look here, my lads,” he said; “make a meal as quickly as you can, and then hurry on to the place where we landed. Of course you will keep a sharp look-out for Mr Steve as you go, in case he may be on the road. If you do not pass him, question the boat-keepers; and if they have not seen him, you, Jakobsen, will come back to us here.” The Norseman nodded.
“I shall depend upon your making all the haste you can back to us,” continued the captain. “We may want you to help explore the place around; but I am in hopes that you will find him waiting by the boat.”
Ten minutes later the men sprang up, harnessed themselves to the sledge and prepared to start, only waiting for the captain to give the word, “Go!”
Just then Watty sidled up to where the captain was standing.
“She’ll chust let her stay?” said the boy insinuatingly.
“Stay? You stay, my lad? What for?”
“She thenks she can help find him.”
“Why, what makes you think that?”
“Aw dinna ken,” said the lad, shaking his head. “She only thenks she can find him. She can climb and rin. Ye’ll chust let her stay?”
“But you don’t want to find him,” cried the doctor. “You two were the worst of friends.”
“Freends? She woodna be freend, only chust acquaint; but she’d like to find him, all the same.”
“Stay,” said the captain laconically. “You may be of use; but I’m afraid that we can do nothing but wait.”
Watty Links stepped back, giving himself a punch in his side, which seemed to indicate that he was intensely gratified.
Then the word was given, the men tightened their track ropes, and went off with the sledge and its heavy load of fresh meat at a pretty good rate, while Captain Marsham and his companions stood gazing round, and considered what direction it would be best to take.
Then a thought struck the captain, and he turned to the boy.
“Look here, my lad,” he said quickly, “if you stay here I shall want you to stop by the fire while we go about searching.”
“She’ll want her to stop by the fire?” said Watty in dismay.
“Yes.”
“What, all alane?”
“Yes, while we search, so that some one may be here if Mr Stephen comes back while we are gone.”
“But alane by her nainsel’?” faltered Watty.
“Of course. There, be off with you. Run after the men; you can easily overtake them.”
“She dinna want to go after the men,” said Watty stoutly. “She wants to find Meester Stevey, and ye said I micht stop.”
“Then you must do what I want you to do, sir. Are you afraid?”
“Aye, she’s a bit skeary aboot stopping here all alane.”
“Off with you, then!”
“Nay, she said I micht stop.”
“Then you will have to stay and keep watch by the fire.”
“She wants to go and find Meester Stevey.”
“I have no time to argue with you, sir. Go or stay,” said the captain angrily.
“She’s chust going to stop,” said Watty sullenly.
“The boy has stuff in him,” said the captain to Mr Handscombe; “and he has a kind of attachment to Steve after all their bickerings and fighting. Now, then, we must have another search; which way do you recommend, Johannes?”
“There is no choice, sir,” said the Norseman gravely; “one place is as likely to be right as another. There is a little valley yonder behind the coal. Shall we try that?”
“Yes,” was the laconic answer; and the captain stood thinking for a few moments, and using the little glass he carried to sweep the mountain-side, and then the slopes and plain opening behind them.
“She’ll pe getting ferry hungry,” said Watty, “and she’d petter eat some of the tear.”
The captain shook his head.
“Eat, Johannes,” he said. “You, too, Handscombe.”
The Norseman nodded.
“I cannot eat now, sir,” he said; “but I’ll take enough with us for all. We shall be faint and want food by-and-by.”
“Yes, take some,” said the captain. “Now, my man, you will keep up the fire and have some of the meat they have left ready to cook when we bring back Mr Stephen?”
“Tat’s what she was gaen to do,” said the lad quickly.
“We shall not be away more than an hour, if he comes back first. There is nothing to mind.”
“Put if the beast come what’ll she do?”
“Beasts? They are not likely to come here.”
“Put if she shall come, what then?” queried Watty sharply.
“Then,” said the captain, smiling—“why, then you must climb up the cliff there, and wait till we come back.”
“Yes,” said Watty thoughtfully; “tat’s the pest thing to do.”
Five minutes later he was alone frizzling more of the reindeer haunch freshly cut from the bone with his big sharp knife, for the others had started off at once for the little valley Johannes had pointed out.
“She’ll pe ferry lanely all alane,” said Watty, after watching till the doctor, who was last, had disappeared. “What’ll she do till they come pack?”
He stood watching the fire, and thinking. Then at last:
“There’ll pe plenty left for Meester Stevey when she comes, and she tidn’t get enough pefore, so she’ll pegin to eat over again.”