But the intense excitement produced by the change to warmth and sunshine seemed to border on a kind of rollicking madness; and bubbling over with fun Skene turned quite mutinous, barking as if derisively in response to every call, and evading Steve as he chased him, the boy running along the deck and making dashes at the dog, who avoided him by his superior activity, till, getting at last quite close, Steve made a snatch at his quarry's hind leg and grasped it firmly. Almost at the same instant Skene made a bound, dragged his leg away, and came down in a double astride upon the top of the bulwark, tried to recover himself, got upon his legs, again slipped, nearly went overboard, but saved himself by another leap, and came down upon the deck flop. Before he could get up Steve was upon him, holding by the long hair of the animal's neck. Then there was a sharp struggle, in which the boy won, and Skene turned his head round, looked up in his master's face, and uttered a pitiful howl, the cry and the way in which it was uttered seeming so wonderfully human and so thoroughly to express the dog's ideas, "Oh, what a shame, when I was enjoying myself so!" that Steve burst into a fit of laughing.

"C'ssss! Bite him then," came from the door of the galley, and Steve looked sharply round to see Watty's head just outside the door, and the movement made him slacken his hold of the dog.

Wuph!

One deep utterance, half growl, half bark. Skene was free, and Steve on his side, while the dog charged right at Watty, striking the door heavily with his fore paws, as the cook's new assistant snatched his head inside and pulled the door to.

"Serve you right!" muttered Steve, gaining his feet. "Quiet, Skeny! Down!"

For the dog was gazing up at the spot where Watty's head had disappeared, and growling fiercely.

The next moment Watty appeared at the window.

"I'll tell the skipper ye sat the tyke at me!" cried the boy.

"If you don't behave yourself I will!" retorted Steve; and then patting Skene's head he walked away, the dog, quite sobered now, following him, muttering in growls, and looking back now and then at the galley, whose door was softly opened, and a hand protruded holding a piece of cold salt meat.

Skene saw it, and hesitated. Then he stopped short, and Watty whistled and wriggled the piece of meat about. That was too much for any animal. Meat is meat after all, and to keep him healthy Skene had been dieted a good deal upon biscuit. He was only a dog, and rushing back, he snatched the piece in his trap-like jaws.

"Poor fellow, then; poor old Skene!" whispered Watty. But he might as well have whispered his soothing words to the winds, for the dog only uttered a low growl and trotted back to his master, who was once more eagerly scanning the coast.

But it was always very much the same: heavy breakers tumbling over to a chain of rocks—foaming, rushing, falling back, and swinging to and fro till fresh help came from the tide, and they gathered themselves for a fresh assault. Beyond the waves a more or less narrow line of shore, and then cliff, and above that mountainous heights glittering with ice and snow, and here and there in some opening a frozen river looking as if it were rushing headlong down to the sea, but hanging there solid, save for a little rill which trickled forth from a cavern of celestial blue at its foot.

They steamed on for hours quite slowly, rounding the southern shore, and then further progress was stayed, for, once more, there before them was the low cliff of ice, extending apparently right up behind the island, and connecting it with the mainland. Ice everywhere now, and another mountain, emitting a faint film of smoke.

"No sign of human being on the shore: all that journey southward for nothing," said the doctor.

"One can hardly call it for nothing, eh, Steve?" said the captain. "We have satisfied ourselves pretty well that our friends are not here."

"But they may be inland beyond those cliffs, sir!" cried the boy.

"Maybe, Steve, my lad," said the captain sadly; "but as far as we can make out there is no chance for a human being to exist there. Any one wrecked in such an inhospitable place would certainly have taken to a sheltered spot under the cliffs, where he would be protected from the coldest winds. Aloft there!"

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"What do you make out over the cliffs there to westward and north?"

"Ice and snow, sir," came for answer from the crow's-nest.

"No good land?"

"No, sir. All ice and snow piled up higher and higher. There's that frozen river goes winding up right into the mountains."

"No place for a camp?"

"No, sir; not as far as I can see."

These were the quiet, sober words of Johannes, who was aloft once more, armed with a telescope.

"Any opening where we could land on the ice-floe?" cried Captain Marsham.

"No, sir," came back after a time; "nothing here. Any boat would be stove in directly."

"What shall you do now?" said the doctor; and Steve listened eagerly for the reply.

"'Bout ship and coast up again, then follow the edge of the ice away to the north and east. But we'll keep close in, as we know the water is deep. We may, perhaps, find a landing-place which we have missed coming down."

Another look round was given, and they began to steam north once more.



CHAPTER NINE.

THE WRECK ASHORE.

A coast could never have been more eagerly scanned than was that of this island, for every man of the crew was longing for a run ashore in search of some little adventure to break the monotony of the life on board; and again and again, as a seal was seen to slip off the rocks after staring at them for a while with its peculiar, half human countenance, or a flock of sea-birds was passed, the men looked disappointed that no efforts were made to harpoon the one or shoot the other. But as far as landing was concerned, the heavy waves which foamed among the craggy masses thoroughly precluded that, and at last they neared the wreck once more, looking as grim and desolate as ever. Steve had just turned his glass to examine the snow near the top of the volcano where the smoke was issuing, and was wondering why it did not melt, when Jakobsen, the principal harpooner of the Norwegian party, gave a shout and pointed shoreward and forward.

"Yes, what is it?" cried Captain Marsham.

"Landing-place, sir."

There it was, surely enough, hidden from them as they came south, but plain to view now at the back of a huge mass of rock which acted as a breakwater; and there, in quite a recess, was a patch of yellow sand, over which the sea glided gently, while behind the rock the water seemed to be deep and still.

Five minutes after the engine was stopped, the boat lowered, and the captain, doctor, Steve, and a strong crew jumped in, leaving Mr Lowe in charge, the dog leaping in last of all. A short row, for the most part balanced on the top of a great roller gliding shoreward to break on the rocks, and then a smart pull to the right, and they were behind the great rock, riding gently on deep crystal-like water. Fifty yards farther the boat was beached on the thick sand, drawn up, and the party set off, climbing over the tumbled-together rocks to reach the more level ground and make straight for the wreck, which lay some quarter of a mile to the north.

The captain took a sharp look round, and then suggested loading the heavy double guns he, the doctor, and Steve carried, the right bore with the heaviest shot, the rifled barrel with bullet.

One of the men carried a spare rifle, and Johannes and Jakobsen each shouldered a heavy walrus lance, a terrible weapon in the hands of a strong man, with its stout pole about nine feet long and keen leaf-shaped blade, so that they felt themselves more than a match for any polar bear which might show itself in front.

"Gun heavy, Steve?" said the captain.

"Eh? Yes—no! I don't know," he replied; "I had not thought about the weight."

"Which means, I suppose, that you were thinking of having a shot at a bear."

"Well, yes, sir; I was thinking of something of the kind," said Steve, colouring.

"You must be careful, then. I will not say do not fire, my lad; but a gun is a dangerous weapon in unskilled hands, as dangerous sometimes for the people round as for the quarry in front."

"I'll take care, sir," said Steve, in a tone full of confidence.

The captain turned and looked at him sharply.

"I'd rather you had said, 'I'll try to take care.'"

"Snubbed," thought Steve. "Why, of course I shall take care. Does he think I shall shoot one of the men?"

He had other things to think of a few minutes later, for there before them, as they toiled on over the rocks and sand, with the breakers thundering away just to their right, lay the wreck, making them all hasten their pace, which gradually increased until it was a run, Steve at last leading, in spite of the weight of the heavy gun, and reaching the stranded vessel many yards in front of the doctor, who was next.

"I forgot all about the bears," said the latter, giving a sharp look round with his gun ready.

But there was nothing in sight but a great gull floating gently along over the breaking waves, and looking down eagerly for anything edible cast up by the sea.

Then the rest came up, and they looked round the vessel, lying quite firmly wedged in the rocks, one of them having pierced its bottom, making a gap, through which the sand had made its way till it was half filled.

The bows were examined and then the stern, but everything bearing the vessel's name and the port from which she sailed had been swept away, save two letters—two E's on the starboard side, just below the stern cabin window.

"Do you think it is the Ice Blink, sir?" said Steve in an awe-stricken whisper; for in spite of the bright sunshine and dazzling blue of sea and sky, there was something so weird and grim about the loose, torn, shattered wreck that the boy felt as if it were impossible to speak aloud.

"No," said the captain decidedly; and in an instant the sight of the torn timbers seemed less terrible, and the pictures Steve was calling up of his uncle and crew lying somewhere about buried in the sand faded away.

As the captain gave vent to that decisive utterance he climbed on board, and stood up on the stones and sand which filled the angle between the bulwarks and the sloping deck.

"What do you say she is, Johannes?" cried the captain to the sturdy Norseman, who stood leaning on the shaft of his great spear.

"Whaler, sir, and been here for three or four years," replied the man.

"Yes, I thought it was not a last season's wreck. E—E," he said thoughtfully; "where can she be from?"

"Dundee!" cried Steve quickly.

"Good. Of course, a Dundee whaler," said Captain Marsham. "That brings to an end all idea of the Ice Blink coming to grief here. But let's see; we may find traces of the poor fellows who were wrecked;" and after a look at the remains of the broken masts, the huge cavern-like hollow ripped in the deck, where tons upon tons of sand were lying as it had been tossed in during storms, he led the way aft to the cabin; but there was little to see there. The windows had been battered in by the stones and pieces of rock hurled at them by the waves; but two of the dead-lights, which had been evidently closed during the storm in which the vessel was wrecked, were still held in their places. As for the cabin itself, the contents had been torn and beaten away through a huge gap on one side of the rudder, which reached upward to the deck, and nothing remained of locker or berth that could give any trace of the crew. From here they went forward to the forecastle, the hatch of which gaped widely open; and as they stood below it at the bottom of the sloping deck, Steve felt a strange sensation of shrinking, and as if he would prefer to leave any secrets which the cabin might hide in peace. Captain Marsham felt, too, something of the kind, and he said a few words in a low voice to the doctor.

"Yes," replied the latter, "perhaps so, poor fellows; but we ought to see."

That was enough to suggest to Steve the possibility of the remains of the crew being below, just as they had died of cold, perhaps of starvation. The desire to leave the deck increased, but he tried to brace himself together, and listened as the doctor said:

"Shall I go?"

"No," replied the captain; and taking hold of the hatch he drew himself up to it and peered down; then handing his gun to Steve, he lowered himself down feet first and disappeared, while the rest stood watching the square opening and listening intently.

"Rather dark," came up from the forecastle, and they heard the sharp scratching sound made by the striking of a match.

"No one here. Plenty of sand drifted right in."

Another match was struck, and then, after the short period one of the little tapers would take to burn out, the captain's hands appeared and he climbed out.

"Nothing whatever," he said. "No trace of a soul, and everything has been cleared out; not so much as a blanket left."

"That looks as if the crew must have stripped the vessel, and built themselves a place somewhere inland."

"Or on the shore," said the captain. "No; I fancy that this vessel was forsaken long ago. Her crew must have taken to the boats, and let us hope that they all escaped across to Hammerfest, or some other port."

"Will you search any further?" asked Steve. "There is nothing to search for here, my boy," replied the captain; "but we will have a tramp forward, and see if any traces have been left of hut or signal-post, though I feel certain that no one is here."

The doctor looked doubtful, and Steve felt glad, for he thought the captain was taking matters too coolly.

"Well," continued that gentleman, turning to the doctor, "supposing that it was your misfortune to be cast ashore on this desolate place, what would be the first thing you would try to do?"

"Try to get away," replied the doctor, smiling. "Exactly; and if you had no means of getting away, would you not hoist a flag on some prominent place where it would be seen by a passing vessel?"

"Of course."

"Where is the spar, then, hoisted on the cliff?" The doctor shook his head, and Steve gazed up and along the top of the long, level height, which looked like a mighty rampart at the foot of a snowy pyramid.

"Here, what do you say, Johannes? You have had plenty of experience of sea life. Where is the crew of this schooner?"

The man shook his head and smiled. "Who knows, sir?" he said. "I don't think they ever landed here. It was a deserted ship when it came ashore."

"Why do you say that?" said the doctor sharply. "I see nothing, sir: no timbers or spars dragged up the beach; not a sign of anything having been moored."

At that moment the dog, which had followed them, quietly waiting for the first shot to be fired, when his task of retrieving the game would begin, uttered an uneasy whimper and cocked his ears.

"Quiet, Skeny! What is it?" said Steve, stooping to pat him. "Only getting impatient."

"Yes," said the captain, "and we may as well move on. No, doctor, there is nobody to search for, so let's take a tramp for a few miles, try and pick up a few wild fowl, and get back on board. Eh? you have something to say, Jakobsen?" he continued, as he caught the second Norwegian's eye.

"Only that I think as Johannes does, sir, that you are right. She was a forsaken vessel when she struck there."

"Forward, then," cried the captain, shouldering his gun; and they dropped down on to the drift of sand below her, walked round by the bow, and, keeping a sharp look-out for game, tramped away northward, but bearing for the cliff, where at one point a glacier came right down, and at its foot the snow lay in a long slope; not soft, flocculent snow fresh fallen, but a collection of hard pellets, more resembling a gigantic heap of the remains seen after a very heavy hail-storm. But it was suggestive to Skene of the mountain-side far away beyond the Clyde at home, and with a sharp bark he dashed at it, thrust his nose in the cool, rounded fragments, and then cast himself upon his side to plough his way through them, sniffling and snuffling the while, as if he were trying to find snow-buried sheep after a winter's gale.

"Goot tog, goot tog," muttered Andrew, who carried the spare rifle, and he shifted it from one shoulder to the other. "Ah, laddie," he whispered to Steve, "how it 'minds me o' bonnie Scotland."

They tramped on, noting flock after flock, thousands upon thousands in fact, of sea-birds, sitting in rows upon the ledges of the cliffs many of them, while others flew seaward, wheeling round and retiring; so plentiful were they—auks, puffins, guillemots, and tern—that the men might easily have been loaded with the spoil. But these birds were not tempting from a food point of view; and though Steve was anxious for a trial, the captain had no mind to stop while the boy ran risks by climbing to the ledges in search of the eggs that no doubt were there in thousands; so they kept on, looking vainly for ducks or geese.

"There," said the captain at last, "we have nothing to gain by tramping along here. We know that if we keep on we shall come to the ice cliff, and be turned back. It is impossible to get up here and go inward without chipping a way up that glacier, to find more snow, so let's go back."

"Without a single bird?" cried the doctor in a disappointed tone.

"Well, another hundred yards or so, then," said the captain; "but I don't think we shall get anything. We want the mouth of a river or a lagoon from which the ice has just melted."

"What's the matter with the dog?" said Steve suddenly, after they had walked on for another ten minutes; for Skene had suddenly seemed as if he had conceived it to be his duty to turn himself into as near a resemblance to an arctic wolf as he possibly could. His ears were laid back, his eyes lurid, his teeth bared, and the thick ruff above his neck and shoulders set up, bristling and waving as if swept by a strong current of air.

"Look out, gentlemen; he scents game," whispered Johannes.

"Stop!" said the captain. "It was near here that we saw the bears."

"No, no, a mile farther," said the doctor.

At that moment Skene growled savagely, and from behind a pile of grey rocks some fifty yards to their right a large animal suddenly rushed out, turned and stared at them for a moment or two, and then shuffled off at a lumbering trot, going rapidly over the rough ground in the direction of the ice.

"Don't fire! don't fire!" cried the captain. "A stern shot would only injure without killing the poor brute. Let him go."

"My word!" cried the doctor as he lowered his gun; "but he is a fine one."

Steve, too, had eagerly raised his double gun to fire, and felt quite resentful at being ordered not to draw trigger; and he stood now watching the great, thick-legged creature with its long, silky, cream-coloured fur hanging low down, the animal being as big in body as an ox, but with small, sharp, ferrety-looking head.

"But if the gentleman fires and hits, sir," said Jakobsen eagerly, "it will stop him and make him angry; then we can kill him with the spears."

"Look out!" cried the captain; "the other. Hah! Good dog!"

For, unnoticed by them as they watched the retreating bear, Skene had rushed off round the pile of rocks and put up the second bear, a monster certainly bigger than the first, and it rushed into sight before the party from the Hvalross, pursued by the dog, which was barking loudly now and snapping at its heels.

After shuffling along a little way without noticing the men, the bear seemed to think that it was extremely undignified and cowardly to run from a fierce little animal something like the dogs it had probably seen in the Esquimaux sledges, and, stopping short, it faced round to look wonderingly at its pursuer.

This was the opportunity the collie sought, and without hesitation it sprang right at the bear's muzzle, but so quickly that the act was hardly perceptible; the bear raised one paw, gave a tap with it, and poor Skene went flying, rolling over and over, and then lay for a few moments motionless, with the bear walking slowly toward him, but stopping short as it became aware of the presence of the party from the ship.



CHAPTER TEN.

URSA MAJOR AT HOME.

Those were exciting moments, as in the perfect silence which reigned the sharp clicking of the gun-locks sounded loud and strange. Directly after a low whine was uttered by the dog, which lay as if half stunned, what seemed like a light pat from the bear having been a tremendous blow. In answer, as it were, began a chorus of wailing cries, screams, and snapping sounds from the birds which came now wheeling round, a few at a time, till there was a perfect cloud.

The captain, doctor, and Steve held their pieces ready waiting to fire, but the two former hesitated, thinking that they could get a better opportunity; while Steve wondered whether he would be able to hold the heavy double gun steady, for it was visibly describing all kinds of figures with the muzzle, and felt moment by moment more weighty. The two Norsemen stood ready with their great spears levelled; and the bear, there in front, remained watching them, its head lowered and swung up and down, from side to side, with its nose at times almost touching the ground.

"Take care, Steve," said the captain, without taking his eye from the bear. "Be ready to get behind one of the rocks. You, Johannes, stay by him."

"Yes," said the Norseman in a low tone.

"Shall we fire?" said the doctor huskily, as the bear stayed in its place, swinging its head about, making no sign of either attack or retreat.

"Not yet," replied the captain. "Wait till we can get a shot at the shoulder; a head shot is bad."

But the bear did not seem disposed to offer the side for the purpose of being shot, and turned first one eye and then the other to them—strange reddish-looking eyes, which looked them over in a furtive way, as the regular swinging motion of the head was kept up.

"Will it charge, Johannes?" said the captain.

"Don't know. I think it will begin to run. Be ready. It is sure to charge when it is wounded. We'll take it then on the spears."

At that moment there was a diversion, and the bear raised its head a little to look beyond them.

Steve glanced sharply round to see what the animal was looking at, and became aware of the fact that Andrew McByle was stealing away on tip-toe. This raised Steve's ire, for the thought flashed through his brain that if anybody had a right to run it was he, the boy of the party; and he wanted to make off very badly, but, paradoxical as it may sound, he at the same time did not want to run, but to help shoot the bear.

"Here! hi! Stop!" he shouted angrily; "don't run off with that gun!"

"Ahm only going to tak' oop a fresh poseetion ahint the stanes," said Andrew hurriedly.

No more was said, for the bear now shook itself, making the beautiful thick hair stand out, and giving the huge animal the appearance of growing rapidly in size. It uttered a low, fierce growl now, and its eyes flashed in the sunshine.

"You'll have to fire, Handscombe," said the captain in a low voice; "it's going to charge. No, stop!"

For just then the bear swung its head round to the right and glanced toward the ice, as if looking out for a way of retreat.

"It's going to run," said Jakobsen.

Hardly had the words left his lips than the bear made a rush right at the centre of their line.

Bang—bang—bang! Three shots were fired almost simultaneously, but they did not have the slightest effect, the bear rushing on, and the next minute the doctor was gathering himself up, and the bear was shuffling along the shore, apparently in pursuit of Andrew McByle, who ran on yelling, and fired twice in the air, as if sending the charges of the gun he carried right ahead, where he wished to be.

"Hurt?" cried the captain anxiously, as he held out his hand to the doctor.

"Only the wind knocked out of me," was the panting reply. "Come on."

They re-loaded as they followed the bear at a trot, and to Steve's great delight, there was a sharp barking, for Skene leaped up as the bear passed him, and, apparently without much the matter, followed the great beast.

"I don't think we touched him," cried the captain.

"Yes," said Johannes simply, as he ran by Steve's side with his spear at the trail. "Blood."

He pointed to the ground, but Steve said nothing as, full of excitement now, he kept pace with the others in the pursuit.

"Quick!" cried the captain; "fire anywhere now, or the brute will overtake that man."

"Serve him right for being such a coward," muttered the doctor.

The bear was some fifty yards before them, and Andrew McByle another fifty, but with the bear gaining upon him fast, it being astonishing how rapidly the great unwieldy animal could shuffle over the rough ground.

Just then Andrew looked back over his shoulder at his pursuer, uttered a wild yell, threw away the rifle, and with his hands in the air ran on faster.

"I can't fire for fear of hitting the man," panted the captain; and then he uttered a cry of satisfaction, for, in his alarm, Andrew had made for broken ground, tripped over a rock, and fell heavily, whilst the bear uttered a fierce roar.

"Halt!" shouted the captain, bending on one knee, as Andrew disappeared, having plumped himself behind a huge block of stone.

Steve followed his leader's example, and fired directly after, aiming as carefully as possible at the running beast.

"Missed!" muttered Steve.

"I think that touched him!" cried the captain, hurriedly opening the breech of his piece and thrusting in another cartridge.

"Yes, that stopped him," said the doctor, as the bear swung round and bit viciously at a spot somewhere about the centre of its back.

Then the doctor fired, but his shot had no effect save to draw the animal's attention to its pursuers, and it came at them at once, showing its teeth now viciously, while the two Norsemen placed themselves on either side of the little party ready for the attack.

The captain took careful aim now, and fired, making the bear jerk its head; but the bullet had made little impression, for the brute came on till Skene made a dash at its nose, when the animal swung round just as the captain was re-loading.

"Fire, both of you—now!" cried the captain excitedly; but only the doctor drew trigger, hitting their quarry somewhere about the hip. Steve did not fire; he could not have told why, but knelt on one knee with his piece ready, and conscious of the fact that one of the big Norsemen was at his right shoulder with the great lance held presented over his head.

Skene kept on harassing the bear and taking off its attention; but a bullet now struck it in so sharp a way that it ignored the dog, and came rushing toward its enemies open-mouthed, blood and foam making its white teeth look horrible, and in spite of another shot came close up, rose on its hind legs, towering above the kneeling men, with its paws separated to strike, when almost together both barrels of Steve's piece were fired right into the animal's chest, and as it uttered a savage roar the lances of the two Norsemen were driven into it and rapidly withdrawn.

The effect was instantaneous: the monster threw itself over and lay upon its back, tearing at the air for a few moments, and then subsided slowly on to one side—dead, Skene leaping upon the carcass to give vent to a triumphant burst of barking, while the captain shook hands with the doctor, and then clapped Steve on the shoulder.

"Well done! Bravo!" he cried. "Splendid shots, just at the right moment; couldn't have been better."

"Couldn't it?" said Steve, speaking feebly, for he felt rather ashamed of the praise, and at the same time a kind of regret for having played so prominent a part in the death of the animal.

He must have shown this in his face, for the captain said:

"It's quite right, my lad. These bears are dangerous, destructive beasts, and would have given us no mercy. Besides, we must get a cargo to take back."

A hail brought up the sailors, who were sent back in the boat for the other two Norsemen, while Johannes and Jakobsen, after carefully cleaning the blades of their lances, laid them against a rock, took off their jackets, rolled up their sleeves, and then, taking out their knives, began to skin the great bear.

At this time Andrew came up limping.

"Well, brave man!" said the doctor; "wounded?"

"Ah, she can be brave eneuch when there's ony occasion, sir," said Andrew. "But she never war grand at fechting bear, and she thocht she'd get oot o' the way o' the shooting."

"And you did," said the captain contemptuously. "There, go and fetch that piece you threw away."

"Nay, it slippit oot o' my fingers, sir. It was after she'd fired it, though."

"The least said the soonest mended, McByle," said the captain coldly. "You had better hold your tongue, and go and find that rifle. I may as well tell you, though, that my opinion of your bravery is not very high."

"Nay, sir, dinna be hard upon a puir mon. Ye dinna ken a' aboot me the yet."

"I know enough. Don't talk, man; go and find the rifle, and then come and help the skinning here."

"She will, sir; but, doctor, is her leg brukkit?"

"Eh? Bah! no. A bit sprained at the ankle joint. When you fell, I suppose?"

"Ay, sir. Ye see she had to try so hard to save her head, she couldna attend to her legs and feet," said Andrew, with a cunning look at the doctor, as he limped off in search of the rifle, leaving the rest examining the magnificent animal lying motionless among the stones.

It was an enormous beast, with a coat of long, silky, cream-coloured fur, which hung down from its sides, and hid the claws when its feet were spread out.

"No wonder he could stand the polar winters with a great-coat like that, eh, Steve?" cried the doctor. "Why, my lad, you must have that skin carefully dressed, and use it as an ornament for your drawing-room when you have one."

"I?" cried the boy.

"To be sure; it was your shot that brought him down, eh, Marsham?"

"Certainly," replied the captain; "he gave the finishing stroke."

The conversation was getting so personal that Steve walked away to where Skene crouched in a soft, sandy place, his ears cocked up and his eyes intent upon the actions of the two Norsemen, who were working away at the skinning; and as every now and then their tugging at the tough hide gave a slight movement to the left fore leg of the bear, the dog kept jumping up, uttering a fierce growl, ruffling up the hair about his neck, and showing his teeth as if about to attack.

"Down, Skeny! down, boy!" cried Steve, as the dog made one of these demonstrations. "Let's have a look at you. Where are you hurt?"

He knelt down by the dog, patted him, and then took hold of one of his legs; but Skene threw up his muzzle and made so piteous a cry that the leg was immediately released and laid a short distance farther away by its owner.

"Then you are hurt, old chap. Shall I fetch the doctor?"

The dog yelped.

"What does that mean, Johannes, yes or no?"

"Only his way of saying thank you, sir," replied the Norseman. "He's hurt, but not badly; because, as you saw, he could run at the bear. He's a good deal bruised, and he'll be a bit sore for days; but animals soon get well again. They lick themselves right when they are hurt."

"But oughtn't he to be examined?"

"I did look at him, sir. He's only hurt in the shoulder and ribs, where the bear struck him. There isn't a trace of blood. Let him lie, sir; he'll curl up when we get him on board."

As the dog appeared to be in no pain and was intent upon the skinning process, he was left alone; and the little party followed the dog's example, till Johannes suddenly looked up.

"I don't know, gentlemen," he said; "it's hardly likely, but I'd post somebody to keep a look-out. The bear's mate might come to look after him, and they are savage brutes at times."

"I'll get on that stone and keep the look-out myself," said the captain. "No; here comes McByle with the gun. He shall go up on the rock and keep watch. He doesn't seem to limp much now."

This was the case, and a few minutes after Andrew was perched up on a pile of rocks some twenty feet above the ground. He accepted the duty most willingly, for the top of the rock seemed to be a particularly safe place; and as soon as he heard the object of his task he scrambled up so rapidly that the captain laughed.

"We need not fidget about McByle's hurts," he said; and then he shouted: "Keep a sharp look to the northward, McByle!"

"Ay, ay, sir, she will," replied the man; and they saw him gaze intently toward the spot where the other bear had disappeared.

Then all attention was directed to the prize, which by rough measurement was nearly three yards in length, and as ponderous-looking as some huge bull, while another rough measurement showed that it had been a long way on toward five feet in height as it stood.

The boat soon after returned from the ship, with the other two Norwegians, who set to work at once to help, and by their united efforts the great, heavy skin was stripped off and carried by one of the men to the shore.

The head was cut off by means of an axe, so that it might be preserved with its large, grinning, ivory teeth; and then the men busied themselves over the rather disgusting operation of cleaning off all the fat from the body, genuine bear's grease being a valuable commodity. This, too, was borne to the boat for rendering down in the caldron fixed in the fore part of the ship, in connection with a steam-pipe from the engine-boiler. In the course of the proceeding the bear was opened, and the sight that presented itself went a long way toward satisfying Steve that the slaying of a polar bear was not so unnecessary a work after all.

"Much better for the seals of the neighbourhood," said the captain grimly, as Johannes pointed out the fact that their quarry must have killed and eaten a good-sized seal that day, the unfortunate animal having been chopped into big fragments by the bear's tremendous teeth, the food they had seen it searching for being probably taken just as an amusement—pour passer le temps.

The huge piles of muscle laid bare upon the neck and shoulders of the animal told of such great strength that the wonder was that the dog had not been killed; but there he crouched so little the worse, that all of a sudden he made a dash by Johannes, stuck his teeth in the still warm flesh, and gave it an angry shake—that is to say, held on and shook his own head and neck, for the ponderous mass of flesh was pretty well immovable.

The piles of fat had all been cleverly removed and sent on board, and as no one evinced any desire to partake of bear-steaks or sirloin, the sailors announced their work as done just as Andrew uttered a shout of warning—"Look out!"

"What is it?" cried the captain, who had been vainly trying to get a shot at a bird or two tempting enough for supper.

"The bear coming."

"Where away?"

"Three points on the port bow, sir!" cried Andrew, who treated his rocky look-out place as a ship.

The captain took out his little binocular glass and swept the shore, to make out the second bear away in the distance, walking slowly along on the top of the ice-floe which shut them in to the north. It was raising its head on high, and evidently on the look-out for its mate.

"What do you say, Handscombe?" said the captain; "shall we tackle it? There is a good chance if we can approach the animal unobserved."

"For my part, I say no," replied the doctor, as the Norwegians, who had been ridding themselves of the traces of their unpleasant task, picked up their spears. "I have had enough bear for one day, and should like some beef. It's past twelve."

"Oh, it must be later than that!" cried Steve. "Why, we've been hours and hours ashore. I should have thought it was six o'clock."

"No," said the doctor, smiling. "My watch keeps good time. I say a quarter to twelve."

"Then we'll go on board," said the captain. "I, too, had no idea it was so late."

"Early?" suggested Steve.

"Why, Steve!" cried the captain, clapping him on the shoulder, "don't you know where we are? This is the land of the midnight sun."

The boy stared at him in astonishment, then due north at the sun, which was shining with a softer and less piercing light than usual, while the captain and his friend the doctor exchanged glances and looked amused at the boy's confusion.

He now looked round him, toward the ship and the ice; and then, as if struck by a happy thought, he thrust his hand into his pocket and took out a little compass, which he carefully placed level on a block of stone, watching it till the needle had ceased to vibrate.

"Well?" said the captain, smiling.

"That's the north," said Steve, with his forehead wrinkled.

"Of course; we knew that before."

"And the sun looks as if it were just going to set in the wrong place, sir."

"Yes, my lad; but it is not going to set. In another quarter of an hour it will be at its lowest point, and then begin to rise higher and travel apparently eastward to the south. You wanted to see the midnight sun. There it is; but I hope you'll see it to greater perfection when we get farther north."

"Yes; but won't it set at all?" cried Steve.

"No; we shall have what will seem like endless day for the rest of the summer."

"And shan't want lamps?"

"No, not for a long time to come."

"But, then, shan't we want to go to bed and sleep?"

"Oh yes," said the doctor, laughing; "and I shall be very glad to get my dinner—supper, I mean—and then go. So let's get back on board."

But Steve did not move for a minute or two. He stood staring at the sun, beneath which the ice was glittering, while the snow upon the mountains flashed and looked more beautiful than ever. At last he shouldered his gun.

"I'm very stupid, I suppose," he said at last, as he looked from one to the other. "I learned all about it at school, and I suppose I knew all this; but now I'm right amongst it everything seems puzzling. I can't understand how this can be night; but it will all come right by-and-by."

"Of course," said the captain, smiling; "but it looks as if the dog understands what puzzles you."

Steve looked round.

"Why, he's asleep."

"Yes; and look about you. Where are the birds? I don't see one on the wing."

"There are thousands up yonder on the ledges," said Steve, pointing to the lines of black-backed and white-breasted puffins and grey gulls.

"Yes, my lad; but they're all roosting," said the captain. "All ready, my lads? Now, then, for the boat."

"Here, Skeny, wake up, old chap!" cried Steve, forcing a laugh. "Sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night, but you'll be able to see."

The dog did not stir till his master bent down and touched him, when he started into wakefulness, got up stiffly, shook himself and made his ears rattle, and then yawned in a very human way.

"Come along, then," cried Steve, starting to follow the rest, and the dog wagged his tail and began to trot to his side, but in a lame, stiff fashion.

Just then, though, he caught sight of the great carcass of the bear. Up went the hair about his throat and neck; he gave a fierce growl, forgot his lameness, and dashed at the bear's throat, stuck his teeth into it, and tried to give it a shake; then, loosening his hold reluctantly, he followed his master to the boat, which soon after reached the side of the Hvalross, where the cook announced the meal to be in perfect readiness, and to it tremendous justice was done.

"Seems nonsense to go to bed now, doesn't it?" said Steve, as they returned on deck to see the island beginning to grow distant as the vessel steamed slowly north-north-east, about a mile away from the solid blue-and-silver wall of ice on their left.

"Yes," said the doctor quietly; "but we must have rest. All this has come upon you so suddenly, because we have been shut up so long in that terrible fog."

"But we're leaving Jan Mayen for good, then?"

"Yes; there was nothing to stay for."

"And if we keep right on like this, where shall we go to next?"

"Come, come," said the doctor playfully; "you ought to know the chart. I can tell you that."

"I know I ought to be able to say," replied Steve, with his brow wrinkled again; "but I'm puzzled, sir. I don't seem to have grasped it yet. Where are we making for?"

"Well, if the ice would let us get up there, we are going pretty straight for the North Pole; but I expect this great wall will keep us more to the east, and before long, if the weather keeps fine, we shall be sighting the land of peaks and mountains."

"Spitzbergen?" cried Steve.

"Well done; you have not forgotten everything."

"No, not quite. And we shall be amongst the walrus, seals, and reindeer, and—"

"To-morrow morning, boy!" cried the doctor. "It's rather soon after a heavy supper."

"But isn't it to-morrow morning to-day—I mean to-night—I mean—?"

"Bed, Steve, bed!" cried the doctor. "Come along, and I'll set you the example. Your head will be clearer after a good rest, and you won't be so ready to make bulls."

"Very well," said the boy, "I'll go; but I'm sure I shan't sleep a wink. It's impossible, with the sun shining so bright and clear."

But it was not, for in a quarter of an hour he was soundly off, breathing heavily, and too thoroughly tired out to dream about the encounter with the bear.



CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE WHITE WHALE SHOAL.

"What a horrid smell, Hamish! What is it?" cried Steve, going forward.

"Bear's grease, sir. They're chust cooking the fat we got yesterday. Like to ha'e some in a pot for your hair?"

"What? Nonsense!"

"Mak' your whiskers grow, sir," said the man, grinning. "Look yonder; Watty Links has been for some. Leuk at his head."

Steve did look, to see that the boy's red hair was streaky, gummy, and shining, as he had been applying the grease wholesale—that is, with more liberality than care.

For the bear's fat—some three hundred and fifty pounds' weight—was in the great caldron surrounded by steam, which hissed beneath it from the engine-boiler as the Hvalross glided slowly along about half a mile from the low, regular ice cliff, which stretched away apparently without end, glittering and displaying its lovely delicate tints of pale blue wherever it was shattered or riven at the edge.

"It does seem rum," said Steve to himself, "for the sun to be always up—let's see, what do you call it?—above the horizon."

As he reached the caldron he found Jakobsen, with his sleeves rolled above his brawny elbows, busily at work superintending the rendering down, and he looked up and gave the boy a friendly nod.

"Well, opposition cook!" cried Steve, laughing; "breakfast ready? What is it, bear-soup?"

"No, sir," said the man seriously, "only the fat."

"Ah, well, I won't taste that," said Steve; and he went on to where his comrades Andersen and Petersen were busy over the great outstretched bear's skin, which they were cleaning and dressing so that it should be perfectly preserved. Johannes was seated on a stool with a keg between his legs, the little tub being turned up to form a table, on which rested the great grinning head of the slain animal, whose skull he was carefully cleaning from every particle of flesh and fat, throwing the scraps overboard to the great cloud of sea-birds which wheeled and darted and pounced down upon every morsel thrown into the sea.

"Ugh! what a disgusting job!" said Steve.

"Think so, sir? Oh no, it's clean enough—quite fresh." And he threw over a handful of bear-flesh, after cutting it in small pieces.

"Why did you do that?" asked Steve.

"To give all the birds a chance."

"Oh! I say, how hungry they seem!"

"Yes, they do, sir. I often wonder how they live at all in the stormy times."

Steve watched till the last scrap had been snatched from the crystal clear water, and then looked round as the Norseman flung in some more fragments which he had scraped from the massive skull.

"Seems only fair, sir, eh? The bears get fat on the young birds when they can reach them on the cliffs, and now the birds can get fat on the bear."

"Why, it's like making cannibals of them," said Steve, "eating their own children second-hand."

"Yes, sir," said Johannes, pausing to whet his curious knife; "but that's how things are. One lives upon another. Birds, beasts, and fishes, they're all alike. But this will make a noble head when the skin's dressed, and a pair of glass eyes put in, and the whole stuffed out a little. It will make you think about killing it when you get home."

"I don't want to think about killing the poor brute," said Steve shortly. "Here, where's my dog? Skeny!"

There was a sharp bark in answer, but no dog appeared.

"Where is he? Here, Skeny, Skeny!"

The dog answered with another sharp bark, and, directed by the sound, the boy advanced to find the collie curled up on a tarpaulin right forward under the bowsprit.

"Hullo, old chap! why don't you come out?" cried Steve; but the dog only gave his tail a few short raps on the tarpaulin without moving his head, his eyes twinkling up from the furry hair in which his nose was buried.

"Not ill, are you?" continued Steve, bending down to pat his companion, but eliciting a whine, as if the caress had given pain.

"He's only trying to sleep it off, sir," said Johannes, scattering some more food to the gulls, which dashed at it screaming. "I felt him over this morning. He's a good bit bruised, but no bones broken."

"Did he let you—didn't he try to bite?"

"Oh no," said the man with quiet confidence; "a dog won't bite you when he's hurt, if he knows you want to do him good. We're friends, aren't we, Skene?"

The dog rapped the tarpaulin with his tail, and then lay curled up a little closer, perfectly still.

"It's wonderful, sir, how soon animals mend up again without doctoring. A few licks, a little going on short food, and plenty of sleep, and they soon come round. One may do worse than imitate them sometimes."

Steve made no reply, for the simple reason that he had nothing to say; but he could not help wondering what Mr Handscombe would think, as he got up on the bowsprit just where it passed out over the vessel's prow, held on by the rigging, and had a good look round. But on his left there was nothing but the long, low ice cliff; on his right the glittering sea, flecked with grey sea-birds floating above or calmly sitting on the blue water.

He leaped down, gave Skene a pat, promised him some breakfast, and was going aft toward the galley, but just then Johannes had turned the skin back over the bare skull, pretty well restoring the shape of the head, and he held it up.

"Make a grand ornament, sir, when it's done. Fine ivory teeth, hasn't it?"

"Yes. Lend it to me a moment."

He took hold of the head, and at that moment became conscious of the fact that Watty's greasy shock head was thrust outside of the galley, and that the lad was watching him with a sneering grin upon his countenance. There was not the slightest occasion to take any notice, but these derisive grins made Steve feel hot, and as if he must punch that head as hard as ever he could, for if he did not he told himself that the annoyance would grow worse. He paid no further heed to the boy then, but carried the heavy head to where Skene lay curled up to try the effect upon the dog. That was visible directly in the ruffling up of the thick frill and a low, deep growl; but the next minute Skene gave a short bark, and curled his tail over his nose again, as if quite satisfied that he was only being played with, and Steve bore back the trophy.

"Knows better," said Johannes, smiling in his grave way; "dogs have got more sense than we think for."

"Cooks' boys haven't," said Steve shortly, as he heard a low, jeering chuckle, and saw that Watty had been watching him all the time, and now drew in his head for a few moments, but thrust it out again to indulge in another grin, which made Steve writhe and show his annoyance so plainly that the Norseman said quietly:

"Don't take any notice of his sauce."

"No, I won't," said Steve shortly, as the head was withdrawn. But the next moment—the cook being apparently too much engaged to notice the conduct of his help—Watty thrust out his head again, and, seeing the annoyance he gave, uttered another low, derisive chuckle.

Steve, unable to control himself, made an angry gesture, and the boy withdrew his grinning face.

"He'll do it again directly," thought Steve; and, acting on the impulse of the moment, he caught up the bear's head, ran sharply the few steps to the galley door, stood ready close up to the side waiting; and as Watty thrust out his face again grinning, it was into another so fierce and horrible-looking that he stood for a moment petrified, and then uttered a loud yell, darted back, and slammed to the door.

Steve felt better after that, and hurriedly returned the bear's head prior to seeing about breakfast, for another odour saluted his nostrils, that of frizzling bacon—so suggestive a smell to a hungry lad that he made for the cabin at once, to find the captain, Mr Lowe, and Mr Handscombe just gathered for their morning meal.

The breakfast was hardly over when there was a hail from aloft, where Andrew McByle was occupying the crow's-nest.

"There she spouts!" he cried; and Steve was the first on deck to see the whale, for he knew the meaning of the sailor's cry.

Running to the main-mast he mounted the shrouds for some twenty feet, and then, with his arm thrust through the ratlines and embracing one of the taut stays of the mast, he stood gazing in astonishment at the sight before him. For he had hurried on deck fully expecting to see one of the great dark Greenland whales diving down after food, coming to the surface again to blow, and then throw its flukes high in the air with a flourish as it dived once more. But, instead of a single whale, the sea appeared to be alive with them, playing about in the water, gambolling on the surface or diving under. Then they were up again, making the sea foam as they flourished their tails, uttered a strange, faint, snorting sound as they blew and whistled, and dived down once more. But it was not playing, for they were in chase of an enormous shoal of small fish, upon which they were feasting.

There was quite an excitement amongst the men, who, without waiting for orders, saw to the tackle in the boats, Johannes and Petersen hastening to add white whale harpoons to the rest of the implements.

"Well, Steve, my lad," cried the doctor, "what do you think of the shoal? You ought to have brought your fishing-rod and line."

"Nonsense!" said the lad shortly; "but I say, Mr Handscombe, you don't call these whales?"

"What, then, my lad? They're white whales."

"Young ones? Then that's why they are white."

"No, my lad, old ones. Look; plenty of them have got their two young ones with them."

"Oh, but surely these are not full-grown whales! Why, the biggest can't be sixteen feet long."

"Quite right; about fourteen, I should say. Come down; you'll want to go in one of the boats. Look; they've got in the lines."

Steve looked down, and saw that the men were carefully stowing two tubs in the fore part of the boats, each tub containing, in carefully laid-down rings, about a hundred and fifty yards of strong line.

"But surely they're not going to harpoon those baby whales like they do the big ones?"

"Yes, just the same, lad. Come down if you want to have some of the sport."

The captain stepped into one boat, and Steve followed, the doctor going off in the other with Jakobsen and the crew.

The next minute the word was given to sit fast and be silent, and the boats were rowed rapidly toward the great shoal, which must have numbered a thousand or fifteen hundred, while the water was one mass of foam.

"Are these good, these white whales?" said Steve to the captain, as the boat cut through the water, and Johannes stood ready with his harpoon, a very different implement from that provided for the walrus, being barbed so as to form a kind of hook, and, once through, could not be withdrawn from the gutta-percha-like side, of which it would take up a loop tough enough to hold the stoutest sea-horse they could strike. The harpoon used for the white whale was lighter, and had a head which somewhat resembled a half-moon, fitted to work at the end of the shaft, and slight, so that one point of the half-moon would stand in a line with the pole, while the other was secured by a band to the shaft. When the harpoon was driven into the whale, the band which held the second point of the head down to the pole was pushed off in passing through the skin and flesh, while at the first tug upon the line attached to the harpoon the loose head would be drawn crosswise, forming instead of a spear a double barb, which was strong enough to hold in the flesh without being drawn out.

The captain was too intent upon the shoal to answer Steve's question, which he repeated.

"Good, my lad? Yes. The oil is the purest and best to be had, and very valuable; but of course not to be obtained in such quantities as are procured from the larger whales. I hope we shall get three or four, though. They will help to fill up our tanks."

"I wish he'd think more of finding the Ice Blink than of filling the tanks," thought Steve; but the next moment he, too, was thinking of nothing but the shoal of fish, as the men called them, though they were air-breathing animals instead; for now the chase became exciting. The belugas seemed to take no notice of the boats, but they were going rapidly through the water in chase of their prey, and when a fine one was selected it dived and went away swiftly beneath the water, so that it was difficult to tell where the creature would rise again.

Johannes gave his orders to the men, so that they might row toward the spot where the whale was likely to rise, and so give him a chance to hurl his harpoon before the animal had time to dive again. But this was not easy. Whether the curious blunt-nosed, white-skinned, active creature, with its back clear of all fish-like fin, was on the alert for the coming harpoon or for the meal it was seeking it is impossible to say, but certainly it showed a remarkable activity in keeping just out of reach. It would rise just exactly where not expected, and the whole business of the chase had to be gone through again and again.

Steve was too much occupied with the efforts of their own harpooner to pay any heed to what was going on aboard the other boat, and divided his time between watching the tall, active Norseman and the spot where it was anticipated that the whale would rise.

At last, after hard pulling, fortune favoured the men's efforts. They had had a long tug, and there being no sign of the quarry they sought Johannes bade the rowers rest, while he stood with one foot resting upon the gunwale expectant.

"It's of no use," said the captain; "it must have gone right on. Look, Steve, how plentiful they are yonder. That's where we ought to have the boat."

He pointed to where pretty well a hundred of the great creatures were flapping in and out of the water; but Steve shook his head.

"Be too dangerous," he said. "Ah, look!"

He started to one side, for at that moment something of a creamy-white suddenly shot out of the water close to the bows of the boat, rose high with a graceful bend, and was curving over to make a plunge down into the depths, when—whish! thud!—the harpoon was thrown; it stuck a short distance behind the creature's head, and then with one blow the water was sent flying over the occupants of the boat, while the line was running rapidly out of the tub as the white whale disappeared from sight.

Like its relative the leviathan, of fifty or sixty feet in length, which boasts of a mouth big enough to hold a jollyboat and crew, who would doubtless find their quarters exceedingly uncomfortable on account of the forest of whalebone hanging down from the roof, the white whale cannot keep under water long without coming up to breathe; but the one Johannes had so cleverly struck nearly carried out the whole of the line, which Steve watched darting out ring by ring over the bows, till, in spite of the riskiness of the proceeding, the second Norseman seized the end which lay outside the tub, and gave it a hitch round a block in the bows left for the purpose.

"Be ready for a ride, Steve," said the captain, "if he does not pull us under before they can cut the rope; in that case be ready for a swim."

"The first for preference," thought Steve; but neither event occurred, for the rope suddenly ceased running, and as Johannes armed himself with one of the great lances which lay along the thwarts, his companion rapidly hauled in the slack line and laid it in rings once more.

Practice had made the man wonderfully perfect in this duty, and fathom after fathom was laid in, while the whale remained under so long that the captain shouted to Johannes:

"Has the harpoon come out?"

"I don't know yet, sir; I'm afraid so," was the reply. "These fish are so tender; they are often lost in this way."

And all the time the second man kept on hauling in the line, and the others lay on their oars, for the rope came up straight out of the deep water.

"Yes, sir, he has gone, I fear," said Johannes.

"No!" cried the other, for the slack line suddenly tightened and was jerked out of his hand; then the water parted about a dozen yards from the boat, the head of the whale appeared, and then the whole of the creature, as it rose higher, curved right over, and descended head first again, its tail giving a peculiar wave in the air before it disappeared, while all had a glimpse of the harpoon shaft, which directly after was seen floating on the surface of the water.

"Gone this time!" cried Steve in disappointed tones.

"Yes, he has gone almost straight down."

"And we have lost him?"

"I hope not, sir," said Johannes, leaning over the side, as the boat glided on, and picking up the long shaft of the harpoon.

"And you've lost the head of the harpoon, too."

"Oh no, that's fast to the line," replied the man; "the shaft is meant to come out, so that it shall not be broken."

"I did not understand that," muttered the boy, as the line that had been recovered now began to run out again as rapidly as before, hissing over the gunwale, and judging from the speed looking as if the last ring would soon be out and the whale dragging at the boat.

The captain was evidently of the same opinion, for he spoke to Johannes, who was standing like a statue with his lance ready.

"Will he snap the line, do you think?"

"No, sir. If he runs all out, we shall have a sharp tug; but the rope will hold."

"He won't pull us under water, will he?" cried Steve.

"Oh no, sir; no fear of that. He'll swim near to the top after this run, and keep on coming up to breathe. He may give us a ride. Here he comes again."

For the rope ceased running once more, showing how accurately the length of line was calculated for giving the creatures the full extent of their rush and no more.

Once more it was rapidly hauled in, and laid down in rings in the tub; but before half was recovered there was a movement, which was seized upon as a signal how to act, for the whale was not to have more line, the latter being rapidly twisted round the block, after which there was a tremendous jerk, and the boat's head was dragged down till it seemed as if it must admit the water, but the next minute it was rushing rapidly along sending a line of foam on either side. This lasted for a time, and then ceased, the whale rising and curving over once more, flourishing its tail in the air, and then apparently diving straight down.

More line was gained and ringed this time, when the tension ceased, and again the whale appeared, curved over, and dived down again. Then once more there was the shock, and the boat was dragged along again. But this was by no means so sturdy a tugging as the last, and before long the rope slackened, the whale came up for breath, and dived slowly.

In a few minutes more there ceased to be any idea of danger, for the captive was nearly exhausted, and the end was coming; for each dive was shorter in depth as well as time. The whale then tried fresh tactics, rising to the surface and rolling over and beating the water heavily with its tail; but all in vain: it could not rid itself of the deeply plunged harpoon, and lay for a few moments perfectly quiet.

All at once it seemed to become aware of the fact that the boat which was approaching it rapidly had something to do with its trouble, and diving suddenly it made a rush for it; but the oars were cleverly managed, and its aim frustrated, while as it passed close by the bows Johannes' great lance struck it full, penetrating deeply before it was snatched out, and the next minute the whale was a dozen yards astern lashing the water with its tail.

An order or two rapidly executed, and the boat was pulled to within safe distance; Johannes made two tremendous lunges with his lance, and the whale turned slowly over and lay quivering for a few minutes; then it was still, and the men gave a cheer.

"Poor whale," thought Steve, who was far from being hardened over such matters; but he tried to think that this capture meant so many gallons of beautifully clear oil, and money for defraying the expenses of their search, and he now stood up to have a good long look at their prize, which was fully fifteen feet long and proportionately heavy.

And now, the excitement of the chase being over, the question arose where was the Hvalross, and where was the other boat? These questions were answered by the two vessels, which formed with them a triangle, whose sides were about a mile in length; while, to add to the satisfaction of the adventure, the other boat was showing a signal, and they could see that it was towing something astern.

Meanwhile Johannes and his fellow-harpooners were busily securing a rope to their prize and drawing in and laying up their line. Next the harpoon was carefully cut out from where it was deeply imbedded in the animal's back; and then the boat's head was turned for the ship, which was steaming slowly towards them as they rowed on towing their carefully secured prize astern.

"I'm glad they've had good luck, too," said Steve; "but, I say, what has become of the shoal?"

"Gone right away, sir," replied Johannes. "We startled them, and they smelt danger. We may catch up to them by-and-by."

"Not to-day," said Captain Marsham quietly. "Pull, my lads;" and he steered so that they might get nearer to their companions' boat and the Hvalross be reached by them both at once.

"You are right, sir," said Johannes in his quiet, independent, but respectful manner; "we shall not see the whales again to-day, and we must make haste if we are to reach the ship before it comes."

"Before what comes?" said Steve, wondering at the man's manner.

"Look," he said, pointing to the north-west.

"What at?" replied Steve; "the long line of ice?"

"No," said Captain Marsham. "Look right beyond the ire. Another of those pests—troubles of arctic voyaging, my boy," he continued, correcting himself.

"What, that silvery-looking cloud over the ice? Does that mean wind?"

"I wish it did, Steve, so as to save our coal. No, boy; it means another of those dense mists. I hope only a passing one; but you have had a taste of what an arctic fog can be like. We must make haste; these mists creep on so swiftly. Make a signal, Johannes. The Hvalross must come on and pick us up, or we shall have to cast off our fish."

The next minute a little flag was hoisted in the bows to the end of one of the lance-poles, with the result that there was soon after a cloud of black smoke rolling out of the steamer's funnel and an increase in the white water at her stern; but the boat went no faster, for the white whale was heavy, although the men pulled with a will.

"They ought to see the fog coming on in the other boat," said the captain impatiently. "Of course if we are shut in we shall be able to reach the Hvalross. We could do that by listening for their signals, which they would be sure to make; but I hate unnecessary anxiety, Steve, and it is very awkward to be caught by one of these dense mists— everything is so puzzling."

He ceased speaking, and sat watching the other boat making, like themselves, slowly for the same point. And now, seeing the urgency, Johannes and his brother Norsemen seated themselves and put out spare oars to help on the speed. But the whale they were towing seemed to anchor them in one place; and at last, just as the steamer was still quite half a mile away, a peculiar change came over the sea. The sun was still shining brightly, but the other boat grew dim and enlarged-looking, as if it were magnified and set in a bluish opal. There was the long range of ice cliff, but it was curiously blue and undefined.

"I say," cried Steve suddenly, "what's the matter with the Hvalross?"

He started from his seat as he spoke, for the steamer was no longer upon the blue water,—there was no blue water,—but apparently twenty feet up in the air, and gradually rising higher till it was double the height, while the funnel, masts, and hull looked soft and swollen out of all proportion.

"An optical illusion, my boy," said the captain quietly. "Sit down. You have heard of refraction. It is a peculiar state of the air. I daresay we look the same to them. Pull, my lads. I'm afraid the mist will be down upon us before we can reach the ship. Look at that."

Steve was already looking at the peculiar way in which their companion boat was dying out of sight, till it was perfectly invisible; and yet it was clear about where they were, only for a few minutes, though. Then there was a faint, gauzy film close by, into which they rowed, and as they passed completely in, the Hvalross was almost hidden; five minutes later it was not to be seen.

The mist was upon them, thickening each moment, and a curiously depressing chill came over the boy. It was as if the cold were attacking his mind as well as his body, and he quite started as the deep voice of Johannes said, the words sounding muffled:

"Keep your helm fast, sir. We mustn't miss the ship."

"Mustn't miss the ship," thought Steve, with a strange sense of dread creeping over him now like another and darker mist. "If we did miss her, what then?"



CHAPTER TWELVE.

A STRANGE PERIL.

It seemed hard to believe, so rapidly had the change taken place. Only a few minutes before, and they were gliding along with the blue sky above and the air perfectly clear; now everything was shut out, even Johannes in the bows of the boat looking indistinct from where Steve and the captain were seated in the stern.

Captain Marsham made no verbal reply to the warning of the Norseman, but his right arm which held the steering oar grew rigid, and he did not stir from his position.

Steve was no experienced sailor, but he had seen plenty of the last fog, and as he sat there growing anxious the following problem presented itself to him after the fashion of the mathematical studies at school, and based on the difficulty of making a way through what was little better than black darkness. Let A, B, and C represent the points of a triangle. If three parties start together from those points to reach a common centre, and travel at different rates of speed, when will they meet?

"It looks as if the answer is—never," thought Steve. "Why, the Hvalross is steaming faster—we saw her; and she'll go right on and leave us behind. This fog, too, may last for days."

"Keep cool, my lad," said the captain in a low voice; "we shall soon be on board. Listen, and try if you can hear the beat of the propeller."

Those words sent a hopeful thrill through the boy, just as his spirits were getting very low indeed, and he leaned over the boat's side listening, but the regular dip, dip of the oars was all he could distinguish. He did not speak; there was no need.

"Steady!" cried the captain suddenly, and his voice sounded as if it were shut in. "Lie on your oars for a few moments. Listen for the beat of the steamer."

There was dead silence then, and Steve began to realise for the first time in his life the meaning of the word "lost."

But no sound came to their ears from out of the mist which now surrounded them, and seemed to arch them in as if they were in a dark grey cell just big enough to hold the boat.

"Had we better cast off the fish, sir," said Johannes at last, "and pull hard?"

"No," said Captain Marsham; "matters are not so desperate as that. Here, Steve boy, your voice is the youngest and most likely to pierce the mist; give a good ahoy."

"Ahoy!" yelled the boy, and again, "Ahoy! ahoy!" but the hail sounded as if he were shouting with his head closely shut in a box, and all felt that it was useless to listen for a reply.

"You hail, Johannes, as you would do if alone."

The Norseman rose up, placed his hands to his mouth, and uttered a bellowing roar. But though this was repeated again and again there was no reply.

"Give way!" cried the captain, and the oars began to dip, the men rowing steadily without a word, trusting themselves entirely to their captain as the one who must know best under the circumstances; while Steve, who felt that he ought to be perfectly calm and cool, knew that moment by moment he was growing more nervous and uncomfortable, haunted as he was by the idea that they might never reach the Hvalross, and be left alone in that icy solitude, without weapons or provisions, to try and reach Jan Mayen, and find the refuge they had thought possible for the others.

"There is the wrecked ship," he said to himself, as thoughts came swiftly; "it would do for a shelter, and we should have to live on sea-birds, unless we could find that after all there are some stores buried in the ship's hold under the sand."

"Steady!" cried the captain just then, interrupting the flow of his wild thoughts; and the men rested on their oars again, while shout after shout was sent up, but with no reply.

"We must have come far enough," muttered Captain Marsham; and he hesitated as he vainly tried to pierce the dense medium which surrounded them. "We'll lie on our oars and drift a little while," he said aloud; "the fog will pass over soon. What do you say, Johannes?"

"One never knows, sir," replied the man gravely; "but it is of no use to go on rowing; we must have passed the ship, for there is a strong current here."

"Well, we shall see."

They sat listening till, growing fidgety, Steve turned to lean over the stern and take hold of the rope which held the beluga. The great fish-like creature yielded to the drag and came close up, but its head was hardly discernible, and it looked so weird and strange that the boy loosed his hold with a shudder, expecting that it would float away. But it remained stationary for a few moments, and then, urged by the current, rubbed heavily against the boat's side, imperceptibly altering its position by dragging round the stern.

After listening patiently for some time, the captain drew a little compass from his pocket and placed it beside him on the thwart, waiting till it was steady, when he exclaimed in quite a startled tone:

"Which way were we pulling, my men?"

"About due west, sir."

"But the boat's head lies south, and we have been going right away from the steamer. Here, pull hard starboard, backwater port!" he cried; and as the oars dipped he bent down and watched the compass till he found the boat's head pointing north-east, when he shouted, "All together: give way!"

It was a relief to feel that something was being done to extricate them from their awkward predicament, and the men pulled hard for the next ten minutes or so, when, at a word from Captain Marsham, they easied, and a fresh howl was sent forth to penetrate the fog. But this had no better result than the last, and once more the order was given to pull and obeyed with fresh vigour, when Steve suddenly leaped up.

"I heard it then," he said.

"Hold hard!" cried Captain Marsham, and the oars hung dripping over the side. "Heard what, my lad?"

"The steamer's whistle, quite plainly."

There was a dead silence at this as all listened, but not a sound reached them but the drip, drip, drip of the water from the blades of the oars.

"Mistaken, I'm afraid, Steve, my lad," said the captain. "Any one of you hear the whistle?"

There was no reply.

"Give way, my lads."

Splash went the oars, and at that moment Steve cried excitedly:

"There it is again, right astern!"

"Nonsense, boy!" said the captain;—"imagination. We should have heard it too. Pull, my lads, pull."

The men dragged at their oars, and Steve sank down in his place feeling abashed, but perfectly certain all the same that he had heard the whistle. At the end of a few minutes the captain said kindly:

"It's very easy to be deceived, my lad, and to fancy we hear that which we wish to hear. Johannes, come aft here, and cast off this little fish. We shall have enough to do without towing it."

"Cast it off, sir?" said the man as soon as he had passed the rowers, and he opened his great knife slowly.

"Yes; it is too heavy to drag. Well, why do you hesitate?"

"I was thinking, sir."

"Well, think afterwards. Don't cut the rope; you can untie it."

"Yes, sir," said the man slowly; and in a voice which did not reach the others, "but had I not better tell you what I was thinking first?"

"Well, go on," said the captain shortly.

"We might want the whale—for food."

Captain Marsham gave quite a start, for there was so much meaning in those few words, suggestive as they were of their being starving in the open boat, and he sat there gazing full in the man's eyes.

"You think, then, that we may not find the ship?" he said in a whisper.

"The good God only knows," said the Norseman, taking off his cap. "We are in His hands; but it is our duty to provide for the worst."

"Yes," said the captain slowly, "you are quite right, my man; let the fish stay."

"There!" cried Steve, starting up again. "I'm sure I heard it then!"

"Steve!" cried the captain angrily, as he turned sharply on the boy.

"Yes, I heard it then," said Johannes slowly, as he held his hands behind his ears and leaned toward the stern.

"You heard it?"

"Yes; there again. Listen, captain."

"I hear nothing."

"No, it has stopped now."

Captain Marsham made an impatient gesture.

"There!" cried Steve excitedly.

"Yes, there!" said Johannes. "You heard it then, sir?"

"No," said the captain after a few moments' listening. "You must both be mistaken."

"No, sir," said the Norseman gravely, "I am not mistaken; that was a steamer's whistle."

"Then it cannot be ours."

"Perhaps not, sir; but it was a steamer's whistle, a signal, and it is dead astern. Shall we run back?"

"Yes; we must get on board something as soon as we can. This may be some whaler caught in the fog. Pull, my lads, and I will steer you round."

Captain Marsham looked down at the dimly seen compass on the thwart beside him, and gradually got the boat's head south-west.

At the end of half an hour's pulling the captain suddenly exclaimed:

"Yes, I heard it then! Did you?"

"I have heard it several times since we changed our course," said Johannes quietly.

"Indeed! and you, Steve?"

"Yes, sir, I've heard it, too."

"Then why didn't you speak?"

Steve was silent, and the captain listened again.

"Yes, that is a steamer's whistle undoubtedly, and perhaps not very distant."

"She can't be very far away, sir. If she were, we could not have heard her at all."

The men were cheery now, and pulled with a steady stroke, making but little way on account of the heavy load they were towing; but the fact of their hearing the vessel, of which there was no doubt now, inspirited them.

"Stop!" said the captain suddenly. "Now, Steve, hail!"

As the boy sent forth as loud an ahoy as his lungs would allow there was a dull, smothered wail off astern, very near at hand, evidently, one moment, and the next sounding distant and far away.

"Hail again!" cried the captain; and this time Johannes gave forth one of his hoarse, deep roars, the sound seeming to return upon them, but there was no reply.

"Hail again, Steve," and the boy shouted; but still without result.

Then Johannes sent forth another of his sonorous roars, and all laid on their oars and listened, when, so softly as to be almost imperceptible as the men held their breath, there came a low hail, which grew fainter and fainter and then died away.

"That was the Hvalross, I'm sure!" cried Steve excitedly, as the boat's course was altered once more.

"Yes; and she's hanging about to find us," said the captain. "Cheer up, my lads. She won't go far without trying back; she can't be far away."

The men tugged at their oars, but there was no answering cheer; even the great Norseman was silent, while, as Steve settled down in his place once more, he felt as if they were to be left to take their chance on the outskirts of the region of ice, for, after signalling till they were weary, the Hvalross must be steaming right away.



CHAPTER THIRTEEN.

OCCUPANTS OF THE DEEP.

Saddened faces met the gaze of the occupants of the stern sheets, as the men steadily tugged away at their oars hour after hour, with the heavy beluga hanging from its rope behind. Then all at once, when the mist was most dense, the silence perfect, and a feeling coming over all that it would be impossible to go on rowing much longer, every one loosed his oar and joined in a loud cheer; for from quite close at hand—so near, in fact, that the mist swayed with the concussion—there was the dull, heavy roar of a cannon.

"The Hvalross!" cried Steve.

"Yes, our signal-gun," replied the captain.

A faint cheer like the distant echo of that from the boat was now heard, the men bent to their oars with renewed vigour, and ten minutes later, guided by shout after shout, the boat suddenly glided under the counter of the vessel.

"Why, we thought we had lost you!" cried the doctor, leaning over from the gangway.

"Then you got back?"

"Yes, hours ago. The ship came right upon us, nearly running us down. But what a fog!"

"Yes," said Captain Marsham drily, "what a fog! You seem to have been more fortunate than we were. Save your fish?"

"Oh yes; they've got it towing alongside. And you, did you cut yours adrift?"

"No; it is alongside, too."

All were too tired to make an attack upon the whales that day, and after a good meal the watch was set, and those at liberty sought relief from their weariness in sleep, leaving the ship lying to and with the fires going sufficiently to enable the engineer to get up steam at a very short notice and take the ship out of danger if any came near.

Steve awoke after many hours' sleep to find that a light breeze had swept away the mist, and that they were lying about ten miles away from the ice, toward which they had partly drifted, partly steamed, during the heavy mist. It was another example of the difficulties of navigation in the north, another of the risks to which sailors are exposed. But now that the trouble had passed it was almost forgotten, the men being eagerly at work cutting up the two whales and transferring their thick blubber to the caldron, from which a clear, sweet oil was soon after being drawn off and emptied into one of the tanks that henceforth would be reserved for this particular kind of oil.

The trouble of the past day was forgotten, and the men were ready to make light of it all, save the Norwegian sailors, who shook their heads when the others laughed and bantered them about getting lost; they knew the reality of the danger better, and said nothing either to make much or light of it.

The rendering down of the bear's fat and the boiling of the whale blubber into oil rather disgusted Steve; but he contented himself with making a face when the doctor talked about it.

"Must take the rough with the smooth," he said. "The bear-hunt was very exciting and the whale-fishing grand. I think I shall get Johannes to let me try harpooning."

"You mean," said the doctor, "that you must take the smooth with the rough."

"Why? I don't understand you," replied the boy.

"The smooth oil with the rough work of capturing."

"Oh, I see!" cried Steve.

"And you mean to try harpooning?"

"Why not, sir? I tried shooting."

"Wait till you have some more muscle on your arm, Steve," said the doctor, laughing; and then, after a look round at the sunlit sea, on which they were gliding easily along with plenty of canvas spread, as there was a favourable wind, he went below.

"Wait till I've got more muscle," muttered Steve. "I've got as much as most fellows of my age. Yes, as much as you have, Mr Watty Links; and I'll show you that I have one of these days," he added, as he caught sight of the boy watching him with a supercilious smile on his face. "No, I won't," thought Steve, as the boy disappeared. "Nice blackguard I should look fighting with a fellow like that. Why, he might lick me," he added after a few moments' thought. "I'm not afraid of him, but he's bigger and stronger than I am, and he might. I should never forgive myself," he said half aloud. "Yes, I should," he muttered, smiling at his fresh idea, "when I had had another try and licked him. Bother! I didn't come to sea to fight. Here, Jakobsen, where's Johannes?"

The man smiled and pointed upward.

"What do you mean? Oh, I see; in the crow's-nest."

"Yes, with the captain's spy-glass." Steve had not been aloft since the day when the tub was fixed to the main-mast, and without pausing to think of anything that was said upon that occasion he climbed on to the bulwarks, seized hold of the shrouds, and began to mount slowly and steadily, enjoying the soft breeze blowing by him, and noticing how different the sails looked aloft from what they did from the deck. The main-mast was passed, and he rested in the top for a few minutes to have a look round at the glittering sea, so brilliant now in the clear atmosphere. Then he had a look upward, and began to mount again quietly, and in an easy, effortless way, as if he enjoyed the task. He paused again, holding on by the shrouds as he looked up once more, to see that the Norseman was intent upon something in the distance, resting the large telescope he had taken up on the ring or rail of iron raised above the top of the cask, just at a convenient height for the purpose, and in perfect ignorance of the presence of visitors. Steve smiled as he climbed higher, and paused once more as he reached the stout cross-bars which they had placed that day when the crow's-nest was built.

"Ahoy there, Johannes!" he cried.

The man gave a violent start, and turned to look over the edge of the cask.

"Mr Young!" he cried, "you there?"

"Look's like it. I've come to see you. Got any room in your nest?"

The Norseman laughed.

"Well, I daresay you could creep in. But did the captain give you leave to come aloft?"

"No; I only just made up my mind to come. Open the door; I'm coming."

"Take care, my lad!" cried the Norseman warningly. "There's no one to catch you if you slip."

"I won't slip this time," said Steve merrily; and climbing from the shrouds on to the wooden ladder, he went up from bar to bar till his head and shoulders passed into the cask, and the next minute the hinged bottom fell to again, and he had just room to stand in company with the sailor.

"I say, rather a tight fit," said Steve, laughing. "Wouldn't do for two people to quarrel packed together in a barrel like this."

"But why have you come up, sir? Did the mate send any message?"

"No, I tell you," cried Steve. "I only saw that you were up here, and thought I should like to come up for a chat."

"Very good of you, sir," said the man quietly. "Got over the scare of the fog?"

"Oh yes, now. It's of no use to worry about things when they're over. It was dangerous, though, wasn't it?"

"Very, sir," said the Norseman gravely. "Three poor fellows from our town rowed away from their ship with three Swedish men. They were after walrus. One of those fogs came on, and they were never seen again."

"No? What became of them?"

Johannes shook his head.

"The great sea is wide, sir," he replied. "The fog confused them, and they must have rowed in the wrong direction, been caught in one of the strong currents, and then tried to reach home as they could not find their ship. There are terrible losses out here in some summers."

"Was it near here that they were lost?" said Steve, after a few minutes' silence, during which he pictured the sufferings of the despairing boat's crew.

"No, sir, more to the east, by Novaya-Zemlya."

"How horrible!" said Steve with a shudder. "Tell me about something else."

"Yes, sir; I don't want to what the English sailors call spin yarns; that seemed to come naturally after our escape."

"Yes, of course; but tell me this, Johannes. Next time we go off after one of those shoals of white whales—"

"What, sir! you would go again?" said the great amiable-looking fellow, smiling.

"Of course."

"And run risks?"

"Oh, I hope there would not be any risk; but you wouldn't have me play the coward always because we were in danger once?"

"No, no, sir, of course not," said the Norseman, patting the boy on the shoulder. "Well, what if we go after the white whale again? I was trying to make out a school with the glass when you spoke and made me jump. Their oil is so fine and valuable."

"Yes, I know," said Steve impatiently; "but if we do go after a school again, I want you to let me try and harpoon one."

There was not much room to move, but Johannes, as he smiled in his big, solemn way, managed to take hold of the boy's arm, and gave the biceps a firm grip.

"Shut your hand tight and double up your arm," he said; and Steve obeyed. "Good; that will do. Now take hold of mine."

He imitated the boy's action, and Steve imitated his, taking hold of a huge mass of muscle that stood right out like a partially compressed ball.

Steve coloured a little at the man's quiet way of showing him the tremendous difference between them in the point of force.

"Well," said Johannes, smiling, "do you still think that you would like to try?"

"Yes. I know I'm only a boy, and can't pretend to have a man's strength; but I should like to try. Don't laugh at me, please."

"No, I was only smiling, my lad. Why should I laugh at one who is young because he wishes to try to be brave and manly and shows a desire to learn?"

"Oh, thank you!" cried Steve eagerly; "that is what I do feel, but people are so ready to banter and laugh at me."

"It is foolish of them," said Johannes, "unless it is when a boy is what you call conceited and self-satisfied, and thinks that he is a man too soon."

"I don't do that, indeed!" cried Steve.

"You need not tell me so," said Johannes; "I can see that in your eyes, and I know it, my boy, from your words."

"And you don't think it absurd of me to want to try and use the harpoon?"

"Oh no. It is not so much an act of strength to dart a harpoon into a soft thing like a white whale, but of practice and knack. The shaft of the harpoon is so long and heavy, that if it is directed well and with good aim it curves over and falls with its own weight as well."

"Then you will let me try!" cried Steve eagerly.

"If the captain is willing, of course you shall. I could sooner teach you to strike a whale than one of your sailors—Hamish or Andra."

"Why?" said Steve eagerly.

"Because you are young and pliant, and eager to learn. You would throw it with your head as well as with your arm. They would throw it with the arm, and trust only to their strength."

"Here, give us the telescope!" cried Steve. "I want to find a shoal and begin at once."

"I daresay," said the Norseman, smiling; "but oil-fishing is not so easy as that, or people would soon make fortunes. I have been on the look-out for hours, but there is nothing in sight."

"But there'll be plenty of walrus when we get to Spitzbergen?"

"Perhaps. I have been there when we could load our boat in a very little while, and I have been there when all through the season we have hardly seen a walrus."

"Oh, but if there are none at Spitzbergen, and we don't find the Ice Blink, we must go somewhere else."

"If," said the Norseman, smiling. "If? If what?"

"If we can. The ice may stop us."

"What, for a day or two?"

"For a season or two seasons. One can never tell, sir. The ice is king up here, and has its own way."

"Yes, but kings are conquered sometimes," said Steve merrily; "perhaps we shall master, find the Ice Blink, and go right up to the North Pole, where the open Polar Sea lies."

"No open Polar Sea lies up there, young gentleman," said Johannes gravely; and as he spoke he gazed northward with a curious far-off look in his eyes. "I have heard all of that before, but after you pass the southern edge of the floe it is all ice, ice right away. I know there is land here and there, for one year, eastward of Spitzbergen, we came upon a rocky piece of coast; but whether it was an island or a great country running for hundreds of miles, no one yet knows."

"Well, but how grand to land there and find out," said Steve eagerly. "I should like that. Would Captain Marsham sail there?" Johannes smiled.

"It does not depend on Captain Marsham," he replied. "Look," he said, pointing northward, "there is the edge of the floe. Suppose you knew that there was land two hundred miles northward, how would you sail there?"

"Of course you could not for the ice."

"That's right," said Johannes; "and so it is year by year. By about August the floe has broken up, and part of it is melted, and one can sail a little way farther north, not very far some years, at others for a long distance; but the time always comes when the ice is solid and the ship cannot pass, and then at nights it begins to freeze again, and you have to hurry back for fear of being frozen up."

"What's the matter?" cried Steve, for the Norseman suddenly raised his spy-glass and directed it eastward, where the sea looked to be one dazzling sheen of damasked silver.

There was no answer for some moments, and then the man turned to the glass.

"Look yonder," he said, "about a couple of points away to the south of the ship's jib-boom."

Steve seized the glass, and gazed through it, carefully sweeping the sea far and wide.

"Can you make it out?"

"No."

"Try a little more to the south."

"Can't see anything. Yes, I can; a ship's boat bottom upward miles away. It must be a big boat. Why, it's a small ship capsized."

"Watch it," said Johannes quietly.

"Yes, I've got it right now. You can see the copper of the bottom shining in the sun, and—oh, she's sunk! she's gone down quickly, head first, and—why, it was a whale!"