Part 7

Niven was out of his bunk in a moment, and a burst of hoarse laughter greeted him, when he stood swaying, half-awake, on the deck, in the scantiest of attire, with dismay in his face.

"What's--what's all this?" he said. "Wherever have I got to?"

"Well," said the man called Stickine they had seen in the cabin, "I guess it isn't the _Aldebaran_. Now, hadn't you better get some of those things on to you?"

Niven struggled into the garments the man pointed to, while Appleby sat on the edge of his bunk and grinned at him, and a group of men sitting in the shadow with plates upon their knees watched them both curiously. There were five or six of them, and all had bronzed faces that had been darkened by frost and ice blink, as well as sun and wind, and there was, he fancied, a difference between these men and any he had seen on board the _Aldebaran_. He came to know them later--as a few gentlemen who watched affairs of State in Vladivostock, Washington, and Ottawa did--as very daring seamen and fearless free lances, who now and then came home rich with fur seal pelts from the misty seas, in spite of the edicts and gunboats of three great nations. In the meanwhile he saw they were getting a much better breakfast than that usually sent forward on board the _Aldebaran_, and there was an air of good-humoured comradeship about them. Appleby had by this time got into his trousers, and one of the group stood up when he dropped to the deck.

"Clear away for firing practice with the turret gun!" he said.

Niven stared at him a moment, and then guessing what was meant laughed a little. "No," he said "you've missed it this time."

"Be easy while I try him," said another man, and then slammed his hand down on the table. "Eyes front. 'Tinshun company!"

"Wrong again!" said Appleby who, remembering the warships at Port Parry, surmised that they were taken for lads who had quitted their nation's service without permission.

"Sure, an' how was I to know, when the woods is thick with them!" said the seaman glancing round at his comrades deprecatingly. "Then 'tis watch your topsail leaches and mainsail haul, again."

"Yes," said Appleby, grinning, "now you've got it. If you'd had any sense you'd have seen we were too thin for navy lads, and too young for the marines."

There was a chuckle, and the man, who had twinkling blue eyes, stretched out an inviting arm. "Then come along, darling, and ate," he said.

They sat down on a chest, and one of the company gave each of them a can of very good coffee, and pointing to the great piece of fish in a frying-pan tossed a loaf in their direction.

"Ned Jordan will see you earn it, so you needn't be afraid," he said.

Appleby helped himself, and Niven laughed when he saw that the men were watching him admiringly. "They feed you well out here," he said. "We didn't get soft bread and halibut for breakfast on board the _Aldebaran_."

"This," said a grinning man, "is a great country. Now I'm going to raise you, Donegal. The lad's with me."

The man he spoke to turned with a sparkle in his eyes, and the sun that shone down the hatch glinting on his coppery hair.

"This," he said, "is not a country--'tis the sea, an' the place ye come from is made up of the leavings of the old one. 'Tis the dumping-ground for all them we've no use for yonder--bankrupts, suicides and green-and-red-blind sailors. When a gintleman in my country is too big a nuisance to his neighbours, the boys sind the hat round and prisint him wid a ticket for Canadaw."

He brought out the last word with the accentuation of the French Canadian; but the big, lean sailorman only grinned at him. "An'," he said, "fwhat was ut brought you here thin, Donegal?"

Donegal laughed softly. "A hare," said he. "She would come an' sit on the turf-wall winking--impudent at me, an' with one of the guns that was out in '98 in the cabin, what would anny man of intilligince do? She was a good gun if ye gave her time and had something sthrong to lean her on, but the magistrate--an' me owing him tin pound rint--did not agree with me. There was no Ground Game Act thin, an' ye tuck the chances when ye went shooting in my counthry. Would ye be finding the lads another loaf--one is no use to them--Brulee, and now Mainsail Haul, was it the mate or the skipper who did not agree with ye?"

Appleby realized that speech was direct here and he must hold his own. "I fancy you all know how I came here, by this time, as well as I do," he said, glancing towards Stickine. "That man was about the cabin when I told my story--and they bring you a joint when you're through with your second course in the old country."

"Hear him!" said Donegal. "Sure now, for a sailorman, 'tis Stickine that romances tremenjous, an' he told us the other one was an earl's son from the old country. 'Turn the _Champlain_ round and put me ashore--at once. What's the value of ten schooners to the father av me?' says he."

Niven looked somewhat foolish, but Appleby laughed. "Well, there was an Emperor's relative who went to sea in a merchant ship not very long ago," he said.

Donegal shook his head solemnly. "The man was mad. All thim royal families but our one is," he said.

"In the meanwhile I'd like to know a little more about where we're going and what we're going to do, now I'm one of you," said Niven. "You see, I couldn't ask the skipper too many questions."

"'Tis his condescending modesty," said Donegal. "'One of you,' says he! Sure, 'tis ten years it would take to make a man of ye, an' it takes ten more to make a man into a sealer. Stickine, will ye enlighten the son av the ducal earl?"

Niven fidgeted, for he realized that education is not everything, and that even in speech he had not shown himself the seaman's equal; but Stickine tapped on the table. "It works out like this," he said; "we're going to hear the bear growl, and the eagle scream, and if it's a white-flag gunboat, put a pinch of salt right on the beaver's tail."

"Russia," said Niven, "and America, the beaver's Canada, but what have the gunboats to do with the seals?"

"Sure," said Donegal, "'tis plain they did not teach ye very much at school. Now, the seal, ye will observe, lives most of his time where no man can get at him in the lonely sea, but wanst in the year he crawls out on the rocks of St. Paul and St. George, up in the Behring Sea, and when it is not convenient for ye to find him there ye may call at one or two reefs in Russian water or the Copper Islands."

"Well," said Niven, "where do the warships come in?"

"'Tis patient as well as modest ye are," said the sealer. "Now, 'tis not discreet of a youngster to hurry a grown man, an' that they would have taught ye wid the thick end of a gun whin ye were in the marines!"

"I was never in the marines," said Niven a trifle hotly, and Donegal sighed.

"Sure," he said, "'tis a pity, but I will prolong the discussion. Now, by the laws of the three nations ye may kill the seals at sea, though they will not help ye to find them, that being left--with other things--to the sealerman's devices, an' the sea, ye will remember, is not the sea until it's more than three miles from land."

"That's a little mixed," said Appleby, glancing at the rest of the company.

"No," said Donegal. "'Tis reason. When you are inside the three miles you are in Russia, America, or Canada, because that's just how far a big gun could blow the head off ye."

"There was once an American who figured it was ten," said Stickine dryly.

"Fighting Bob!" said somebody, and there was a hoarse guffaw, during which Donegal said quietly, "An' the lashings of dollars it cost him."

"Now, 'tis strictly prohibited to any one but the American company that rints them Pribyloff islands to kill the seals on land, an' if ye come too close on others I could tell of the Russians are not kind to ye. There was wanst a fifty-year-old schooner came home manned by starving men, an' they'd ate the last tail of the rats aboard her. 'Twas that or Siberia with them, but Stickine will tell ye the tale again."

"Then where do you catch the seals?" asked Appleby.

There was a little quiet laughter, and Donegal shook his head. "Asleep anywhere eight and ten miles out at sea, as 'tis entered in the logbook," he said. "Still, ye may discover that under circumstances unconthrollable the sealerman kills the holluschackie--where he can."

Appleby, glancing at the men's bronzed faces, fancied that their merriment was a trifle grim, but a voice came down through the hatch just then--

"If you are quite through with your talking you might come up and get more sail on her."

They went up in a body, for though Appleby had noticed already that discipline was not especially evident on board the _Champlain_ he was also to discover that nobody loitered when there was work on hand. The lads followed, and the first thing that occurred to them was that the schooner was ridiculously small. After the great length and height of the _Aldebaran_ she seemed a toy ship with two dainty little masts. Still, Appleby saw that they were tall for her length and made of the beautiful figured redwood which affords the maximum of strength. Her bowsprit was tilted high to lift the men who crawled out on it above the icy seas, and the great boom along her mainsail's foot ran out at least a fathom beyond her stern. Then he began to notice her slenderness forward in spite of the breadth of the beam that gave her stability to carry a press of sail, and the lift of the deck towards the bows which the rail carried higher in a bold curve that would keep her dry when she thrashed to windward. Between the masts stood a nest of boats packed one inside the other with their thwarts lifted out, and Niven wondered what so small a vessel did with so many. It was evident she did not carry them as a precaution, for he could see that everything about her suggested strength and safety.

About the boats stood a few Siwash Indians, squat, broad-shouldered men dressed in jean and canvas, and looking, except for their brown colour, very much like the rest of the crew. They were, it seemed, by no means savages, but again Appleby wondered, for they were doing nothing, and the _Champlain_ carried almost men enough to work an English merchant ship. Aft with half his lean height showing above the deckhouse skipper Jordan stood swaying at the wheel, and he swung one hand up when he saw the lads.

"Feeling quite pert this morning?" he said when they came aft. "Well, you can go up and loose the fore-topsail."

Though this was not the kind of order the lads had been used to they went forward, and felt that the skipper's eyes were on them when they stopped abreast of the foremast. There were no rattlings on the _Champlain's_ shrouds, and Appleby was wondering how they were to get aloft when Niven pointed to the hoops the big foresail was bound to which ran like a ladder up the mast.

"I fancy those would do?" he said.

They went up, and it was an easy matter to loose the little three-cornered topsail which stretched when set from the masthead to the end of the gaff. Then they stood still a moment or two perched high on the cross-trees looking down on the slender strip of hull and the white-topped sea. The _Champlain_ was swinging over it, and the foam that roared off from her bows and swept away down the white wake showed the pace at which she was travelling. Niven drew in a deep breath of contentment as he swung in a wide sweep to and fro, the blue of the sky above him and the blue and white of the sea below.

"I'm not sorry the _Aldebaran's_ at Port Parry, and we're here," he said. "She's a beauty, and they feed you well, while I never fancied anything twice her size could tear along like this."

"Hallo! Going to sleep up there?" said somebody, and Appleby glancing down saw a little twinkle in the eyes of Stickine.

"Topsail's all clear for hoisting, sir," he said, and one or two of those about the big man laughed. "What's the quickest way of getting down, Chriss?"

Niven stooped and grasped a rope. "Topsail tack, I think. It should do," he said.

In another second the rope was rasping between his ankles and through his hands, then it yielded suddenly and he fell at least a fathom with Appleby's feet just above his head. It held again, however, and he slid to the deck, while the rest were setting the big maintopsail with a yard along the head of it when he went aft. The skipper glanced at him a moment, and then turned to the men.

"We'll goosewing her, boys. Get your boom foresail over," he said.

He span the wheel a trifle, the long narrow foresail lurched across, and when it swung outboard on the opposite side the _Champlain_ lifted her head a little and the foam that lapped higher swept almost to her quarter-rail.

"She's flying," said Niven. "Going like a train."

Then he felt that the skipper was watching him, and wondered whether he had done anything unfitting when he saw his little, dry smile.

"It was a straight tale you told me--most of it. Stick to that kind of talk," he said.

Niven flushed a trifle, and was about to answer when Appleby kicked him, and he said, "Yes, sir," instead.

Jordan nodded. "Rich men's sons don't go to sea," he said. "Well, now, there's a thing you can remember. Never swing yourself down by anything until you know just what it is and what it's made fast to. We've no use for show tricks on board this packet, and I figure the cook will find something you can do."

They went forward, Appleby grinning, Niven somewhat flushed, and it was that night before they quite understood the skipper's meaning. The wind had fallen and the sky was hazy when they sat talking on the forehatch. Donegal leaned upon the rail not far from them, Stickine swung black against the dimness at the wheel, and the _Champlain_ was sliding slowly north, a vague moving shadow across the great emptiness. It seemed to Appleby that he could feel the sea as he had never done on board the _Aldebaran_. It was so close beneath him, and life and zest of it throbbed through everything he touched. Niven, however, was looking at the sealer.

"You were aft when the skipper spoke to us, Donegal," he said. "What did he mean by saying he knew we'd told him the right tale?"

The man turned round and regarded him gravely. "Mr. Callaghan--an' Donegal to my friends--an' for the son of a ducal earl there's a lot of things you don't know," he said.

"Then," said Niven, "how am I going to learn them if I don't ask questions?"

"Now," said Donegal dryly, "ye are showing ye have some sinse, an' if it's searching for knowledge ye are, I will enlighten ye. The moral av ut is that while ye speak the truth, the little things ye do don't stand up and conthradict ye. Now, when ye knew where the topsail was that showed ye had been to sea, but they've rattlings on the shrouds av a square-rigger, an' it was easy to see that when ye could not find them it perplexed ye. Then when ye were sleeping Ned Jordan had Stickine bring some of the things ye tuk off into the cabin, an' there was names done nice in red on wan or two of them. 'It's all quite straight but the last ov it, an' there's lads who can't help talking big. Many's the time I've tried to teach my own ones better--wid a fence rail,' says he."

Donegal looked hard at Niven, but Appleby, who laughed softly, kicked his comrade's leg.

"We'll not worry about what he told your skipper any more--but it's true," he said.

Donegal said nothing further, but his eyes twinkled curiously, and there was silence for a space until a blink of light crept out of the dimness astern. The moon had risen, but was hidden by a cloud-bank in the south-east, and there was nothing to be seen but the light that grew steadily higher and brighter. Then a red one became visible, and while a vague black shape grew into form there was a blink of green. Stickine struck the deckhouse with his foot as he pulled over the wheel, and the _Champlain_ swung round a little, but still the lights seemed to follow her.

"A steamer," said Appleby. "What can they be after? Our canvas is plain enough against the sky."

Donegal grunted. "A top-heavy coal basket of a gunboat, sure!" he said. "How is it I know? Well, ye will have a better acquaintance by and by with the ships-of-war, an' any one could see the way she's rolling if he looked at her."

Appleby could see the higher light reeling to and fro, and a long smear of smoke that streaked the sea below. While he watched it the dim hull lengthened out, and he saw the white froth boil beneath the flung-up bows. They came down amidst a spray cloud, and the slanted masts swung wildly as the long roll of the Pacific lapped about the shadowy hull. The steamer was close upon the _Champlain's_ quarter now.

Suddenly there was a faint twinkle of brightness on board her, and then a great shaft of light smote a glittering track across the waters and rested on the schooner's stern. Jordan's lean figure was forced up against it, and Appleby could see the little dry smile in his face as he nodded to Stickine at the wheel. He pulled it over a spoke or two, and the _Champlain_ swerved a trifle, while Jordan's smile became a trifle grimmer, for the light also swinging still blazed upon her stern. Then it beat into the lad's eyes and dazzled them, swept forward and lighted all the foresail when it rested on the boats, flickered up and down the deck, forcing up every rope by its brilliancy, and vanished so suddenly that Niven afterwards said he could hear it snap. Next moment the steamer drew ahead, and the last he saw of her was her shadowy stern lifted high on the shoulder of a long smooth sea.

Jordan laughed a little as he paced up and down beside the wheel. "American," he said. "That fellow will know us if he falls in with us again."

*CHAPTER IX*

*A TRIAL OF SPEED*

It was early one morning rather more than three weeks after the lads had fallen in with the _Champlain_, and a little breeze had just sprung up with the sun when Appleby, who was scrubbing down decks just then, turned upon Niven who stood close by with a dripping bucket in his hand.

"I want the water here, and not all over me," he said, pointing with his bare toes to the sand he had sprinkled on the planking.

Niven grinned, and stooping, rolled his trousers to the knee, after which he commenced a little step-dance up and down the forehatch, and his laugh rang lightly when a drowsy growl rose from beneath.

"You want good thick clogs to do it well, but I fancy this will bring him up," he said. "Did yez sleep all day in the old country, Donegal?"

Now few men would have ventured to do what Niven was doing on board a merchant ship, where the time for sleep is scanty, but as the _Champlain_ carried twice as many men as were apparently needed, they had ample space for rest. Still, as he swung round grimacing with his back to the scuttle in the hatch, a coppery head rose up from it, and a long arm reached out. Then there was a chuckle from Stickine at the wheel, and Niven turned again just in time to receive the contents of the bucket full in his face. After that there was a scurry across the deck, and he swung himself up by the mast-hoops, while a rope-end flicked about the one from which he had just whipped his naked feet, and Donegal sat down on the hatch with a placid grin.

"Ye can stop up there and cool, me son, until Ned Jordan comes up," he said.

Niven sat down on the jaws of the foresail gaff, and wiped his dripping face. "Sure, 'tis an ungrateful beast, an' me just rousing him while the morning's fresh," he said. "Tom, if I had that bucket I could drop it nicely on his head."

Donegal gazed up at the lad reflectively. "'Tis what comes of fattening ye too quick," he said. "There was no thricks of that kind about ye on board the _Aldebaran_, and ye had a distressful hungry look when we got ye."

Niven could not find a neat rejoinder, and sat still with his arm round the throat halliards high up on the gaff, while the sun that rose with a smoky glare out of the eastern haze shone into his face. It was bronzed to the colour of copper, and it is possible that his friends would at first sight have found it difficult to recognize the lad they had last seen strutting in new uniform. He now wore jean trousers and a thick canvas jacket which Jordan had given him, and while both were considerably too large there were big smears of tar on them. His hands were as hard as a navvy's, and though he had not lost the love of frolic he had found no scope for on board the _Aldebaran_ there was a difference in his face.

The sea had set its stamp upon Niven, and the set of his lips had grown more resolute, while though they could still twinkle his eyes were steadier. Hardship and the need for quick decision and self-reliance had stiffened him, for Niven had been taught a good deal since he left Sandycombe School, and the knowledge that even a rich merchant's son was entitled to nothing he could not obtain by his native wit or the strength of his hand was perhaps the most useful of it all. Money, he had discovered, was not much use at sea, where nobody cared in the least who he was, and it was by the things he did he must stand or fall.

There was less change in Appleby, who had been early cast upon his own resources, but he, who had never been boisterous, was a trifle quieter, and had already added an inch or two to the breadth of his chest. His skin also resembled half-tanned leather, and he was picturesquely arrayed in garments of patched canvas somewhat too large for him.

In the meanwhile Niven glancing aft, and wondering by what means he could avoid Donegal, who appeared disposed to sit where he was all morning, saw the crimson glare of the sunrise beat athwart the sea. It streaked the long smooth undulations that rolled up after the _Champlain_ a coppery red, and the schooner swung over them lazily with half-filled mainsail banging. Under the sun there rolled a bank of smoky vapour, and just as Jordan came up from the little deckhouse, Niven saw something slide out of it. He was not altogether sorry, for although there was no abuse of the men on board the _Champlain_, he fancied the skipper's toleration had its limits, and when he looked down Donegal flicked a rope-end suggestively.

Next moment Jordan saw him. "Now, I figured you were washing decks. Anybody tell you to go up there?" he said.

Niven looked distinctly sheepish, and Donegal grinned. "Is ut telling that's any use to him, an' me inviting him to come down the last half-hour," he said. Just then the object that crept out of the haze grew clearer, and swinging himself up by the peak halliard, Niven stretched out an arm. "There's a schooner coming up astern, sir," he said. "Another just showing abeam!"

Donegal sprang into the shrouds, Jordan whipped up his glasses, and Niven, who saw they had forgotten him, slipped down. He had scarcely reached the deck when the skipper called out, and two or three men came scrambling out of the scuttle.

"Hand those topsails down, and get up the biggest yard-headers," he said.

There was no scurrying, but the men were very swift, and in a few minutes the little three-cornered topsails they had carried at night were down, and two big ones set. The _Champlain_ quickened her pace a trifle, but it was evident the other schooners were coming up with her. Jordan laid down his glasses.

"The _Belle_ and the _Argo_. They're bringing the breeze along with them," he said.