Steve Young Part 18

"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 sc.r.a.ps 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 sc.r.a.p had been s.n.a.t.c.hed from the crystal clear water, and then looked round as the Norseman flung in some more fragments which he had sc.r.a.ped from the ma.s.sive 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 n.o.ble head when the skin's dressed, and a pair of gla.s.s 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 Hands...o...b.. would think, as he got up on the bowsprit just where it pa.s.sed 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 Hands...o...b.. 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 fis.h.i.+ng-rod and line."

"Nonsense!" said the lad shortly; "but I say, Mr Hands...o...b.., 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.