Crusoes of the Frozen North/chapter2

CHAPTER II

The merry month of May had hardly begun when the brave Valhalla steamed away on her perilous cruise to the far and icy north.

Frank, with his two little cousins, had begged leave to go to Hull in order to see the very, very last of the beautiful ship and that best of uncles, Captain Staysail. Leave had been given by their parents, because "Wherever Frank is," said Mr. Dunlop, "the children are sure to be safe."

There had been a good deal of stir and bustle on the very last evening, and many visitors had been to the Valhalla, for somehow word had gone out that Professor Peterkin, the great Swedish traveller, was off to find the North Pole!

And all believed that he would find it. Some of the sailors even went so far as to say that he would bring it back with him rigged up as a mast of his ship!

But by the time eight bells had rung out all was quiet. The hands had turned in, and only Tom and two men were left on watch.

"Go forward," said Tom, "and have a cup of coffee and a smoke, and I'll see to the safety of the ship here at the gangway."

The men took the young officer at his word, and it was not very long ere their smoke was finished, and they, too, were fast asleep. Had any other eyes than Tom's been watching the shore, about half an hour afterwards, they must have noticed that something very strange was taking place.

Dark figures could be seen drawing near with stealthy footsteps to the farther end of the gangway. Then they stopped as if in fear and dread. But Tom whistled a long, low whistle, and three figures, muffled in oil-skins, stole along the gangway and stepped silently on deck.

Then Tom sprang a small bull's-eye lantern, and let its light shine right in front of him, so that no one meeting him could have told who or what was stealing up behind. In the same quiet way he led the little party down a ladder to the deck below, and then beneath hammocks filled with sleeping sailors, and along a passage, until he came to a door, which he carefully unlocked, and soon afterwards locked again.



By midnight next night the Valhalla was far out at sea, bearing to the north, for Captain Staysail did not mean to touch at any of the English or Scotch ports on this voyage.

The weather at first was very beautiful, and so it remained, with a calm sea and hardly a breath of wind, until nearly sunset of the second day. Then clouds began to bank up, dark and threatening, and the glass—so Webb, the first mate, reported to the captain—was going tumbling down.

"We are going to have a blow, sir," he said, "and it's coming up sharp behind us. I reckon, sir, we'll have a ten-knotter afore the middle watch is called!"

"Well, then, have the fires banked, Mr. Webb, as soon as the wind is strong enough to get way on her. I wouldn't set too much sail, and if it does come a gale, I'd ease her right away. You know what she can do, Mate."

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Well, I think that's all."

But the mate didn't move.

"Anything else, Mr. Webb?"

"There is something else, sir," said the mate rather sheepishly.

"Well, out with it. Why, you look as if you'd seen a ghost!"

"Well, sir, there is a ghost, or demon, or something aboard of this very ship, and some of the crew are in a state next door to mutiny about it."

"What on earth do you mean, Mr. Webb?"

The tall, handsome, fair-haired Webb leaned over the table and spoke to Staysail almost in a whisper.

"It's the little professor they all blame, sir; and there are four of them who swear the ship is haunted—that he keeps evil spirits under lock and key for'ard—"

"But—but—Mr. Webb—Evil spirits under lock and key! Do you mean bad rum? And who is he?"

"Hush, sir! don't talk so loud. He's walking the deck now. It's the professor I mean, sir. As to the evil spirits, I've heard them myself—mutter, mutter, squeak, squeak, squeak! Ugh! it is awful, sir—awful!"

And the mate shuddered as he spoke.

Now, Staysail was always a good laugher, but at this tale he fairly yelled with laughter until everything jingled in the cabin, and the tears ran down his cheeks.

The mate never moved a muscle.

"That awful fore-cabin, sir!" he said. "It's in there, and Broomberg, the Finlander, declares that if you don't land him and his mates at Bergen they'll seize the ship and sail for Aberdeen."

"But why on earth don't you open the fore-cabin?"

"Oh, that's where it is, sir! The key is lost, or else the professor has it."

"Hark!"

A squall at that moment struck the ship and heeled her over. It blew with tremendous force for a time, and at last settled down to a steady gale. But in less than an hour the captain's orders were carried out, and the good ship Valhalla was speeding before the wind at a good rate with very little sail on her.

The storm increased towards midnight, and at that dark hour the Valhalla had to lie to under almost bare poles. So busy had all hands been kept that there was very little time to think of ghosts or evil spirits, and now that the crew had a chance of turning in, it is needless to say that sleep was the first thing to be considered.

But fresh trouble came with the new day. The wind had gone down, and the sea as well, and the Valhalla was now bowling along on a pretty even keel, for the breeze was well astern.

Webb, the mate, and Tom both slept in bunks in the same cabin. Just as the steward was laying breakfast, Webb popped his head out from his cabin curtains.

"Hillo, steward!"

"Good-morning, sah!" said Jake Brown, who, strange as it may seem, was a tall and important-looking black man, with hair as white as snow.

"Have you seen Master Tom? He hasn't been here all night. I slept too sound to take much notice."

"Sakes alive, no!" cried burly Jake. "I run and search de ship plenty quick." And away he went.

Webb was dressed and leaving his cabin when Jake returned. But neither high nor low, fore nor aft, could Tom be found, nor had he been seen since the main-topsail had carried away just before midnight.

The captain was now roused and the terrible news reported.

"Poor Tom! poor Tom! Washed overboard without a doubt!" he said.

Tom had been a great favourite on board, and the news caused a general gloom all over the ship.

But Broomberg and his mates received the news in another way.

"It is von unlucky ship," cried the former, "and did not those below hear the shrieking of the ghosts when the waves and wind were highest? Come we to the captain at once, men. I will not sail in a haunted ship. No, no."

Some minutes before eight bells rang out in the morning air, the captain on the quarter-deck, with Mr. Webb and the professor, were engaged in angry talk with Broomberg and his fellows.

"Return to your duty, men," the captain said. "I will make enquiries into the matter. As for you, Broomberg, hand over that knife you are fingering, and consider yourself under arrest."

"I will not," shouted the fellow. "See!"

He made a wild rush aft, holding the glittering blade high in air, and seized the professor by the neck.

But help from an unexpected quarter was at hand, and next moment Broomberg was sprawling on his back with Briton's great paws on his chest.

Mutiny and ghosts and storm were at once forgotten. The men cheered wildly, Broomberg's knife was snatched from his hand, and he himself bound hand and foot, while everybody crowded round to shake hands with the little professor, or to pat the noble dog who had saved his life.

But suddenly joy was changed to terror, for shriek after shriek could be heard forward, and in a few seconds' time the cook rushed helter-skelter up on deck, almost pale with fright, followed by the men of the watch below.

"The ghosts!" somebody shouted.

The captain stood as if stupefied, the little professor's eyes were as big as watch-glasses, and the mate had to catch hold of a back-stay to prevent himself from falling.

The whole crew now took to the rigging, and the only marvel is that some of them did not slip overboard and make food for the sharks.

"Look, look!—oh, look, sir!" shouted the mate with a cry like one in a nightmare; and the next moment he fainted and fell on the top of Broomberg the mutineer.