whateverthey're likely to lay their dirty hands on, so I reckon I'll just burymy valuables."
A very practical individual was Seth, and when once he made up his mindto do a thing he just did it straight away; so, as soon as they hadeaten their last breakfast at his wigwam, assisted by one or two of theyachtsmen, the burial of the valuables commenced. A large hole was dugnot far from the door of the hut, and this was carefully lined with hay,and on the hay were piled Seth's household goods, in the shape of potsand pans, and plates and dishes, and every variety of cooking andkitchen utensil, with the greater portion of the old man's armoury_plus_ his wardrobe. Not the best portion of the latter, however; no,only some of his skin suits, for shortly before these were deposited intheir temporary grave, Seth had retired for a space to the privacy ofhis garret.
"I reckon," he said to himself, with a smile, as he began to undress,"that old Seth'll kinder astonish the weak nerves of these Englishsailors." Don't suppose they'd guess the old trapper was in possessionof anything decent to put on. He reckoned upon astonishing ourtravellers, and he certainly was not far out of his reckoning, for whenhe again appeared in their midst, arrayed in a long blue coat with brassbuttons, shoes with silver buckles, silk stockings, and knee-breeches,white collar up to his eyes, and crowned with a beaver hat of immenselongitude, and with a face as serious and long as your own, reader, whenyou look into the bowl of a silver spoon, Rory, whose risibility wasnever under the most perfect control, simply rolled on the grass andscreamed. Allan was the next to go off, and then Ralph exploded, andfinally McBain. Even Oscar joined the chorus in a round of bow-bows,and the only two of the whole party that contained themselves were Sethand his mastiff.
"Guess," said Seth, quietly recommencing the burial of his valuables,"you're kinder 'stonished to find Seth can be civilised when he likes."
Well, as soon as more hay had been placed in the grave, and the earthpacked down over all.
"P'r'aps," said Seth, "you gentlemen think the funeral's over now."
"It's finished now, isn't it?" asked McBain.
"Nary a bit of it," said the old man; "I know the Yacks too well toleave the grave like that. They'd spot it at once, and have 'em upbefore you'd say bullet."
The trapper's wisdom was well shown in his next move. This was to heapa quantity of brushwood and logs on the top of all, and set fire tothem.
He watched the progress of the fire until it was well alight, and thebiggest logs began to crackle.
That same forenoon the first and second mates of the _Snowbird_ wereleaning over the bulwarks, looking at the shore, when the sound of oarsfell upon their ears, and next minute the yacht's cutter hove in sightround the point.
"Why," said Stevenson, "who on earth have they got on board?"
"Old John Brown, I should think," said the second mate.
"Well," continued Stevenson, "I do wonder how many queer old customersthe captain will pick up before the end of the cruise. Ap ain't achicken, and Magnus isn't a youth, but this new old one beats all.Shouldn't wonder if it ain't Methuselah himself. Anyhow, Mitchell, ifwe do happen to want to rig a jury mast one of these days, thisvenerable old bit o' timber in the long hat will be just the thing."
When the anchor was up once more, sail set, and the _Snowbird_ againholding on her voyage, bowling along under a ten-knot breeze, Stevensonapproached to where Seth stood against the capstan.
"I say," says Stevenson.
"Sir to you," says Seth.
"You're a friend o' the captain's, ain't you?"
"That's so," from Seth.
"Well, that makes you a friend of mine," from Stevenson. "Shake hands."
Seth did shake hands, and Stevenson winced as he pulled his hand away.
"What an iron-fisted old sinner you are!"
"I reckon," said Seth, quietly, "I can hold pretty tight for an old'un."
"Now," continued Stevenson, "let me give you a piece of advice."
"Spit it out," said Seth.
"Well then, it is this: get rid of these antediluvian togs o' yours. Iwon't say you look a guy, but the suit ain't shipshape, I assure you,and it makes you look--well, just a little remarkable; and mind you, ifit comes on to blow only just a little bit, that venerable tile o'yours'll go overboard--sharp, and your wig too, if you wear one."
"Look here, young man," said Seth, "you talk pretty straight, you do;but as far as the wig is concerned, I wear my own hair as yet; asregards the togs, as you call 'em, I hain't got nothing else to put onbut skins. Skins wouldn't suit a civilised ship. So unless you can fixme up decent and different, don't talk, that's all."
"That's fair, that's right, Methus--I mean, Mr Seth."
"Bother your misters," said the old trapper; "I'm Seth, simply Seth."
"Well, Seth," said Stevenson, "see here, I can fix you in a brace ofshakes; you ain't much more'n a yard taller than me. Come below,Methus--ahem! Seth. Mind your hat. It would be a pity to crush that,you know."
When Seth appeared on deck again, rigged out in a suit of Stevenson's,albeit his legs stuck rather far through their covering, and his longbony wrists were nicely displayed, it must be confessed that he _did_look a little less remarkable.
Where was Seth to sleep at night? Was he to be a cabin passenger? Nay,Seth himself decided the matter by simply taking the big mastiff in hisarms, and lying down on a skin in front of the galley-fire.
As for the dog himself, he began to improve in condition from the veryday he came on board, and before he was a week at sea he was positivelygetting fat. But the Yankee trapper remained as lanky as ever. Do notthink, however, that honest Seth was of no service on board; old as hewas, he proved a very useful fellow. He assisted the cook, the cooper,and the sailmaker all in turns; and when he was not assisting them hewas squatting on deck, making and mending fishing-tackle, and buskingfishhooks with feathers, to make them represent flies.
The _Snowbird_ had now got so far into the northern and western baysthat, summer although it was, the weather was far from warm, but itcontinued fine. Immense snow-clad pieces of ice were to be seen daily,sometimes even hourly, and the yacht often sailed so closely to themthat the very blood and marrow of the onlookers felt as if suddenlyfrozen into ice itself.
One morning a berg was reached larger than any they had yet seen, andthe vessel had to alter her course considerably in order to avoid it.To all appearance it was an island in the midst of the dark sea, andquite an hour elapsed ere it was rounded, and the ship could again bekept away on the right tack. Hardly had she been put so, when,--
"A sail!" was the shout from the crow's-nest--"a sail on the weatherbow."
Captain McBain went aloft himself to have a look at her, the yacht inthe meantime being kept close to the wind. When he came down Rory andAllan went eagerly to meet him.
"What is she?" said the former. "Our old friend the pirate?"
"Nay," said McBain, "not this time; it's a whaler, right enough; all herboats are hanging handy, and she is evidently on the outlook forblubber. Peter!" he cried, speaking down the main hatch, "have lunchready in a couple of hours. I think," he continued, addressing ourheroes, "we'll board her. Would any of you like to go?"
Of course they would, every one of the three of them.
While they were discussing luncheon Stevenson came below.
"We're nearly close abreast of her," he said, "and I've been signalling.She's an English barque--the _Trefoil_, from Hull."
"Been whaling, I suppose?" said McBain.
"Yes, sir," said Stevenson; "she's been wintered, and is now engaged atthe summer fishing. She's dodging now; and I've had the foreyard hauledaback."
"Thank you, Mr Stevenson. Call away the gig if the men have dined.Let them dress in their smartest. We'll be up in a few minutes."
It was a lovely day; a gentle swell was on, broken into myriads ofrippling wavelets by a southern wind, and on it the tall-masted barquerocked gently to and fro. The gig was soon lowered and manned, and,with Rory as coxswain, they
left the _Snowbird's_ side. How pretty shelooked! This thought must have been in every one's mind as they gazedon her beautiful lines, and thence at the large but cumbersome vesselthey were rapidly approaching. Hard weather and hard usage she musthave experienced since leaving England. The paint was planed andploughed off her bows and sides in all directions, and the woodworkitself deeply furrowed and indented.
"It is evident enough she has been in the nips," said