bit of poetry in their nature, andthey would any day far sooner see a couple of eider ducks roasted andflanked with apple sauce, than the same wildly beautiful birds happy andalive and afloat on the dark, heaving breast of the ocean. It's thetruth I'm telling ye, doctor. D'ye play at all? Have you any favouriteinstrument?"
"Weel, sir," the doctor replied, "I canna say that I'm vera much o' amusician, but I just can manage to toot a wee bit on the flute."
"And I've no doubt," said Rory, "that you `toot' well, too."
The conversation never slackened for a couple of hours, and so well didthe doctor feel, that of his own free will he volunteered joining themat dinner in the saloon. McBain was as much surprised as delighted whenhe came below to dine, and found that their new messmate, SandieMcFlail, had at long last put in an appearance at table.
The swell on the sea was much less next morning; the wind had slightlyincreased, and more sail had been spread, so that the ship wasmoderately steady. The rugged coast and strange, fantastic rocks of theoutlying islands of Iceland were in sight, and, half-buried in mistyclouds, the distant mountains could be dimly descried.
"Yonder," said the mate, advancing towards Captain McBain, glass inhand,--"yonder is a small boat, sir, with a bit of a sail on her; shehas just rounded the needle rocks, and seems standing in for themainland."
"Well," said the captain, "let us overhaul her, anyhow. There can be noharm in that, and it may secure us a fresh fish or two for dinner."
In less than an hour the _Arrandoon_ had come up with this strange sail,which at first sight had seemed a mere speck on the ocean, seen at onemoment and hidden the next behind some mountain roller. The surprise ofour heroes may be better imagined than described, to find afloat in thiscockle-shell of a boat, with an oar shipped as a mast and a tartan plaidas a main-sail, none other than the heroine of the wreckers' reef.Seeing that she was in the power of the big ship, she made no furtherattempt to get away, but, dropping her sail, she seized the oars,paddled quietly and coolly alongside, and next moment stood on thequarter-deck, with bowed head and modest mien, before Captain McBain.
The captain took her kindly by the hand, smiling as he said, "Do not beafraid, my girl; consider yourself among friends--among those, indeed,who would do anything in their power to serve you, even if they were notalready deeply in your debt, and deeply grateful."
"Ah!" she said, mournfully, "my warning came all too late to save you.But, praised be God! you are safe now, and not in the power of thoseterrible men, who would have spared not a single life of those the wavesdid not engulf."
"But tell us," continued McBain, "all about it--all about yourself.There is some strange mystery about the matter, which we would fain havesolved. But stay--not here, and not yet. You must be very tired andweary; you must first have rest and refreshment, after which you cantell us your tale. Stevenson, see the little boat hauled up; and,doctor, I place this young lady under your care; to-night I hope to landher safely in Reikjavik; meanwhile my cabin is at her disposal."
"Come, lassie," said the good surgeon, laconically, leading the way downthe companion.
Merely dropping a queenly curtsey to McBain and our young heroes, shefollowed the doctor without a word.
Peter the steward placed before her the most tempting viands in theship, yet she seemed to have but little appetite.
"I am tired," she said at length, "I fain would rest. Long weary weeksof sorrow have been mine. But they are past and gone at last."
Then she retired, this strange ocean waif and stray, and so the day woregradually to a close, and they saw no more of her until the sun, fierce,fiery, and red, began to disappear behind the distant snow-clad hills;then they found her once more in their midst.
She had gathered the folds of her plaid around her, her long yellow hairstill floated over her shoulders, and her dreamy blue eyes were shylyraised to McBain's face as she began to speak.
"I owe you some explanation," she said. "My strange conduct must appearalmost inexplicable to you. My appearance among you two nights ago wasintended to save you from the destruction that awaited you--from thedestruction that had been prepared for you by the Danish wreckers."
"Sir," she continued, after a pause, "I am myself a Dane. My father wasparish minister in the little village of Elmdene. Alas! I fear he isnow no more. Afflictions gathered and thickened around us in our oncehappy little home, and the only way we could see out of them was toleave our native land and cross the ocean. In America we have manyfriends who had kindly offered us an asylum, until happier days shouldcome again. Our vessel was a brig, our crew all told only twenty hands,and we, my brother, father, and myself--for mother has long since goneup beyond--were the only passengers.
"All went well until we were off the northern Shetlands, when at thedark, starry hour of midnight our ship was boarded and carried bypirates. Every one in the ship was put to the sword, saving my fatherand myself. My poor dear brave brother was slain before my eyes, but hedied as the Danes die--with his face to the foe. My father was promisedhis life if he would perform the ceremony of marriage between myself andthe pirate captain, who is a Russian, a daring, fearless fellow, but astrange compound of superstition and vice--a man who will go to prayersbefore scuttling a ship! The object of this pirate was to seize yourvessel; he would have met and fought you at sea, but the easier plan forhim was to try to wreck you. Fortune seemed to favour this bold designof his. The lights placed on shore, to represent a vessel of largesize, were part and parcel of his vile scheme. But the darkness of thenight enabled me to escape and come towards you. Then I feared toreturn; but, alas! alas! I now tremble lest my dear father has had topay the penalty of my rashness with his life."
[The story of the pirate is founded on fact.]
"But the ship--this pirate?" said McBain. "We sailed around the islandnext day but saw no signs of him?"
"Then," said the girl, "he must have escaped in the darkness,immediately after discovering the entire failure of his scheme."
"And whither were you bound for when we overtook you, my poor girl?"asked McBain.
"At Reikjavik," she replied, "I have an uncle, a minister. He it waswho taught me all I know, while he was still at home in Elmdene--taughtme among other things the beautiful language of your country, which Ispeak, but speak so indifferently."
"Can this be," said McBain, "the self-same pirate that attacked the_Snowbird_?"
"The very same thought," answered Ralph, "was passing through my ownmind."
"And yet how strange that a pirate should, cruise in these far northernseas?"
"She has less chance of being caught, at all events," Allan said.
"Ha?" exclaimed McBain, with a kind of grim, exultant laugh, "if shecomes across the _Arrandoon_, that chance will indeed be a small one.She'll find us a different kind of a craft from the _Snowbird_."
The vessel was now heading directly for the south-east coast of Iceland.Somewhere in there, though at present hidden by points of land androcky islets, lay the capital of Iceland, which they hoped to reach eremidnight.
A more lovely land and seascape than that which was now stretched outbefore them, it would indeed be difficult to conceive. The sun had gonedown behind the western end of a long line of snow-clad mountains,serrated, jagged, and peaked, but their tops were all rose-tipped withhis parting beams. Above them the sky was clear, with just one speck ofcrimson cloud; the lower land between was bathed in a purple mist,through which the ice-bound rocks could dimly be discerned, while themantle of night had already been spread over the ocean.
It was "nightfall on the sea."
CHAPTER EIGHT.
A GALE FROM THE MOUNTAINS--DAYBREAK IN ICELAND--THE GREAT BALLOONASCENT--RORY'S YARN--THE SNOW-CLOUD--THE PIRATE IS SEEN.
A whole week has elapsed since the events transpired which I haverelated in last chapter,--a week most interestingly if not always quitepleasantly spent. The _Arrandoon_ is lying before the quaint,fantastical old town of Reikjavik, surrounded
almost in every directionby mountains bold and wild, the peaked summits and even the sides ofwhich are now covered with ice and snow. For spring has not yet arrivedto unrivet stern winter's chains, to swell the rivers into roaringtorrents, and finally to carpet the earth with beauty. The streams arestill frozen, the bay in which the good ship lies at her anchors twain,is filled with broken pancake-ice, which makes communication with theshore by means of boat a matter of no little difficulty, for oars haveto be had inboard or used as pressing poles, and boat-hooks are inconstant requisition.
Winter it is, and the country all around might be called dreary, were itnot for the ever-varying shades of colour that, as the sun shines out,or anon hides his head