FaroeIsles, lay like a beautifully portrayed map beneath their feet. Thegrandeur of the scene kept them silent for long minutes; it impressedthem, it awed them. It did more than even this, for it caused them tofeel their own littleness, and the might of the Majesty that made theworld.
De Vere himself seldom vouchsafed a single glance landwards; he seemedto busy himself wholly and solely with the many strange instruments withwhich he was surrounded. He was hardly a moment idle. The intensecold, that soon began to benumb the senses of Sandie, seemed to have nodeterrent effect on his efforts.
"I must confess I do fell sleepy," said the worthy medico, "and I meantto assist you, Mr De Vere."
"Here," cried the scientist, pouring something out of a phial, andhanding it to him, "drink that quick."
"I feel double the individual," cried Sandie, brightly, as soon as hehad swallowed the draught.
"Come," said Rory, "come, monsieur, _I_ want to feel double theindividual, too."
"No, no, sir," said De Vere, smiling, "an Irishman no want etherism; youare already--pardon me--too ethereal."
Sandie was gazing skywards.
"It is the moon,"--he was saying--"I ken her horn, She's blinkin' in the lift sae hie; She smiles, the jade! to wile us hame, But, 'deed, I doubt, she'll wait a wee."
"Happy thought!" cried Rory; "let us go to the moon."
"No," laughed the doctor; "nobody ever got that length yet."
"Oh, you forget, Mr Surgeon," said Rory,--"you forget entirely allabout Danny O'Rourke."
"Tell us, then, Rory."
"Troth, then," began Rory, in his richest brogue, "it was just like thissame. Danny was a dacint boy enough, who lived entoirely alone withBiddy his wife, and the pig, close to a big bog in old Oireland.Sitting on a stone in the midst of this bog was Danny, one foinesummer's evening, when who should fly down but an aigle. `Foinenoight,' says the aigle. `The same to you,' says Danny, `and many ofthem.' `But,' says the aigle, `don't you see that it is sinking youare?' `Och! sure,' cries Danny, `and so it is. I'll be swallowed up inthe bog, and poor Biddy and the pig will nivir set eyes on me again.Och! och! what'll I do?' `Git on to me back, troth,' says the aigle,`and I'll fly you sthraight to your Biddy's door.' `And the blessingsav the O'Rourkes be wid ye thin,' says Danny, putting his arms round theaigle's neck, `for you are the sinsible bird, and whatever I'd have donewidout ye, ne'er a bit o' me knows. But isn't it high enough you arenow, aroon? Yonder is my cottage just down there.' For," continuedRory, "you must know that by this time the aigle had mounted fully amile high with poor Danny. `Be quiet wid ye,' says the aigle, `or I'llshake ye off me back entoirely. Don't ye remember robbing my nest lastyear? _I_ do. And it's niver a cottage you'll ever see again, norBiddy, nor the pig either. It's right up to the moon I'm flying widye.' `What!' cries Danny, `to that bit av a thing like a raping-hook?Och! and och! what'll become av me at all at all?' But the moon gotbigger the nearer they came to it, and they found it a dacint sizeenough when they got there entirely. `Catch a howld av the end av theraping-hook,' says the aigle, `or by this and by that I'll shake ye offme shoulder.' And so poor Danny had no ho' but just to do as he wastold, and away flew the aigle and left him. While he was wondering whathe should do now, a stern voice behind him says, `Let go--let go the endof the raping-hook, and be off wid ye back to your own counthry.' `It'shardly civil av you,' says Danny, `to ask me sich a thing. Sure it isfew ever come to call on you anyhow.' `Let go,' thundered the man o'the moon; and he gave Danny just one kick, and off went the poor boyflying into the air. `It's killed I'll be,' says he to himself, `killedentoirely wid the fall, and what'll become o' me wife Biddy and the pigis more'n I can tell.' But he fell, and he fell, and he fell, and henever seemed to stop falling, till plump he alights right in the middleo' the sea, and there he lay on the broad back av him, till a big lumpav a whale came and splashed him all over wid his tail. But sure enoughthe sea was only his bed, and the big whale turned out to be Biddyherself, with the watering-pot, telling him to get up, for a lazy ouldboy, and feed the pig, and troth it was nothing but a dream after all.
"But where in the name of wonder are we now?" he continued, gazingaround.
It was a very natural question. It had got suddenly dark. They wereenveloped in a snow-cloud. The brave balloon seemed to struggle throughit.
Ballast was thrown over, and up and out into the sunshine she roseagain, but what a change had come over her appearance--every rope andlength of her and the car itself and our bold aeronauts were coveredwhite with virgin snow.
"Monsieurs," said De Vere, "this is more than I bargained for. We mustdescend. You see she has lost all life. De lofely soul dat was in deballoon seems to have gone. We will descend."
Indeed the huge balloon was already moving slowly earthwards, and in aminute more they were again passing through the snow-cloud. Once clearof this a breeze sprang up, or, to speak more correctly, they entered acurrent of air, that carried them directly inland for many miles. Tiredof this direction, the valve was opened, out roared the gas, and thedescent became more rapid, until the wind ceased to blow--they werebeneath the adverse current. More ballast was thrown out, and her "way"was stopped.
But see, what aileth our hero, boy Rory? For some minutes he has beengazing southwards over the sea, so intensely indeed that his looksalmost frighten the honest doctor.
"The glass, the glass," he hisses, holding round his hand, but nottaking his glance for a moment off the southern horizon.
The glass is handed to him, he adjusts it to his eye, and takes onelong, fixed look; and when he turns once more towards the doctor hisface is radiant with joy and excitement.
"It is she," he cried, "it is _she_, it is she!"
The doctor really looked scared.
"Man!" he said, "are ye takin' leave o' your wuts? There, tak' a holdo' my hand and dinna try to frighten folk. There's never a `she' nearye."
"It is _she_, I tell you," cried Rory again; "take the glass and look inunder the land yonder, and heading for Stromsoe. It is the pirateherself,--the pirate we fought in the _Snowbird_. Hurrah! hurrah!"
CHAPTER NINE.
MOUNT HEKLA--THE GREAT GEYSER--A NARROW ESCAPE--THE SEARCH FOR THEPIRATE--MCBAIN'S LITTLE "RUSE DE GUERRE"--THE BATTLE BEGUN.
"That puts quite another complexion on the matter," said Dr SandyMcFlail, with a sigh of relief, when Rory explained to him that he hadspied the pirate, "quite another complexion, though, for the time bein'ye glowered sae like a warlock that I did think ye had lost your reason;so give me the glass, and I'll e'en take a look at her mysel'.
"Eh! sirs," he continued, with the telescope at his eye, "but she is abig ship, and a bonnie ship. But, Rory boy, just catch a hold o' mycoat-tails, and I'll feel more secure like. I wouldn't wish to go heelso'er head out o' the car. A fine big ship indeed--square-rigged forwardand schooner-rigged aft; a vera judeecious arrangement."
"Now," cried Rory, "the sooner we are landed on old mother earth thebetter. Bend on to the valve halyards, De Vere. Down with her."
"Sirs! sirs!" cried the doctor, in great alarm; "pray don't be rash. Bejudeecious, gentlemen, be judeecious."
De Vere looked from one to the other, then laughed aloud. He wasamused at the impetuosity of the Irishman and at the canniness of theScot.
A very pleasant little man was this De Vere to look at, black as to hairand moustache, dark as to eyes; thoughtful-looking as a rule were theseeyes, yet oft lit up with fun. He never spoke much, perhaps hecogitated the more; he seldom made a joke himself, but he had a highappreciation of humour in others. Taking him all and all he gave youthe impression of one who would be little likely to lose his presence ofmind in a time of danger.
"Gentlemen," he said, quietly, "you will leave the descent in my hands,if you please. We are now, by my calculation, some ninety miles fromthe city of Reikjavik. You see beneat' you wild mountains, ice-boundplains, frozen lakes, rivers and waterfalls, deep ravines and gorges,but no sign of smoke, no li
fe. Shall I make my descent here? Shall Ipull vat Monsieur Rory call de valve halyard? Shall I land in deregions of desolation?"
"Dinna think o't," cried Sandy. "Never mind Rory; he is only a laddie."
"It's yourself that's complimentary," quoth Rory.
"Ah! ver' well," said De Vere; "I will go on, for