since you have beengazing on de ship, de current have change, and we once more get nearerhome."
An hour went slowly by. Both the doctor and Rory were gazing at the_far-off_ mountain, Hekla, that lay to the south and east, thoughdistant many miles. The vast hill looked a king among the othermountains; a king, but a dead king, being still and quiet in thesunshine, enrobed in a shroud of snow.
Sandy was doubly engaged--he was talking musingly, and aloud; but at thesame time he was doing ample justice to the venison pie that lay soconfidingly on his knee, for Sandy was a bit of a philosopher in his ownquiet way.
"Mount Hekla," he was saying; "is it any wonder that these Norsemen,these superstitious sons of the ancient Vikings, look upon it as theentrance-gate to the terrible abode of fire and brimstone, gloom andwoe, where are confined the souls of the unhappy dead? Hekla, round thysnow-capped summit the thunders never cease to roll--"
"Hark," said Rory, holding up his hand; "talk about thunder, list tothat."
Both leant over the car and looked earthwards. What could it mean, thatlow, deep, long-continued thunderpeal? Was a storm raging beneath them?Yes, but not of the kind they at first imagined. For see, from whereyonder hill starts abruptly from the glen, rise immense clouds ofsilvery white, and roll slowly adown the valley. The balloon hangssuspended right above the great _geyser_, which is now in full eruption.
"It is as I thought," said De Vere; "let us descend a little way;" andhe opened the valve as he spoke.
The balloon made a downward rush as he did so, as if she meant to plungeherself and all her occupants into the very midst of the boilingcauldron. The steam from the geyser had almost reached their feet; thecar thrilled beneath them, while the never-ceasing thunder pealed louderand louder.
"My conscience!" roared honest Sandy, losing all control over himself;"we'll be boiled alive like so many partans!"
[Partans: Scottish, crabs.]
De Vere coolly threw overboard a bag or two of sand, and the balloonmounted again like a skylark. And not too soon either, for, awful, torelate, in his sudden terror Sandy had made a grab at the valve-rope, asif to check her downward speed. Had not Rory speedily pulled him back,the consequences would have been too dreadful to think of.
De Vere only laughed; but he held up one finger by way of admonishingthe doctor as he said, "Neever catch hold of de reins ven anoder man isdriving."
"But," said Rory, "didn't you go a trifle too near that time, Mister deVere?"
"A leetle," said the Frenchman, coolly. "It was noding."
"Ach! sure no," says Rory; "it was nothing at all; and yet, Mister deVere, it isn't the pleasantest thing in the world to imagine yourselfbeing played at pitch and toss with on the top of a mighty geyser, forall the world like a nut-gall on the top of a twopenny fountain!"
Sandy resumed the dissection of his venison pie. He would have a longentry for his diary to-night, he thought.
Luck does not always attend the aeronaut, albeit fortune favours thebrave, and the current of air that was carrying the balloonists somerrily back to Reikjavik, ceased entirely when they were still withinten miles of that quaint wee place. It was determined, therefore, tomake a descent. Happily, they were over a glen. Close by the sea andaround the bay were many small farms, and so adroitly did De Vere manageto attach an anchor to the roof of an old barn, that descent was easy inthe extreme.
Perhaps the happiest man in the universe at the moment Sandy McFlail'sfeet touched mother earth again was Sandy himself. "Man!" he cried toRory, rubbing his hands and laughing with glee, "I thought gettin' outmeant a broken leg at the vera least, and I haven't even bled my nose."
There was some commotion, I can tell you, among the feathered inmates ofthe barnyard when the balloonists popped down among them; as for thefarm folks, they had shut themselves up in the dwelling-house. Thegeese were particularly noisy. Geese, reader, always remind me of thosepeople we call sceptics: they are sure to gabble their loudest at thingsthey can't understand.
But convinced at last that the aeronauts were neither evil spirits norinhabitants of the moon, the good farmer made them heartily welcome athis fireside, and assisted them to pack, so that, by the aid of men andponies, they found themselves late that evening safely on board the_Arrandoon_; and right glad were their comrades to see them again, youmay be sure, and to listen to a narration by Rory of all theiradventures, interlarded by Sandy's queer, dry remarks, which only servedto render it all the more funny.
But before they sat down to the ample supper that Peter had prepared forthem, Rory reported to the captain his great discovery.
McBain's eyes sparkled like live coals as he heard of it, but he saidlittle. He sent quietly for the engineer and the mate. "How soon," heasked the former, "can you get up steam?"
"In an hour, sir--easy."
"That will do," said the captain. "Mr Stevenson, when will the moonrise?"
"She is rising now, sir."
"All right, Mr Stevenson. Have all ready to weigh anchor in two hours'time."
"Ay, ay, sir!"
The engineer still lingered. "I _could_ get up steam in twentyminutes," he said; "those American hams, sir--"
"Oh, bother the hams?" said the captain, laughing. "No, no; we may beglad of those yet when frozen in at the Pole. Bear-and-ham pie,engineer; how will that eat, eh?" and he bowed him kindly out.
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By two bells in the middle watch the good ship _Arrandoon_ was off theneedle rocks of the Portland Huck. They stood up out of the water liketall sheeted ghosts, with the moonlight and starlight shimmering fromtheir shoulders. The sea was calm, with only a gentle heave on it; andthere were but a few snowy clouds in the sky skirting the southernhorizon, so the vessel ploughed along as beautifully as any sailor couldwish, with a steady, contented throb of engine and gride of screw,leaving in her wake a long silvery line for the moonbeams to dance in.Save the noise of the ship's working there was not another sound to beheard, only occasionally a gull would float past overhead emitting astrange and mournful cry. What makes the sea-birds, I have wondered,sometimes leave the rocks at the midnight hour, and go skimming alonethrough the darkling air, emitting that weird and plaintive wail oftheirs? It is a wail that goes directly to one's heart, and you cannothelp thinking they must be bereaved ones mourning for their dead.
Our heroes walked long on deck that night, talking quietly, as becamethe hour, of the prospects of their having a brush with the pirate. Butthey got weary at last, and turned in. Next morning they found thedecks wet and slippery, more clouds in the sky, a fair beam windblowing, and a trifle of canvas displayed.
After breakfast McBain called all hands aft. In calm, dispassionatelanguage he told them the story of the poor girl who had risked her lifeon their account, of her murdered brother and captive father, and of thepirate he was about to try to find and capture. Then he paused; and ashe did so every one of the crew turned eyes on Ted Wilson, who strodeforward.
"Captain," said Ted, firmly, "we didn't sign articles to fight, did we,mates?"
"No," from all hands.
"_But_," continued Ted, "for such a captain as you be, and in such acause, we _will_ fight, every man Jack of us, as long as the saucy_Arrandoon_ has a timber above the water. Am I right, mates?"
A ringing cheer was all the reply, and Ted retired.
Now, reader, were I a landsman novelist I would very likely here make mycaptain give the orders to "splice the main-brace," but I'm a sailor,and I tell you this, boys, that British seamen never yet needed Dutchcourage to make them do their duty.
Captain McBain only waved a hand and said, "Pipe down."
An hour afterwards the crow's-nest was rigged and hoisted at themain-truck, and either the mate or the captain was in it off and on thewhole day. But no pirate appeared that day nor the next. In theevening, however, some fishermen boarded the _Arrandoon_, and reportedhaving seen a large barque, answering to the descript
ion of thesuspected craft, that same morning lying at anchor off Suddersoe, withboats passing to and fro 'twixt ship and shore.
"It is my precious opinion, captain," said old Magnus Bolt, "that thiscraft does a bit o' smuggling 'tween here and Shetland."
"And it is my precious opinion, my dear Magnus," said McBain, "that therascal doesn't care what he does so long as he lands the cash."
The _Arrandoon_ was now kept away for the island named by the honestfishermen. Not straight, however; McBain gave it a wide berth, andpassed it far to the west, and held on his course until many miles tothe southward. In the morning it was "bout ship" and stand away northand by east again.