Steve Young Part 17

"Yes, my lad; but it is not going to set. In another quarter of an hour it will be at its lowest point, and then begin to rise higher and travel apparently eastward to the south. You wanted to see the midnight sun.

There it is; but I hope you'll see it to greater perfection when we get farther north."

"Yes; but won't it set at all?" cried Steve.

"No; we shall have what will seem like endless day for the rest of the summer."

"And shan't want lamps?"

"No, not for a long time to come."

"But, then, shan't we want to go to bed and sleep?"

"Oh yes," said the doctor, laughing; "and I shall be very glad to get my dinner--supper, I mean--and then go. So let's get back on board."

But Steve did not move for a minute or two. He stood staring at the sun, beneath which the ice was glittering, while the snow upon the mountains flashed and looked more beautiful than ever. At last he shouldered his gun.

"I'm very stupid, I suppose," he said at last, as he looked from one to the other. "I learned all about it at school, and I suppose I knew all this; but now I'm right amongst it everything seems puzzling. I can't understand how this can be night; but it will all come right by-and-by."

"Of course," said the captain, smiling; "but it looks as if the dog understands what puzzles you."

Steve looked round.

"Why, he's asleep."

"Yes; and look about you. Where are the birds? I don't see one on the wing."

"There are thousands up yonder on the ledges," said Steve, pointing to the lines of black-backed and white-breasted puffins and grey gulls.

"Yes, my lad; but they're all roosting," said the captain. "All ready, my lads? Now, then, for the boat."

"Here, Skeny, wake up, old chap!" cried Steve, forcing a laugh. "Sorry to disturb you in the middle of the night, but you'll be able to see."

The dog did not stir till his master bent down and touched him, when he started into wakefulness, got up stiffly, shook himself and made his ears rattle, and then yawned in a very human way.

"Come along, then," cried Steve, starting to follow the rest, and the dog wagged his tail and began to trot to his side, but in a lame, stiff fashion.

Just then, though, he caught sight of the great carca.s.s of the bear. Up went the hair about his throat and neck; he gave a fierce growl, forgot his lameness, and dashed at the bear's throat, stuck his teeth into it, and tried to give it a shake; then, loosening his hold reluctantly, he followed his master to the boat, which soon after reached the side of the _Hvalross_, where the cook announced the meal to be in perfect readiness, and to it tremendous justice was done.

"Seems nonsense to go to bed now, doesn't it?" said Steve, as they returned on deck to see the island beginning to grow distant as the vessel steamed slowly north-north-east, about a mile away from the solid blue-and-silver wall of ice on their left.

"Yes," said the doctor quietly; "but we must have rest. All this has come upon you so suddenly, because we have been shut up so long in that terrible fog."

"But we're leaving Jan Mayen for good, then?"

"Yes; there was nothing to stay for."

"And if we keep right on like this, where shall we go to next?"

"Come, come," said the doctor playfully; "you ought to know the chart.

I can tell you that."

"I know I ought to be able to say," replied Steve, with his brow wrinkled again; "but I'm puzzled, sir. I don't seem to have grasped it yet. Where are we making for?"

"Well, if the ice would let us get up there, we are going pretty straight for the North Pole; but I expect this great wall will keep us more to the east, and before long, if the weather keeps fine, we shall be sighting the land of peaks and mountains."

"Spitzbergen?" cried Steve.

"Well done; you have not forgotten everything."

"No, not quite. And we shall be amongst the walrus, seals, and reindeer, and--"

"To-morrow morning, boy!" cried the doctor. "It's rather soon after a heavy supper."

"But isn't it to-morrow morning to-day--I mean to-night--I mean--?"

"Bed, Steve, bed!" cried the doctor. "Come along, and I'll set you the example. Your head will be clearer after a good rest, and you won't be so ready to make bulls."

"Very well," said the boy, "I'll go; but I'm sure I shan't sleep a wink.

It's impossible, with the sun shining so bright and clear."

But it was not, for in a quarter of an hour he was soundly off, breathing heavily, and too thoroughly tired out to dream about the encounter with the bear.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

THE WHITE WHALE SHOAL.

"_What_ a horrid smell, Hamish! What is it?" cried Steve, going forward.

"Bear's grease, sir. They're chust cooking the fat we got yesterday.

Like to ha'e some in a pot for your hair?"

"What? Nonsense!"

"Mak' your whiskers grow, sir," said the man, grinning. "Look yonder; Watty Links has been for some. Leuk at his head."

Steve did look, to see that the boy's red hair was streaky, gummy, and shining, as he had been applying the grease wholesale--that is, with more liberality than care.

For the bear's fat--some three hundred and fifty pounds' weight--was in the great caldron surrounded by steam, which hissed beneath it from the engine-boiler as the _Hvalross_ glided slowly along about half a mile from the low, regular ice cliff, which stretched away apparently without end, glittering and displaying its lovely delicate tints of pale blue wherever it was shattered or riven at the edge.

"It does seem rum," said Steve to himself, "for the sun to be always up--let's see, what do you call it?--above the horizon."

As he reached the caldron he found Jakobsen, with his sleeves rolled above his brawny elbows, busily at work superintending the rendering down, and he looked up and gave the boy a friendly nod.

"Well, opposition cook!" cried Steve, laughing; "breakfast ready? What is it, bear-soup?"

"No, sir," said the man seriously, "only the fat."