Seven Frozen Sailors

“Long pork!” said the doctor.

And Abram clapped his hands over his mouth, to stay his laughter.

“Yes,” growled Scudds, grinning, and showing a wonderfully white set of teeth; “long pork – long pig – human! Don’t you see? You’d keep a boat’s crew for a fortnit, if they were hard up and starvin’. Hor – hor – hor – hor!”

“My good man,” cried the doctor, shuddering, “that’s a very good joke, no doubt, and very funny, only don’t make it about me again; try it on somebody else! Such a dreadfully anthropophagistic idea!”

“Which?” growled Scudds.

“Well, then, cannibal idea,” said the doctor, shuddering again.

“Lor’, sir, I meant no harm,” said Scudds holding out his great, heavy paw, which the doctor shook. “I’ve often made it about long, thin, Abram Borstick, there; only when I makes it about him, I allers puts it t’other way, and says he’d starve a boat’s crew for a fortnit. Don’t you see?”

“Oh, yes, I see!” said the doctor, nodding.

“And it’s the only joke he ever does make, sir,” says Abram.

“Right,” growled Scudds.

“I didn’t mean no offence, sir, about your going, neither,” said Abram, respectfully. “Of course it’ll be a great advantage to have a doctor on board. You air a doctor, sir?”

“Yes,” said our stout employer, laughing till his cheeks wabbled. “I can cure anything from a frost-bite to a flea-bite; but I’m not an M.D.”

“No; of course not, sir,” says Abram, nodding his head sagely.

“I mean, sir, not a doctor of medicine.”

“Good job, too,” growled Scudds. “Yah! I hates physic!” and he looked about for somewhere to spit, ending by opening the room door, and disposing of his tobacco-juice on the mat.

“Well, then, sir,” I said, rising, “here are our first and second mates, and I’ll get together a crew of sixteen men in a few days, and meet you every morning on board.”

“My sarvice to you, sir,” said Abram, touching his forehead.

“And mine,” growled Scudds.

I was close beside the doctor now, and held the chair as he rose, otherwise he would have lifted it with him. Then we took our leave, and I walked down Hull Street with my two old shipmates.

“Where did you pick up the skipper?” growled Scudds.

“Well,” I said, “he’s been dodging me about for a week, and been mighty civil, so much so, that I thought he wanted to try the confidence dodge on me, of trusting one another with money; but it’s all right, my lads, we’ve found a good ship and owner, and the pay’s good, so we’ll sign the articles to-morrow, and get to work.”

I needn’t tell you all that took place during the next mouth; how we got coal on board, and stores, and casks for oil, or whatever we might get; had her cabins lined to keep them warm; fitted up stoves; had plenty of extra canvas and spars, ice-anchors, a couple of sledges; plenty of ammunition, and provisions enough for two years. Last of all came on board a whole lot of strange-looking mahogany cases, which the doctor had brought very carefully under his own superintendence, and then, one fine morning in June, we steamed out of the Humber, and away we went to the North, with the doctor going about the deck like an active tub, rubbing his hands, and smiling at every body.

Everything was soon ship-shape; boats ready for work, fur coats and boots served out to the men against they were wanted, and I was very busy one morning getting some of the tackle a little better stowed, when the doctor waddled up to me, and tapped me on the shoulder.

I turned round, and he led the way into the cabin, sat down, and pointed to a seat.

“Now, Captain Cookson,” he said, “I think it’s time to tell you about my plans.”

“If you please, sir,” I said, “that is if it suits you.”

“Well,” he said, “you are now sailing to the North.”

“Yes, sir, according to your orders, right away for Spitzbergen.”

“And do you know what for?”

“Discovery of some kind, sir, I suppose.”

“You are right, Captain; I mean to discover the North Pole.”

“With all my heart, sir,” I said.

“At least,” he said, “I mean to try. If I fail, I shall still be able to make a good many scientific discoveries, so that the voyage won’t be for nothing.”

“No, sir,” I said.

“It has been one of the dreams of my life to go upon a scientific voyage up in the North; but the Admiralty wouldn’t listen to me. They had the notion that I was not a suitable man for the expedition; when all the while Nature has expressly designed me for the purpose. See how she has clothed me with adipose tissue.”

“With what, sir?”

“Fat, man – fat! like she does the bears, and whales, and Eskimo. While you men will be shivering in your fur coats, I shall be quite warm without. Well, what we have to do is to take advantage of every open channel when we reach the ice, and push forward due North. If the men get discontented, we will keep promising them extra pay, and – What’s the matter?”

“Skipper, sir!” growled Scudds, who had just thrust his head in at the cabin door. “Wanted on deck, sir – reg’lar mutinee. Tom Brown’s come up from below, and says as there’s a ghost in the hold!”

“Where – where?” cried the doctor, excitedly, as he waddled out of the cabin, thoroughly earning the nickname the men had bestowed upon him of The Penguin. “Captain, get one of the casks ready for a specimen. I have never seen a ghost!”

“Ain’t he a rum beggar, skipper?” whispered Scudds, as we followed him on deck, where a knot of the crew were standing round one of the foremast-men, Tom Brown, whose face was covered with perspiration, his hair being plastered down upon his forehead.

“Well, where’s the ghost, my man?” said the doctor.

“Down in the hold, sir. You can hear him a-groaning!”

The doctor led the way down the open hatch; and I followed, to give him a push down, if he stuck fast, finding that there was something in the man’s alarm, for from out of the darkness came, every now and then, a deep, sighing groan.

“Why, there’s some one there!” cried the doctor.

“Here, quick, half a dozen of you!” I shouted, for an idea had just struck me; and, getting a lantern, I crept over some of the stores to where stood a row of casks, to one of which I traced the voice.

“Hallo!” I cried, tapping the cask; when there came a rustling noise from inside, and a tap or two seemed given by a hand.

“Found anything?” said the doctor, who had stuck fast between the stores and the deck.

“It’s a stowaway, I think,” I answered; and, creeping back, with the groans becoming more frequent, I gave orders, had some of the hatches taken off farther along the deck, and just over where the cask lay; and then, by means of some strong tackle, we hauled the cask out on deck, to find it only partly headed, and from out of it half slipped, half crawled, a pale, thin, ghastly looking young fellow, of about four or five-and-twenty.

“Why, it’s Smith!” exclaimed the doctor.

“Water – food!” gasped the poor wretch, lying prostrate on his side.