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Steve Young, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 8. Disappointment |
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_ CHAPTER EIGHT. DISAPPOINTMENT There was no fear of being overtaken by the darkness of night, for the sun shone brilliantly, as if to make up for the long dreary time that it was hidden from the face of the earth; and its genial warmth had so great an effect upon the spirits of the men that they were all alert and eager for action, watching the shore intently for traces of the crew of the wrecked vessel, and for a break in the tremendous waves where a boat could get to shore in safety. Even the dog partook of the general feeling of exhilaration, rushing frantically about the deck, charging at the sailors open-mouthed, with his frill set up round his neck, and when apparently about to seize them thrusting his muzzle down close to the deck and rolling over and over. They glided on as near to the line of breakers as it was safe, the steam giving Captain Marsham such complete control over the movements of the vessel that Steve pointed out the fact triumphantly to Andrew McByle. "Ay," he said, "she's ferry goot in her way, the hot watter, but gie me sails. Where wad she pe if ta fire went oot?" "And where wad she pe if ta wind went doon?" cried Steve, out of patience with the man's obstinacy. "Tat's ferry pad language, Meester Steve Young, sir. Ton't you try to imitate ta gran' Gaelic tongue, pecause she can never to it. She'd have to pe porn north o' Glasgie to speak ta gran' Gaelic tongue proper." "Then you shouldn't be so obstinate," said Steve, somewhat abashed. "Call that dog down, my lad," cried the captain, "or he'll be overboard!" For Skene had leaped up on the bowsprit, made his way from there on to the bulwarks, and was running along the top wherever it was clear of rope or shroud, barking with all his might at the astonished birds which came wheeling round the ship, swooping so low at times that they nearly brushed the dog with their long grey wings, making him snap at them vainly. But the intense excitement produced by the change to warmth and sunshine seemed to border on a kind of rollicking madness; and bubbling over with fun Skene turned quite mutinous, barking as if derisively in response to every call, and evading Steve as he chased him, the boy running along the deck and making dashes at the dog, who avoided him by his superior activity, till, getting at last quite close, Steve made a snatch at his quarry's hind leg and grasped it firmly. Almost at the same instant Skene made a bound, dragged his leg away, and came down in a double astride upon the top of the bulwark, tried to recover himself, got upon his legs, again slipped, nearly went overboard, but saved himself by another leap, and came down upon the deck flop. Before he could get up Steve was upon him, holding by the long hair of the animal's neck. Then there was a sharp struggle, in which the boy won, and Skene turned his head round, looked up in his master's face, and uttered a pitiful howl, the cry and the way in which it was uttered seeming so wonderfully human and so thoroughly to express the dog's ideas, "Oh, what a shame, when I was enjoying myself so!" that Steve burst into a fit of laughing. "C'ssss! Bite him then," came from the door of the galley, and Steve looked sharply round to see Watty's head just outside the door, and the movement made him slacken his hold of the dog. _Wuph_! One deep utterance, half growl, half bark. Skene was free, and Steve on his side, while the dog charged right at Watty, striking the door heavily with his fore paws, as the cook's new assistant snatched his head inside and pulled the door to. "Serve you right!" muttered Steve, gaining his feet. "Quiet, Skeny! Down!" For the dog was gazing up at the spot where Watty's head had disappeared, and growling fiercely. The next moment Watty appeared at the window. "I'll tell the skipper ye sat the tyke at me!" cried the boy. "If you don't behave yourself I will!" retorted Steve; and then patting Skene's head he walked away, the dog, quite sobered now, following him, muttering in growls, and looking back now and then at the galley, whose door was softly opened, and a hand protruded holding a piece of cold salt meat. Skene saw it, and hesitated. Then he stopped short, and Watty whistled and wriggled the piece of meat about. That was too much for any animal. Meat is meat after all, and to keep him healthy Skene had been dieted a good deal upon biscuit. He was only a dog, and rushing back, he snatched the piece in his trap-like jaws. "Poor fellow, then; poor old Skene!" whispered Watty. But he might as well have whispered his soothing words to the winds, for the dog only uttered a low growl and trotted back to his master, who was once more eagerly scanning the coast. But it was always very much the same: heavy breakers tumbling over to a chain of rocks--foaming, rushing, falling back, and swinging to and fro till fresh help came from the tide, and they gathered themselves for a fresh assault. Beyond the waves a more or less narrow line of shore, and then cliff, and above that mountainous heights glittering with ice and snow, and here and there in some opening a frozen river looking as if it were rushing headlong down to the sea, but hanging there solid, save for a little rill which trickled forth from a cavern of celestial blue at its foot. They steamed on for hours quite slowly, rounding the southern shore, and then further progress was stayed, for, once more, there before them was the low cliff of ice, extending apparently right up behind the island, and connecting it with the mainland. Ice everywhere now, and another mountain, emitting a faint film of smoke. "No sign of human being on the shore: all that journey southward for nothing," said the doctor. "One can hardly call it for nothing, eh, Steve?" said the captain. "We have satisfied ourselves pretty well that our friends are not here." "But they may be inland beyond those cliffs, sir!" cried the boy. "Maybe, Steve, my lad," said the captain sadly; "but as far as we can make out there is no chance for a human being to exist there. Any one wrecked in such an inhospitable place would certainly have taken to a sheltered spot under the cliffs, where he would be protected from the coldest winds. Aloft there!" "Ay, ay, sir!" "What do you make out over the cliffs there to westward and north?" "Ice and snow, sir," came for answer from the crow's-nest. "No good land?" "No, sir. All ice and snow piled up higher and higher. There's that frozen river goes winding up right into the mountains." "No place for a camp?" "No, sir; not as far as I can see." These were the quiet, sober words of Johannes, who was aloft once more, armed with a telescope. "Any opening where we could land on the ice-floe?" cried Captain Marsham. "No, sir," came back after a time; "nothing here. Any boat would be stove in directly." "What shall you do now?" said the doctor; and Steve listened eagerly for the reply. "'Bout ship and coast up again, then follow the edge of the ice away to the north and east. But we'll keep close in, as we know the water is deep. We may, perhaps, find a landing-place which we have missed coming down." Another look round was given, and they began to steam north once more. _ |
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