CHAPTER XVIII.
THE PROFESSOR TAKES A COLD BATH.
"Give way, men!" shouted Ben Stubbs, who was in command of the boat; "them poor fellers must be perishin' of cold and hunger."
The boat fairly flew through the water, skillfully avoiding, under Ben's careful steering, the great floes of ice which were drifting about.
The boys and the professor were in the bow, eagerly scanning the raft with the four black figures upon it. The castaways kept waving their arms in the most pitiable fashion.
Suddenly the professor exclaimed:
"There's something queer about those men!"
"You'd be queer, too, if you was drifting about the polar seas on an old raft," returned Ben Stubbs.
All the men laughed at this and the professor said no more. But he scanned the "castaways" carefully, and so did the boys. As they drew nearer, the latter also began to observe that they were the funniest looking men they had ever seen.
"They've got on long black coats with white waistcoats to their knees," cried Billy.
"So they have," exclaimed Harry. "If it wasn't too ridiculous, you'd say they had on evening clothes."
"They're not men at all," suddenly shouted the professor, with an air of triumph. "I thought I was not mistaken."
"Not men!" roared Ben. "What are the poor critters, then—females?"
"Neither men nor women," was the astonishing reply. "They are penguins."
All the men turned at this, and one of them, who had sailed in the polar regions before, announced, with a shout of laughter:
"The doc is right. Them's Emperor penguins, sure enough—taking a joy-ride through the ice."
The queer birds betrayed not the slightest excitement at the approach of the boat, but stood gazing solemnly at it, waving their little flippers,—somewhat like those of a seal, only feathered,—up and down in a rhythmic way.
"They act like band leaders," was Frank's remark.
"Better go back to the ship," said Ben, much disgusted at the upshoot of the expedition, and somewhat chagrined, too, if the truth must be told, at the professor's triumph over him.
"No, let us catch one," urged the professor. "I would like to see if it is possible to tame one."
"Yes, let's go up to them and see what they look like at close range," cried Frank.
"All right, if we don't waste too much time," agreed Ben. "Give way, men."
They soon drew near the strange South Polar birds who blinked solemnly at them as if to say:
"And who may you be?"
As they bobbed up and down on the piece of drift wood the boys had mistaken for a raft, the sight was so ludicrous that the boys burst into a hearty laugh.
"Hush," warned the professor, holding up his hand; "you may scare them."
They were big birds of their kind, standing fully four feet, and it was not strange that from the ship they had been mistaken for shipwrecked men; indeed, it is not the first time such an incident has occurred in the South Polar climes.
"Steady now, men," said the professor, bowing his lean form over the bow of the boat as they drew near to the penguins.
"Ah! my feathered beauties, if you will only stay there and not move, I will soon have one of you," he whispered to himself, as the boat,—the men rowing as silently as possible,—glided alongside.
The birds made no sign of moving, and evidently had not the slightest fear of the strange beings, such as the newcomers must have seemed to them. Instead, they seemed mildly curious and stretched their necks out inquiringly.
"Here, chick-chick-chicky," called the professor, by an odd inspiration, as if he were calling to the chickens in the barnyard at home.
"Here, chick-chick-chicky. Pretty chick-chick-chicky."
Suddenly he made a grab for the nearest penguin, and at the same instant the boys gave a shout of dismay. As he seized it, the creature—affrighted when it felt the professor's bony arms about it,—had dived and the scientist, losing his balance, had followed it into the water.
This might not have been so serious, but the other penguins, seeing the professor's plight, started to attack him, beating him back into the icy water every time he came to the surface.
"Ouch, you brute—oh, boys, help—o-o-o-h, this water is cold. Get me out, somebody. Scat, get away, you penguins."
These were some of the cries uttered by the luckless professor, as he struggled to get to the inside of the boat.
When they could, for laughing at the ludicrous plight, the men and the boys beat off the big penguins with the oars and hauled the professor into the boat. His nose was pecked badly and was of a ruddy hue from his misadventure. Fortunately, one of the men had some stimulant with him and this was given to the professor to drink and the strong stuff quickly revived him. He sat up in the boat and talked with animation while the boat was being rowed back to the ship.
"Bless my soul, what an adventure," he puffed. "Ouch, my poor nose. I thought the penguins would peck it off. Boys, that penguin was as slippery as a greased pig and as fat as butter. Oh, dear, what a misadventure, and I've ruined a good suit of clothes and broken a bottle of specimens I had in the pockets. Never mind, I can catch some more."
Thus the professor rattled on, from time to time feeling his very prominent nose, apparently in some doubt as to whether he still retained the feature.
"I guess you are cured of penguin hunting?" remarked Frank.
"Who, I?" asked the professor, in mild surprise. "Oh, no, my dear boy.
I will get a penguin yet, even if I have to fight a regiment of them.
I'll get one, never fear, and tame him to eat out of my hand."
"I hope so, I'm sure," said Frank, with a smile at the odd old man's enthusiasm.
"Hullo, what's that?" cried Billy, suddenly pointing.
"What?" chorused the boys.
"Why that creature off there on the ice flapping about,—it seems to be in distress."
"There is certainly something the matter with it," agreed Frank.
What seemed to be a huge bird was struggling and flapping about on the floes at no great distance from them.
"Other birds are attacking it!" cried Billy.
It was so, indeed. Numerous albatrosses and other large sea birds and gulls were hovering above the struggling creature, from time to time diving and pecking it.
"What in the world can it be?" cried Frank.
"We might go and see, but the professor is wet and should get back to the ship," said Ben.
"Oh, my dear sir, don't mind me," demurred that individual. "If I could have a little more of the stimulant—ah, thank you—as I was saying, I am never in a hurry to go anywhere when there is an interesting question of natural history to be solved."
"Very well, then," said Ben, heading the boat about; "if you catch cold, don't blame me."
"Oh dear, no. I wouldn't think of such a thing," said the professor, his eyes eagerly fixed on the disturbance of the birds.
"It's a big wounded albatross!" suddenly exclaimed Billy, as the boat drew near to the object the other birds were attacking.
"So it is," cried Harry.
"A monster, too," supplemented the professor. "It would be a great find for any collection."
"Perhaps we can catch it and stuff it," cried Billy.
"Perhaps so; but we must hurry or the others will have pecked it to bits."
The boat flew through the water, and soon they were near enough to drive the other birds away. The wounded albatross, however, did not rise, but lay flapping on the ice.
"Why, bless my soul, how very extraordinary!" cried the professor, forgetting his wet clothes and his chill in his excitement.
"What is?" asked Frank.
"Why something seems to be holding the bird down under water," was the answer.
"It's a string!" suddenly cried Ben, standing up in the stern of the boat.
"A string?" echoed the professor.
"Sure enough," was the reply.
And so it proved. The albatross was held down by a bit of string encircling its neck so tightly as to almost choke it, and which had become caked with ice till it was quite heavy.
"I know that bird," shouted the professor, suddenly, as they drew alongside it.
"You know it?" echoed the others, thinking the old man had taken leave of his senses.
"Yes, yes," cried the professor. "It's the one that nearly dragged me overboard. See whether the wire loop is still round its neck."
"It sure is," exclaimed Ben, as, disregarding the pecks of the big bird, he dragged it struggling into the boat and pinioned its wings.
"Well, this is a most extraordinary happening," smiled the professor, as happy as if he had been left a million dollars. "This will be most interesting to scientists and will make my name famous. 'The Sandburr albatross, which flew many scores of miles with my lasso round its neck.' Wonderful. Poor creature. I suppose as it dipped into the waves for its food a thin film of ice formed on the cord till it grew too heavy for it to carry."
"That's right," said Ben, who had cut the lasso and released the creature from its hampering weight. "I'll bet this weighs ten or twelve pounds."
He held out a huge chunk of ice for their inspection.
"That's great weight for a bird to carry so many miles," said Frank.
"It is, indeed," said the professor, patting the bound albatross on the head. "That makes it all the more remarkable."
"What are you going to do with the albatross, now that you have him?" inquired Billy Barnes.
"I must make a cage for him out of packing cases, and perhaps we can tame him," said the professor.
All agreed that this would be an interesting experiment, and the boat pulled back to the ship with one passenger more than she had left it with. As for the professor, he was in the seventh heaven of delight all the way back.
He sat on a stern seat by the albatross, which was looking wildly about, and kept talking to it as if he thought it could understand him.
"Ah, my beauty, I'll astonish Professor Tapper with you when I get home," he said; "you are worthy to be ranked with the fur-bearing South Polar pollywog. I will feed you till your feathers shine and you are the envied of all birds. I am the most fortunate man in the world."
All hands enjoyed a hearty laugh as, on the return to the ship, their adventures were narrated.
"The poor professor never seems to go out but what he gets into some pickle or other," laughed Captain Barrington, who was joined in his merriment by Captain Hazzard. "But, dear me," he went on, "where is the professor?"
They ran out on deck and found the man of science seated in the boat, which had not yet been hauled up, as the vessels were not to weigh anchor till the next day,—the berth where they lay being a snug one.
"Why don't you come on board, professor?" asked Captain Hazzard, indicating the accommodation ladder, which had been lowered.
"I-I'd like to, but I can't," responded the professor.
"You can't? Why, what on earth do you mean? You'll freeze to death down there," roared Captain Barrington.
"I wish you'd send down a small stove," wailed the scientist.
"A small stove; why, what do you want with that?"
"Why the fact is, I'm sozzen to the feet—I mean frozen to the seat, and if you can't send down a stove, send down another pair of trousers!" was the calm reply.
When the perfect tempest of laughter at the poor professor's expense had subsided, he was hauled to the deck in the boat and handed a long coat. Only till then would he consent to get up from the seat, an operation which was attended by a loud sound of ripping and tearing.
"Ha, ha, ha," roared Captain Hazzard. "First the professor nearly loses his life, and then he loses his trousers!"