Mr. Kemp spat reflectively into the sea. “Some kids,” he remarked tersely.
At last the brigantine was clear of the shore ice, ahead stretched patches and lanes of open water, and under a light wind the Ruby went bumping and crashing on her way towards Rowe’s Welcome and the stove Narwhal.
“I suppose you men have a heap of queer adventures,” remarked Mr. Kemp as Sergeant Manley stopped for a chat. “I was mate with a chap what was in the force once, when I was on the destroyer.”
The Sergeant smiled. “Yes, we get our share,” he replied, “but most of ’em pretty much alike—runnin’ down renegades and outlaws. If any one wants plenty of exercise and out-doors air, I’ll recommend the force. To-day’s job’s the queerest I ever had yet, though. A Northwest policeman’s supposed to do most anything that turns up, but I’d never have dreamed of bein’ called on to board a ship and put down a mutiny.”
The next day the Ruby worked her way past Southampton Island into the Welcome. Eagerly the boys peered ahead for the first glimpse of the Narwhal and the village of their Eskimo friends.
“It’s been a fine cruise,” declared Jim, “but it makes me feel almost sick to think of leaving the old Narwhal here.”
“Humph!” snorted Cap’n Pem. “Ships has got ter go sometimes—same’s folks. Reckon the Welcome’s as good a place’s any ter let her ol’ bones rest. ’Sides, ye won’t lose nothin’, Dixon had her insured ter the limit.”
“That’s not it,” said Tom. “It’s like losing an old friend. Why, you know how we’d feel if we left you or any of the others up here, Cap’n Pem.”
The old whaleman turned his head, blew his nose loudly on his red cotton handkerchief and cleared his throat. “Derned if I don’t know jes how ye feel,” he replied. “Hate fer to see a ol’ ship go myself. Wall, there ain’t no help fer it. Everlastin’ lucky we salvaged all the cargo.”