Laughing and talking, they clambered up the bark’s sides and came aboard, greeting Captain Edwards and others by name, shaking hands with every one and speaking with a peculiar accent that seemed to be a cross between cockney English and down-east Yankee,—impossible to describe.
All were very friendly and plied the skipper and every one else with questions about the war, about affairs in the States, about the cruise of the Hector and a thousand and one other things. Captain Edwards produced a huge bundle of papers and magazines and a packet of letters for them, and presently a sturdy, tow-headed youth approached the boys.
“My name’s Paul Potter and this is my brother, Getty,” he announced, as a younger, freckled-faced boy joined them. “You’re the first American boys I’ve seen in four years.”
“My name’s Tom Chester and this is Jim Lathrop,” said. Tom. “We’re from Fair Haven. Are you any relation to Cap’n Pem? His name’s Potter, too.”
“Shouldn’t be a bit surprised,” replied Paul, “Gran’ther was a New Bedford whaleman and there are lots of Potters here.”
“Yep, an’ plenty o’ Chesters and Lathrops, too,” put in Getty. “Say, tell us all about the war an’ what’s goin’ on. We be’nt heard nary word for nigh a year.”
“Has America gone into it?” added Paul. “Last we heard was when our ships licked the Germans over t’ Falklands. One of them called in here to parse the news.”
Willingly, Tom and Jim related all the most important news of the war which had taken place since the islanders had last heard from the outside world, and the four boys were soon fast friends. Then the Potter boys asked about the cruise and the trip down.
“Wisht us might go ’long,” declared Getty. “I’d like for to see a whale killed, wouldn’t you, Paul?”
“Rather!” agreed his brother. “And I’d jolly well like to go to the South Shetlands ’long of you boys. We’ve ne’er been offen Tristan, you know.”