CHAPTER IX
SPINNING YARNS
“Suppose she should be wrecked and never came back!” asked Tom as they turned away from watching the bark sail. “What would happen to us?”
“Wall, we ain’t a calc’latin’ on that,” replied Cap’n Pem, “but jes’ the same, we wouldn’t be so bad off ef she didn’t. We’ve got a-plenty o’ grub an’ if wusser come to wusser I reckon we could salt down enough Jackasses an’ albatrosses an’ sea elephants to keep us alive fer quite some spell. ’Twouldn’t be the fust time folks has been lef’ down this way count o’ their ships not turnin’ up in time.”
“Be gob, no!” declared Mike who stood near. “B’gorra, Oi had a frind once, a foine chap entoirely, phwat tould me a sthory av a frind o’ his phwat knowed a feller phwat wuz lift fer three mortal years on wan av these oilan’s. Shure ’tis mesilf phwat’s afther forgettin’ the name av it; but ’twas Quirlicue Lan’ or somethin’ loike thot. Sure, yis, b’gorra, Misther Potter, ’twas that same! Kerguelan, is it? Well, as Oi was afther sayin’ they wuz lift three years, an’ Faith, only wan av the bunch doied an’ he a Portugee phwat didn’t doi but was afther killin’ av himself. So don’t yez be a woorryin’ av yersilves me b’ys. Sure, ’tis not a bad place to sthop at all, at all.”
“Well, I don’t want to be marooned here for three years, anyhow,” maintained Jim. “I guess I wouldn’t mind a few weeks or months, but just think what it must be like in winter when the seas are all frozen and the place is covered with ice and snow. What would you do if the Hector didn’t come back on time, Cap’n Pem?”
“Now, what’s the everlastin’ use o’ talkin’ ’bout it,” replied the mate testily. “There ain’t no ’arthly reason why the Hector shouldn’t turn up an’ if she didn’t, I’d wait a spell an’ then take to the boats. Twouldn’t be no sail ’tall to make Tristan d’ Cunha or the Falklands from here.”
“Why, they’re hundreds of miles off!” exclaimed Tom. “You don’t mean to say you’d try to get there in those little boats!”
Cap’n Pem snorted, “’Course I would!” he declared. “Little boats! Look a-here, son, them there whaleboats is the bes’ seagoin’ craft afloat. I tell ye, I’d rather be in them there boats in a sea than in a heap o’ big ships. Why, bless your heart! I could tell ye more’n one yarn o’ whalemen what sailed more’n three thousan’ miles in boats like them.”
“Oh, do tell us about them!” cried Jim.
“Not now,” replied the old whaleman, “We’ve gotter git busy. Mebbe ’long arter dinner I’ll spin ye a yarn.”