“A bit fishy in flavor, lad. A bit fishy,” agreed Captain Bluntt. “But a man o’ the sea and a sportsman shouldn’t mind that.”
“Well I don’t like it,” asserted Paul, “but I killed it and I’m going to eat some of it anyway.”
“That’s the right spirit,” said Remington, “but I think I’ll pass it by. I never could bring myself to eat polar bear or seal. Perhaps because I never had to.”
“I can’t say that I care for it,” admitted Ainsworth.
“’Tis fine meat, I thinks,” declared Captain Bluntt, helping himself liberally. “I finds it fine. Bear’s meat is rare strong meat.”
“I don’t think I can go it,” said Paul, who had tried another mouthful. “It’s strong, all right—too strong of fish for me.”
“I weren’t meanin’ that kind o’ strong. No, no! ’Tis good, wholesome, strengthenin’ meat. ’Tis not so high flavored of fish, either, as old swile, an’ swile is good.”
“Swile? What’s that?” asked Paul.
“Seal, lad, seal. We calls un swile in Newfoundland and down on the Labrador. Swile an’ ice bears live on fish, lad, and ’tis but natural they should carry a bit of the flavor of fish. That rascal the cook should have given un an extra parboil.”
“I didn’t suppose any one but Eskimos ate seal.”