Then they perceived one of the long, narrow native boats, known as a kayak, drawn up alongside the wharf, as it may be called, with the Esquimau in the act of stepping out.
He contemplated the sight in silent wonderment, for, it is safe to say, he had never been approached in that fashion before.
Jack was the first to recover the perpendicular, and he impulsively reached out his mittened hand to the native, who was clad in furs, with a short jacket and a hood, which covered all his head, excepting the front of his face.
"How do you do, my hearty? I never was so glad to see any one in my life as I am to see you."
"Glad to meet you," replied the Esquimau, somewhat abashed by the effusive greeting; "where you come from?"
"From the iceberg," and then reflecting that this good friend was entitled to a full explanation, the sailor added:
"We visited this berg, yesterday, from the ship "Nautilus;" our boat was carried away before we knew it, and the gale drove the ship so far out of her course that we haven't seen a thing of her since. How came you to know we were here?"
"Heard gun go off—didn't know where it be—hear it again—then know it here—then come to you."
"Were you ashore?"
"Started out to fish—you go ashore with me?"