“Back, Skeny! Stop there, boy!” shouted Steve; and his words checked the dog just as he was about to leap down.
At that moment a frank-looking, middle-aged man came to the side, and looked down at them. “Any good, sir?” he said; “or are we too late for them?”
“All right, Lowe,” said the captain. “Four of the best men in port promised.”
“Old Hendal promise them, sir?”
“Yes.”
“Then it is all right,” said the new comer on the scene, to wit, Mr James Lowe, the chief officer, an experienced sailor in the Northern Seas, who had applied to Captain Marsham for a post on the vessel while it was fitting out at Birkenhead, joined it at Oban, and proved himself a thoroughly good navigator in bringing them round by the many islands and fast currents of the west coast of Scotland, and then across to Norway and up through the fiords to Nordoe.
A couple of hours later, as the occupants of the Hvalross lounged about enjoying the delicious sunshine of the short northern summer, and those fresh to the coast gazed admiringly at the towering cliffs, snow-capped mountains, and thundering waterfalls which plunged headlong into the pure waters of the fiord, which reflected all like a mirror, a heavy boat pushed off from the wharf, and Captain Hendal climbed on deck. He was followed by four sturdy-looking descendants of the Vikings, clear-eyed, fair-haired, massive-headed men, who looked ready and willing to go through any danger, and who one and all declared themselves eager to start, on one condition—that they should not be expected to stoke the engine fire. This was conceded instantly. A few questions were then asked by Captain Hendal as to the stores and materiel on board the vessel; and it being found that everything likely to be wanted had been thought of and provided, and that every possible place beside the bunkers was crammed with coal, the Norwegian captain took his leave with the new recruits.
That evening the men were back on board with their kits; quite a crowd of people were about the wharf, consequent upon the new interest for them which the vessel possessed, and an hour later, steam being up, the anchor was raised, and the sturdy-looking grey vessel glided away through the calm waters of the fiord amidst a loud burst of cheers.
Northward ho! for the region of the midnight sun.