“I say, rather a tight fit,” said Steve, laughing. “Wouldn’t do for two people to quarrel packed together in a barrel like this.”
“But why have you come up, sir? Did the mate send any message?”
“No, I tell you,” cried Steve. “I only saw that you were up here, and thought I should like to come up for a chat.”
“Very good of you, sir,” said the man quietly. “Got over the scare of the fog?”
“Oh yes, now. It’s of no use to worry about things when they’re over. It was dangerous, though, wasn’t it?”
“Very, sir,” said the Norseman gravely. “Three poor fellows from our town rowed away from their ship with three Swedish men. They were after walrus. One of those fogs came on, and they were never seen again.”
“No? What became of them?”
Johannes shook his head.
“The great sea is wide, sir,” he replied. “The fog confused them, and they must have rowed in the wrong direction, been caught in one of the strong currents, and then tried to reach home as they could not find their ship. There are terrible losses out here in some summers.”
“Was it near here that they were lost?” said Steve, after a few minutes’ silence, during which he pictured the sufferings of the despairing boat’s crew.