There was the seat ready for resting upon; the iron rail all round for a rest for a telescope, and attached to this rail the broad piece of board which could be run round in any direction to act as a screen from the wind when it blew hard and was perhaps cold enough to give frost-bite to the unfortunate watcher up aloft.
A hail from the deck put an end to Steve’s sea sweeping, just as he fancied he made out something dark to the south, which might have been a boat or some large fish. So, stooping down in his narrow cell, he raised the bottom, and began to lower himself down, till his feet, which sought for a resting-place, touched the second rail of the ladder they had made, and he thoroughly grasped now how necessary their work had been.
“Steady, sir!” cried Johannes, as he stepped lower. “Keep the door resting upon your head, so that it don’t come down with a bang; it might hurt you.”
“All right,” said the lad, obeying the instructions to the letter, while the two men who stood on the shrouds to starboard and port watched him carefully. “That’s it, isn’t it?” he continued, as he stepped lower, and the trap-door bottom closed with a gentle tap.
“Make anything out?” cried Captain Marsham from the deck.
“Yes, sir!” cried Steve eagerly. “Three pieces of ice to the north, and there’s something dark right away south that looks like a boat bottom upwards.”
“Eh? Look again. What do you make it to be, my lad?”
This to one of the Norwegian sailors, who placed a hand over his eyes, and took a long look to the south.
“Well, what do you make of it?”
“Small whale, I should say, sir. But if it be,” he said, after a short pause, “she’s lying asleep in the sunshine.”