It was not easy, and he knew that it was infra dig even to show that he was annoyed, let alone attempting to “serve the boy out,” as he termed it; but the desire to give Watty some punishment for his annoyance increased.
The opportunity came at last; the extent of Steve’s forbearance was at an end. He was going forward to join the four Norwegians, who were busy preparing one of the boats for their first expedition against the walrus, so that when the time came everything might be quite ready, when Watty rushed hurriedly out of the galley, turned sharply upon seeing him, burst into one of his silent fits of laughter, and hurried back through the door.
It all happened in a moment, and Watty’s departure was hastened far more than he intended. There was a bound, a kick, and the boy disappeared with a crash, followed by a burst of objurgations, the sound of cuffs and blows, and a whining voice raised pitifully in appeal and explanation. But he had evidently knocked something down in his unceremonious and hasty entrance, and the irate cook was in no temper either to listen to explanations or to believe in what he immediately set down as an excuse.
Steve stood listening to the struggle within, his anger gone, like the electricity in a Leyden jar, at a touch, and he was about to enter the galley and explain, when Watty rushed out, darted forward, and dived down the hatchway into the forecastle, from which place he was ignominiously fetched by the cook like some culprit arrested by a policeman; and the next time he met Steve without the faintest suggestion of a smile upon his countenance.
Chapter Six.
First Perils.
The next day there was something else to think about, for the arctic summer strongly resembled a temperate zone winter. The wind came in heavy gusts from the north-east; there were snow-squalls which shut them in, and on passing away left the deck an inch deep in the soft white fur, while for a time every yard, rope, and sail was covered.
“Doesn’t seem much like June, eh, Steve?” said the doctor.