'You've pulled well, lads,' said the mate, 'and all against the current too. So you can have fifteen minutes of a rest, a smoke, and a tot of rum each, then we'll start for off again.'
Lotty was charmed. She wanted to play at a game of romance, so she lifted the baby seal in her arms and went away with it to a hummock of snow on this great berg, quite out of hearing of anybody, and sat down with nothing before her except the world-wide waste of ocean that went stretching away without break to the haze of the limitless northern horizon.
She was trying to fancy herself all alone on the sea of ice, with only her fairy godmother who had for the time being turned herself into a beautiful wee baby sealkin.
CHAPTER XV.
'I WANT TO DREAM THAT DREAM AGAIN.'
THE baby sealkin became a great pet on board and a kind of bond of union between Ben and Lotty. This sailor wasn't much over sixteen, just young enough still to delight in a game of make-believe. So he was papa and Lotty was mamma to young Norlans. And without a doubt, Norlans was the sweetest and the prettiest and the best-behaved baby that ever lived, and boy and girl nursed it time about—that is, when Ben's watch wasn't on deck Norlans's fur was so long that it had to have a bib when it was being fed. There wasn't a cow on board, but there were lots of condensed milk and gulls' eggs, and a sop was made of these, which his little lordship condescended to suck up as long as Lotty kept a finger in his mouth and his nose in the bowl, but no longer. But he also had fresh fish, for they got becalmed on a sandbank, which no doubt had been an island once upon a time in the world's history, and Norlans's daddy got out his lines, and, baiting his hooks with only little tufts of gulls' white feathers, soon caught a tubful. The small ones were all kept alive to feed Norlans, and the pretty mite seemed to grow in strength and even size every day after this.
As the captain's wife was fond of pets of all kinds she made no objection to Lotty's taking Norlans down to the saloon and to the stateroom or sleeping-cabin every night. The latter was occupied now only by Mrs Skipper—as the men called her—and our heroine, Ben having been banished forwards, so that the mate had his bunk, and Paterson had the mate's cabin.
It is a fine thing for a sea-captain to be allowed to take his wife with him. It is romantic too, and makes a honeymoon last for years, if not for ages. Before getting spliced, which he was wise enough not to do until he was a full-blown master-mariner, Paterson had always looked forward to having his Maggie with him at sea. It had been the dream of his life, and lo! it was fulfilled, the fact being that the sailor had worked out its fulfilment. When visiting his fiancée while only a mate he used to sing to her snatches of an old song which I have almost forgotten; but one verse runs through my brain as I write:
Here in my proud ship
Upon the waters wide,
I roam with a glad heart,
Maggie's by my side;
My own love, Maggie dear,
Sitting by my side;
Maggie dear, my own love,
Sitting by my side.
Well, Norlans had any amount of nursing and really appeared to like it. If Lotty put him down on the quarterdeck he used to make the most ungainly efforts to waddle after her, often rolling over on his broad back in a very ridiculous attitude. He liked to be scratched under the chin and beneath the ear. He liked better to be nursed by his ma than his daddy; for when Lotty would say to Ben, 'Here, papa, you take Norlans for a bit,' the mite would roll those marvellous eyes of his round at the rough boy, then back pleadingly towards the gipsy lass's face; and if she said, 'Well, well, then, he sha'n't be taken by daddy,' he would nestle closer to Lotty, and soon be fast asleep. As Ben said, he could do with bucketfuls of sleep.
With fur four inches deep, one wouldn't have thought Norlans could have felt cold at night; but he was not averse, nevertheless, to be put to bed in his small tub rolled up in a red blanket. Then Lotty would sit down on a footstool beside him, and sing a cradle-song till he dropped off into 'little sweet snores' as she called them, and he never stirred till morning. Was he not, therefore, the best baby that ever lived?