After this the great toboggan slide was in daily request, and the sound that came from the big berg was like the roaring of stones on a Scottish curling pond.
But high above the rushing noise, came the shouting and laughter of the merry-makers.
Poor Viking could not understand it, and I suppose he came to the conclusion that his human friends had all lost hold of the tiny supply of common-sense, which human beings can boast of.
But what with these games and dances, and then fun on board, the health of the crew continued excellent, though ever around the galley-fire at night (I mean before bed-time or at the tea hour) the men talked of home.
I myself, like most seafarers,--well, call us sailors if that sounds better,--dearly love
"A life on the ocean wave
And a home on the rolling deep,
Where the scattered waters rave
And the winds their revels keep".
Yet wherever in this world I have been there always seemed to be a magnetic needle in my heart, and it always pointed to Home.
"Where'er we roam, whatever lands we see
Our hearts untramelled fondly turn to thee
* * * * *
Such is the patriot's boast; where'er we roam,
Our first, best country, ever is at home."
On the whole, during their long imprisonment, the officers and crew of the good barque Flora M'Vayne kept up their hearts.
At long last the sun came nearer and nearer the northern horizon. For days before he rose there was a twilight of about two hours. Then a galaxy of the loveliest clouds were lit up, but still no sun.