There was no more word about ghosts now, and the kind professor forgave the Finlander. He was set free and sent to duty, and now for weeks and weeks there wasn't a much happier vessel afloat than the brave ship Valhalla bound for the Frozen North.
The two dogs became great friends, but, strangely enough, both disliked Broomberg, and kept out of his way whenever they could. Once, indeed, when the man bent down to stroke Veevee, Briton stood guard over his little friend and growled.
"Hands off!" the mastiff seemed to say, "hands off till we know more about you!"
Of course Uncle was chief favourite with the children, but all the three of them came to like the little professor very much indeed. He was with them nearly all day long. Tom was usually very busy; so, too, was Uncle Staysail; and though it must not be thought that Pete was an idle man, for he had much to study, still he always found time to romp and play with Aralia, Pansy, and the two dogs.
Though the weather grew colder for a time, it was all one long, long summer's day. For in the Arctic regions the sun never sets for at least three months, but just goes round and round, blazing high in the south at mid-day, and lower in the north at midnight. Indeed, in these seas, if you were not to look at the clock, you could not really tell whether it was night or day.
Every evening now the little party gathered round the large stove, on which a copper urn of coffee was always gently simmering. Then the professor told his strangest stories, with perhaps Pansy on his knee, and Aralia lying on the hearth-rug with the dogs. Most of his yarns were about the Frozen North, its dangers and perils, its joys and pleasures.
"And shall we see all these strange sights?" Pansy used to ask.
"Yes, dear, and many more than these, because I mean to give you a treat if you are good and don't get your fingers frozen."
One day great lumps of white snow-clad ice came floating by, and that same evening the crow's-nest was hoisted high, high up at the very top of the main-mast. The crow's-nest was like a big barrel with a lid at the bottom, Pansy said, and Tom, or the mate, used to climb and crawl through the bottom, and stand, spy-glass in hand, and look all about them.