In the great white land

by Gordon Stables

These scraps of conversation are but specimens of those heard on board the good Sea Elephant, fore and aft, when the Walrus people boarded her at Kerguelen, after dropping anchor in a natural rock-girt harbour of that Isle of Desolation.

Captain Mayne Brace was himself in charge of the whaler which had brought them here, with Ingomar and Charlie; and now they were below in the sister-ship’s cosy saloon, and for a whole hour the conversation never lagged nor flagged.

Everybody was just as jolly as jolly could be, and Dr. Wright had scarcely a case on the sick-list worth talking about.

True that in hoisting the crow’s-nest a rope which had been dried at the galley-fire, and was somewhat scorched in one place, had snapped. The crow’s-nest was hurled to the deck again, but only one man had been injured.

There was no work done to-day. The mariners visited each other, and gave themselves up to enjoyment. When the music from a merry little string band was not sounding from the ’tween decks of the Sea Elephant, you could hear it distinctly enough swelling over the water from another merry little string band on board of the Walrus, and hear the shouting, and even the laughter, of the crew as well.

Now and then came the coughing roar of the great bears or the shrill but joyful barking of the dogs. Gruff couldn’t understand why he and his wife were not permitted to join the dancers on deck. But this might have been somewhat awkward for the sailors of the Elephant who were visiting the Walrus, for though King Gruff knew every one of his own crew, from the captain down to the ship’s cat, he might have treated strangers a trifle roughly. Those who have had the pleasure or pain of waltzing with a Polar bear on the Arctic ice, have been heard to admit afterwards that it is possible to find a much more gentle partner.

This first evening or night—for the days were now long and bright—was one that the crews of those barques would remember long after this under far more dreary circumstances.

But the letters? Ah, yes; a swift mail steamer had brought those to the capital of Mauritius Isle, and now they were handed over to the officers and crew of the Walrus. They nearly all brought joy and comfort.

Charlie’s and Walt’s were especially nice, and the same may be said of Ingomar’s letter from his father and sister.

The young fellow had written weeks before he had left England, and here were the answers. The sister’s letter was sweet, as sisters’ letters seem always to be; and the father’s—well, his son could read between the lines, and he felt certain that there had been tears in the good but proud old man’s eyes as he penned the following lines: “You are a brave boy, Hans. You are a true Armstrong, and it is just possible I may have been a trifle harsh to you. I would rather, however, you had not gone away, especially to the wild and treacherous seas around the Antarctic Pole. Come back to me, boy—I say come back to me, because I feel certain you will with honour. Come back to your sister and mother.”