Nat Cobb’s boat’s crew were Norwegians every one of them, short, somewhat squat, fair-haired fellows, but as active and bustling as a corresponding number of well-bred fox-terriers. A couple of them were moving on ahead now, with an immense basket between them.
“That’s the dinner,” said the Little Wonder; “and you’ll find there’s enough for all hands, too.”
“Well, gentlemen,” Nat said, when everybody had done justice to the good things placed before them, “let us drink each other’s healths in a cup of fragrant mocha, for that’s the wine for Greenland weather. Gentlemen, I look around me at your smiling faces, and I pledge you and bid you welcome to my island of Jan Mayen.”
“Hallo!” thought Rory, “your island.”
“Yes, gentlemen,” continued Nat, looking as if he really read Rory’s thoughts, “my island. Six months and more ago I annexed it, and to-morrow once again the stars and stripes will proudly flutter from yonder flagstaff, and the bird o’ freedom will soar over this wild mountain land.”
Apart from his queer, half-boastful speech, Nat Cobb was a very agreeable companion.
He was very frank at all events.
After looking at Rory for the space of half a minute, he suddenly stretched out his hand.
“I like you,” he said, “muchly, and I like you all. It is from men like you that the mightiest republic in the world has been built. But why don’t you speak more, Rory, as your messmates call you?”
“Ach! troth?” said Rory, “and sure I’m driving tandem with the thinking.”