Our heroes crowd around him.
“Why,” they say, “you are a perfect stranger; it is a whole week since we’ve seen you.”
“Ay,” says Silas, “and a whole week without seeing a seal—isn’t it astonishing?”
“Ah! but they’re in sight now,” says McBain. “I’m going to take the ice, and I’ll tow you in, and if you’re not a bumper ship before a week, then this isn’t the Arrandoon, that’s all.”
Silas is all smiles; he rubs his hands, and finally laughs outright, then he claps his hand on his leg, and,—
“I was sure of it,” says Silas, “soon as ever I saw your signal. ‘Matie,’ says I, ‘yonder is a signal from the Arrandoon. I’m wanted on board; seals is in sight, ye maybe sure. Matie,’ says I, ‘luck’s turned again;’ and with that I gives him such a dig in the ribs that he nearly jumped out of the nest.”
“Make the signal to the Scotia, Stevenson,” says McBain, “to clew up, and to get all ready for being taken in tow. Come below, Captain Grig, lunch is on the table.”
Fairly seated at the table, honest Silas rubbed his hands again and looked with a delighted smile at each of his friends in turn. There was a bluff heartiness about this old sailor which was very taking.
“I declare,” he said, “I feel just like a schoolboy home for a holiday?”
Rory and Silas were specially friendly.