“When can you start, my dear Silas?”
“To-night. At once. Give me a fresh horse and five minutes for a mouthful of refreshment, and off I start; and I’ll take command to-morrow before the sun is over the foreyard.”
“To-night?” cried Mr Leigh, smiling. “No, no, no.”
“But I say ‘yo, yo, yo,’” said Silas, “and ‘yo heave, O,’ and what Silas says he means. There! Ah, ladies, how are you? Nay, never cry, Miss McGregor. I’m going straight away to the Arctic Sea, and I’m sure to bring your brother back, and Rory as well, to say nothing of honest Ralph and Peter the piper. So cheer ye up, my little lass, If Silas Grig doesn’t come back in company with the bonnie Arrandoon, may he never chew cheese again!”
There was no getting over the impetuosity of this honest old sailor, but there was withal a freshness and happiness about him, which made every one he talked with feel as hopeful as he was himself. Before dinner was done both Mrs McGregor and her lovely daughter were smiling and laughing as they had not smiled or laughed for months before, and when Silas asked for a song, the latter went quite joyfully to the harp.
You see it appeared quite a foregone conclusion with everybody that night, that Silas would find the lost explorers and bring them safely home.
The moon rose in all its majesty as nine tolled forth from the clock-tower of the ancient castle. Then Silas said “good-bye,” and, followed by many a blessing and many a prayer, the dogcart wound away up through the solemn pine forest, and was soon lost to view.
He was just as good as his word. He took command of his new ship—a splendid sea-going yacht—before noon next day. Almost immediately afterwards he summoned both officers and men and mustered them all aft, and somewhat startled them by the following curt speech: “Gentlemen and men of the Polar Star, we’ll sail to-morrow morning. We touch nowhere until we enter harbour here again. Any one that isn’t ready to go can step on shore and stop there. All ready, eh? Bravo, men! You’ll find your skipper isn’t a bad fellow to deal with, but he means to crack on! No ship that ever sailed ’twixt Pekin and London, no clipper that ever left Aberdeen, or yacht from New York city, ever did such cracking on as I mean to do. Go to your duty. Pipe down.”
Then Silas Grig inspected the ship. He was pleased with her get-up and her rig-out, only he ordered extra spars and extra sails, and these were all on board ere sundown.
“The old man means business,” said the first mate to the second.