“More hands, Ap?” exclaimed McBain.
“Ay, sir, ay; look you see,” replied Ap, “you told me to hurry on, you see, and on Monday we shall want to begin the saloon bulkheads.”
“Bravo! Ap, bravo! come to my office to-night at seven, and we’ll put that all straight.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Ap, touching his hat and retiring.
Ralph Leigh was owner of the splendid composite steamship that was now fast nearing her completion.
She was not being built by contract, but privately, and McBain was head controller of every department, and for every department he had hired experts to carry on the work. The vessel was designed for special service, and therefore she must be a vessel of purity, a vessel of strength. There must not be a flaw in her, not a patch—all must be solid, all must be good. McBain had hired experts to examine everything ere it was purchased, but he made use of his own eyes and ears as well. The yard in which the ship was built was rented, and every bit of timber that entered it was tested first, whether it were oak or teak, pine, mahogany, or cedar; and the iron the same, and the bolts of copper and steel, so that Captain McBain’s work was really no sinecure.
“Well, then,” said Ralph, “I’ve been over all the ship; I’m extremely pleased with the way things are going on, so if you have nothing more to say to me I’m off. By the way, do the people still flock down on Friday afternoons to look over the ship?”
“They do,” replied McBain; “and poor old Ap, I feel sorry for him. He gets no Friday half-holiday; he won’t let me stop, but he insists upon remaining himself to show the people round.”
“And the people enjoy it?”
“They do. They marvel at our engines, as well they may. The gear, so simple and strong, that Ap and I invented for the shipping and unshipping of the rudder, and the easy method we have for elevating the screw out of the water and reducing the vessel to a sailing ship, they think little short of miraculous. They are astonished, too, at the extraordinary strength of build of the ship. Indeed, they are highly complimentary to us in their general admiration. But,” continued McBain, laughing aloud, “it would amuse you to hear the remarks of some of these good, innocent souls. The two 12-pounder Dalgrens are universal favourites. They pat them as if they loved them. One girl last Friday said ‘they just looked for a’ the warld like a couple o’ big iron soda-water bottles.’ They linger in the armoury; old Ap shows them our ‘express’ rifles, and our ‘bone-crushers,’ and the hardened and explosive bullets: then he takes them to the harpoon-room and shows them the harpoons, and the guns, and the electric apparatus, and all the other gear. They stare open-mouthed at the balloon-room and the sledge-lockers, but when they come to the door of the torpedo-chamber they simply hurry past with looks of awe. It is currently reported that we are bound for the very North Pole itself; I’m not sure we are not going to bring it back home with us. Anyhow, they say that as soon as we reach the ice, we are to fill our balloons, attaching one to each mast and funnel, and float away and away over the sea of ancient ice until we reach the Pole.”