Charley's eyes twinkled as he held out the knife, but Appleby broke in, "I fancy you had better wait a little," he said. "There are sea otters, Stickine?"
Stickine laughed a little. "They're getting scarce, and it takes a rich man to buy one now. If I had a few of them and silver foxes I would not go to sea. No, sir, I'd sit still ashore telling yarns in luxury. You're still open to make the deal?"
Niven saw that the eyes of all of them were upon him. "Of course!" he said. "I've made the offer, and I've been an ass again. Give me the knife, Charley."
Then somewhat to his astonishment the sealer slipped the knife back into its sheath, and Donegal thumped him on the back. "'Tis the makings av a man ye have in ye," he said. "A little sense is all ye need, but 'tis very hard to teach it ye."
Niven was not sorry that one of the others asked a question about the mast, and he was allowed to finish his breakfast in silence. Before it was over he heard a rattle of blocks, and when he went up on deck the Champlain was heading towards the east. Some time had passed, however, before she reached an anchorage under a rocky island hemmed in by smoking reefs. It was not an inspiriting place, and when they crept slowly in under shortened sail with the long swell heaving after them and the Indian standing impassive as a bronze statue at the wheel, the lads felt its desolation. There was no sign of life on the low shore that showed up dimly through the mist and rain. The grey rocks ran water, and the whiteness of the surf that seethed upon the beaches of rattling pebbles was the only brightness in all the sombre colouring. Here and there to seaward a stony barrier hove its black fangs out of the spouting foam and the growl of the sea rose from every side.
Still, they had little time to contemplate the dreary picture, for the cable had scarcely rattled out when the work commenced. The swell worked into the anchorage, and the schooner rolled with it lazily, but one of the big masts that swayed above her must be lifted out, and that was an operation usually accomplished in smooth water by the help of two great poles raised on end and lashed so that with the mast they formed a tripod. Jordan, however, had only his mainboom, and a few other very small spars to make them with, and while the others helped him Montreal spent the rest of the day lashing them together and wedging the fastenings before he fancied he could trust them to lift the heavy mast. It rained all the time.
Even then he appeared to have misgivings, and the light was growing dim before they had jammed one end of them fast and hove the other up with the end of the mainboom lashed to it. Then he and Jordan talked for some time together, and the men went below to rest and wait for morning. They were all of them tired, for the rolling of the vessel had rendered the task of getting the big spars on end and fastening them a very arduous one, and the two lads, who had done what they could among the rest, were aching in every limb. When they had stripped off their wet clothes they were glad to crawl into their bunks and lie there almost too tired and drowsy to ask any questions of the men who sat smoking below. Still, it took a good deal to overcome Niven's curiosity, and presently he reached out and tapped Montreal on the shoulder.
"Once or twice I fancied the whole affair was coming down on us," he said. "Can you lift the mast with it to-morrow?"
Montreal grinned. "Well," he said dryly, "I don't quite know, but I guess I can. Isn't that the kind of thing you could leave to me and Jordan?"
"Oh, yes, but I am a little curious. You see, I might be under it," said Niven. "What's going to happen if you make a mess of it?"