As the penguins mustered their forces, each day seeing some fresh arrivals to fight for the occupation of the rookery, they were a constant source of amusement to the snow-bound party, who, not being able to stir far from the doorway of the “castle,” had nothing hardly to occupy their attention save the movements of the birds.
The penguins, they observed, were of four different classes or varieties, although all belonged to the same family, partaking of the common characteristics of such; but, even as they differed in size and appearance, so they presented diverse modes of conducting their domestic arrangements and varied in their habits.
Some were of the most retiring nature. These, isolating themselves in a separate encampment, drew a strong line of demarcation between the abode of their neighbours and their own retreat, as if they were of too exclusive a temper to associate with the common herd; while others, of quite a different species, appeared to have no false pride which prevented them from associating with the rest, of whatever class they might belong to, for they were “hail fellow well met” almost on their arrival with every bird in the rookery.
“Them’s republicans, I guess,” said Mr Lathrope, noticing this trait of character. “They don’t care a cuss for social distinctions!”
Mr Meldrum, having had some previous acquaintance of the penguin family when on board a ship which had been employed in surveying duties in the Straits of Magellan and round the Falkland Islands, was able to give the others a good deal of information about the birds.
There were four varieties, he said, on Kerguelen Land, as far as he could see, namely:— the “king penguin,” the aristocrat of the community, who kept aloof from the rest; a black-and-white species that whaling men call the “johnny;” a third, styled the “macaroni penguin,” which had a handsome double tuft of rich orange-coloured feathers on their heads; and a fourth variety, distinct from the last-mentioned only from its smaller size, and the fact of its plume or crest being single instead of double, and of a pale sulphur yellow in lieu of orange.
Amongst the penguins, too, were to be seen numbers of little sheathbills—just like small bantams, similar to the specimen Frank Harness had shot, and which he was so sorry about. The little birds went about in pairs and appeared to act as the scavengers of the larger ones, for they haunted their breeding-places, scraping about the nests and dung, clearing out the rotten eggs, and making free with the insects that properly appertained to the penguins. Indeed, they were impudent enough sometimes to seize upon the freshly-laid egg that some lady macaroni had laid, right under the eyes of its owner, feloniously appropriating it to their own use; while they thought nothing of giving an occasional peck to one of the king penguins if he got in their way, regardless of his exalted position!
Flocks of shags, or cormorants, also visited the bay at the same time. These were found good eating, although not so fleshy as the penguins; and, before the end of the month, there came a large family of seals, which would probably have taken up their abode in the creek had not some of the sailors frightened them away so effectually by their indiscriminate slaughter that they never returned, nor did any others come subsequently to the place.
The coats of these seals were of a fine iron-grey hue, something like that of an otter, only with much more delicate hair. Mr Meldrum was very anxious to secure as many of them as was possible, so he was much chagrined when they disappeared and left him fur-less.
Another visitor was the pretty little Cape pigeon, which Kate recognised as an old friend and was delighted to see. It reminded her, she told Frank, of “old times,” when they grew acquainted with each other on board the Nancy Bell and watched the stars at night—and all the rest of it!