"Ah, my beauty, I'll astonish Professor Tapper with you when I get home," he said; "you are worthy to be ranked with the fur-bearing South Polar pollywog. I will feed you till your feathers shine and you are the envied of all birds. I am the most fortunate man in the world."
All hands enjoyed a hearty laugh as, on the return to the ship, their adventures were narrated.
"The poor professor never seems to go out but what he gets into some pickle or other," laughed Captain Barrington, who was joined in his merriment by Captain Hazzard. "But, dear me," he went on, "where is the professor?"
They ran out on deck and found the man of science seated in the boat, which had not yet been hauled up, as the vessels were not to weigh anchor till the next day,—the berth where they lay being a snug one.
"Why don't you come on board, professor?" asked Captain Hazzard, indicating the accommodation ladder, which had been lowered.
"I-I'd like to, but I can't," responded the professor.
"You can't? Why, what on earth do you mean? You'll freeze to death down there," roared Captain Barrington.
"I wish you'd send down a small stove," wailed the scientist.
"A small stove; why, what do you want with that?"
"Why the fact is, I'm sozzen to the feet—I mean frozen to the seat, and if you can't send down a stove, send down another pair of trousers!" was the calm reply.