[“EVERY TIME HE ATTEMPTED TO RISE THEY PROMPTLY KNOCKED HIM DOWN”]
It was fortunate that our friends appeared on the scene when they did; for the victim of this awkward predicament might have been kept there until utterly exhausted if they had not. As it was, they succeeded in so distracting the attention of the savage monsters that he effected an escape. His camera was ruined, and he was filled with wrath, not only against the seals, but against those who had witnessed his ignominious position. In particular was he wroth against poor Phil, probably because he of the three rescuers was least able to restrain his laughter. With each new mental picture of the situation he roared afresh until the tears streamed from his eyes. “Hang that fellow!” muttered Mr. Ramey to himself. “He’s altogether too fresh! But I’ll find some way to cause him to laugh from the other side of his mouth—see if I don’t!”
[CHAPTER XXXI]
WHERE IS THE CENTRE OF THE UNITED STATES?
The more Mr. Ramey reflected upon his recent ridiculous adventure, the more determined he became to keep its history from reaching the ears of his shipmates on board the Phoca, if such a thing were possible. He knew that if it once got into the wardroom he would never hear the last of it, for nothing more pleases a wardroom mess than a good joke at the expense of one of its members. The story is told and retold with such humorous additions as may suggest themselves from time to time. It is treasured up to be related through coming years in many different wardrooms until, unless its victim is sensible and good-natured, it weighs upon him like a chronic nightmare, and causes him much unhappiness. Fortunately, most wardroom men have had both these qualities thoroughly rubbed into them by a four-years’ course of vigorous polishing at Annapolis, and so are in a condition to laugh as heartily over a good story at their own expense as at any other. Unfortunately, in the present case, Mr. Ramey was not an Annapolis man, and had not yet learned to take such things good-naturedly. Then, too, as he was very fond of jokes at the expense of others, he realized how bitter and nauseous the dose would be made for him. Therefore, he mentally vowed that, if he could compass it, neither Philip Ryder nor Serge Belcofsky should again set foot on the deck of the good ship Phoca. To this end he began to scheme, even while they were brushing the dirt of the rookery from his uniform, and from the very first fortune seemed to favor him.
“I wouldn’t mention this if I were you,” he said in a low tone to the lads, “until we are once more aboard ship and away from the island, because there is such a strong feeling here against any one who disturbs a rookery that it might get me into trouble. Of course it is too good a yarn to withhold from the wardroom, but it will be all the better for being kept a few days.”
“All right,” replied Phil, striving politely to smother his laughter; “we won’t speak of it on the island.” At the same time the lad smiled to think how he should enjoy telling it to Miss May, and how heartily that appreciative daughter of the sea would laugh over it.
Captain Matthews dined ashore with the company’s agent that day, while Mr. Ramey and our lads had accepted an invitation from the government inspector, under whose hospitable roof the latter were also to spend the night.
During the meal, at which, in honor of the guests, were served all the delicacies of the islands, Phil paid particular attention to a large omelette, a dish of which he was very fond. As he had seen no fowls about the village, he inquired of his host where he kept his hens.