[CHAPTER XIII]
THE FIRST SEAL-HUNT
For an hour or more Phil Ryder sat in the stern of the boat, alternately bailing, shouting, and casting hopeful glances at the schooner’s rail every few moments in the full expectation of seeing some one who would relieve him from his unpleasant position. During this time he was painfully conscious of a most vigorous appetite, that was whetted by occasional tantalizing whiffs that came floating back to him from the galley. At length he began to believe that by some strange oversight he must have been forgotten, and that if anything was done to relieve the situation he must do it himself. He thought that if he could only haul his boat up close under the stern of the schooner he might be able to climb up the rope, and so gain her deck. As no other plan offered, he proceeded to put this one into execution, and stepping forward into the bow of the boat, without regard to the increase of water that this movement caused to flow in through the plug-hole, he seized the rope and began to pull with all his might. The instant the stern was raised and the bow lowered by this transfer of weight the boat sheered wildly to one side. Then she was brought back with a sudden jerk that very nearly capsized her, and immediately made a furious rush in the opposite direction, until her bow was so nearly dragged under that to save himself and restore the former state of affairs Phil was compelled once more to spring aft. His sole plan for escape had resulted in dismal failure, and so much water had entered the boat during the experiment that to keep her from swamping he had need to bail furiously for another hour. At the end of that time he had once more got the better of the exasperating leak, so that he could rest for a few minutes. Then he must fall to bailing again. So in resting and bailing by turns the long afternoon hours were slowly worn away. The poor lad was faint from hunger, cold, wet, and furious at the supposed carelessness that had left him in such an unpleasant, not to say dangerous, position.
It was not until nearly sunset that the welcome sound of a voice came to his ears. Looking up, he saw Ebenezer’s black face peeping over the rail, and heard him announce, “Suppah, sah!”
“Haul in on the painter, you grinning idiot!” shouted Phil, whereupon the negro placed his hand to his ear and called back: “Yes, sah. Suppah!”
“Oh, what an old stupid!” groaned Phil, sinking back despairingly in the stern of the boat. “I may stay here until I starve or drown for all the help he’ll give me.”
Just then came another shout, and a new hope sprang into the breast of the despairing lad as he saw the lank but powerful frame of Jalap Coombs rising above the rail, and felt that his boat was being drawn towards the schooner. When it was at length pulled up as close as possible the mate shouted:
“Now, lad, make a climb for it hand over hand, and I’ll stand by to give ye a h’ist when ye get within reach.”
A minute later Phil stood safe and sound on the Seamew’s deck, but so angry that he broke out at once with: