CHAPTER XXXII
In Which Seals are Sighted and Archie Armstrong has a Narrow Chance in the Crow's-Nest.
AT peep o' dawn the Dictator made the Groais Island sealing grounds. The day broke late and dull. The sky was a dead gray, hanging heavily over a dark, fretful sea; and there was a threat of wind and snow in the air.
"Ice, sir!" said the mate, poking his head into the captain's cabin, his ceremony lost in his elation.
"Take her 'longside," cried the captain, jumping out of his berth. "What's it like?"
"Looks like a big field o' seal ice, sir."
"Hear that, b'y?" the captain shouted to Archie, who was sitting up in his berth, still rubbing his eyes. "A field o' ice! There'll be a hunt t'-day. Mr. Ackell, tell the cook t' send the breakfast up here. What's the weather?"
"Promisin' thick, sir."
When the captain and the boy went on deck, the ice was in plain sight—many vast fields, rising over the horizon continually, so that there seemed to be no end to it. From the crow's-nest it had been reported to the mate, who reported to the captain, that the spars of a three-masted ship were visible, and that the vessel was apparently lying near the ice. That was considered bad news—and worse news yet, when it was reported from the crow's-nest that she was flying the house-flag of Alexander Bryan & Company, the only considerable rival of the firm of Armstrong and Son.