“Perhaps not, but it has got a tail, that’s a fact,” said Baker, in a voice of surprise. “Who ever heard of a dark, four-cornered star with a tail? If I had seen it in daylight, and in Merry England, I would have said it was a kite!”
“A kite! nonsense,” cried the captain; “what in the world can it be?”
Reader, you shall find that out in the next chapter.
Chapter Ten.
The Tale of a Kite—A Great Bear-Fight.
When Mr Mansell was left in charge of the brig a heavy weight lay on his heart, and he could by no means take part in the preparations for the theatricals which occupied the rest of the crew. He felt that life or death depended on the success of the captain in his search for fresh meat. Already most of the men were ill with scurvy, and some of them were alarmingly low. Nothing could save them but fresh meat, and when the first mate thought of the difficulties and dangers of a journey on the floes in such weather, and the uncertainty of the Eskimos being discovered, his heart misgave him.
About an hour after the departure of Captain Harvey on the Monday morning he took Davy Butts aside.
“Davy,” said he, “you’ve been at work on these kites a long time. Are they nearly finished?”