“We must wait patiently,” resumed the captain, as if he were tired of following up a fruitless train of thought. “What of your theatricals, Fred? we must get them set a-going as soon as possible.”
The captain spoke animatedly, for he felt that, with the prospect of a long dark winter before them, it was of the greatest importance that the spirits of the men should be kept up.
“I find it difficult to beat up recruits,” answered Fred, laughing; “Peter Grim has flatly refused to act, and O’Riley says he could no more learn a part off by heart than—”
“His grandmother’s pig could,” interrupted David Mizzle, who, having concluded supper, now felt himself free to indulge in conversation.
“Och! ye spalpeen,” whispered the Irishman.
“I have written out the half of a play which I hope to produce in a few days on the boards of our Arctic theatre with a talented company, but I must have one or two more men—one to act the part of a lady. Will you take that part, Buzzby?”
“Wot! me?” cried the individual referred to with a stare of amazement.
“Oh yes! do, Buzzby,” cried several of the men with great delight. “You’re just cut out for it.”
“Blue eyes,” said one.
“Fair hair,” cried another.