“Five or six, I think,” said Willy.
“Well, hand them to me, and I’ll put a stop to their crawling propensities. They would frighten the ladies if they were to make their way into the cabin.”
The doctor had got out his knife, and was engaged in scientifically depriving the creatures of life. This done, they were stowed away in the stern-sheets.
“A covey of flying-fish would have been more acceptable,” observed the doctor, as he again composed himself to rest; “but they are not to be found in these latitudes.”
Two or three people, awakened by the doctor’s voice, inquired what was the matter.
“Only a few squids come on board to be cooked for breakfast,” answered Willy. Those who had spoken, satisfied with the reply, were quickly again asleep.
Silence once more reigned on board, broken only by the snores of the sleepers, though the blowing of whales or other cetacea could be heard every now and then, now in the distance, now somewhat nearer; and Willy hoped that in the morning they might be successful in catching some of the smaller ones, and obtain a supply of oil. Some time thus passed away; the first watch was nearly over, when he was startled by hearing a loud hail astern. Unwilling to awaken the ladies, he refrained from replying. He could just then distinguish the splash of oars; and straining his eyes through the darkness, he at last made out a boat approaching. He had no doubt she was the cutter, and he hoped to receive good tidings of those on board. As she drew near, he heard every now and then a strange wild shout, and several persons speaking. At length the boat came close up under the stern of the launch.
“Is that the cutter of His Majesty’s ship ‘Ranger?’” asked Willy.
“Ay, ay,” answered a voice, which he knew to be that of Roger Bollard, the boatswain.
“Why, Mr Bollard, what is the matter?” he inquired.