In his hands La Salle waved the banner attached to the boat-hook, which had marked the deserted heaps of seal-skins. But it needed not: the pilot rang his bell, and the sealer became motionless in the centre of the pool. As they came alongside, a stout, full-bearded man, in a Guernsey frock, threw them a rope, and hailed the strange little craft:--
"What, do'ee want, friends, and where do'ee hail from?"
"We are sportsmen, carried off, by the ice, in the straits, eleven days ago. We want food, and a passage home, for which we will pay."
"Well, if ivir I heerd of de like of dat! Come aboord, my men. De captain's sick, but dere's plinty to ate here, and ye won't mind close quarters, after your vige on de ice."
"No, indeed, sir!" said La Salle. "Tumble up, my men. Take your guns and your coats with you. Here, Nep; up that ladder, sir. That's right. Can you take our boat aboard?"
"Come right up, sur; dere's no fear of her. I'll have her aboord in tin minutes. Here comes de mate. What's your name, sur? La Salle? Yis, sur! Mister Blake, sur; Mister La Salle, sur."
"Happy to see you, Mr. La Salle. I've learnt enough about you to know that you have been adrift nearly two weeks, and as dinner's ready we must have you into the cabin. I am sorry that but one berth is vacant, and your friends will have to take their chance in the forecastle."
"If you please, I had rather have you extend your courtesy to Mr. George Waring, a son of Mr. Albert Waring, of C., who does a large business with your St. John's fishing firms. He has been the only one of us who has been sick, and--"
"There, Mr. Blake," interposed Waring, "don't listen to him; take him with you. Why, I am as strong as an ox now, and you'll find him far better company than I am."
Passing aft through gangways crowded with brawny, hardy-looking sealers, La Salle followed his conductor to the cabin, where he found six or eight men gathered around a table plentifully supplied with the usual provisions found on board ships in the merchant service. After being introduced to all present, who greeted him with a rude civility, Mr. Blake invited him to "fall to and help himself."
It is needless to say that he required no pressing in this direction. "Hard tack" and "salt horse," with potatoes, soft bread, and chicory coffee sweetened with molasses, seemed food fit for the gods, after the greasy meat-diet of the last eleven days; and his companions considerately refrained from questioning him until his hunger was satisfied. At last he drew back his chair, lit a cigar offered him by one of the officers, and turning to the mate said, laughingly,--