"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.

"Oh, well," said the captain, making the best of it in a generous way, "there'll be 25,000 seals in that pack, an' out o' that we ought t' bag enough t' pay both of us for the day's work."

Archie caught sight of Billy Topsail, who was standing on the forward deck, gazing wistfully at him; so he went forward, and the two found much to say to each other, while the ship made for the ice under full steam. They fought the fight with the dog hood over again; and when Billy had acknowledged a debt to Archie's quick thought, and Archie had repudiated it with some heat, they agreed that the old seal had been a mighty fellow, and a game one, deserving his escape from continued attack. Then they abandoned the subject.

"Pretty hard work on the ice," Archie observed, sagely.

"Sure!" Billy exclaimed; for that had been clear to him all his life. "'Tis fearful dangerous, too. When my father was young, he was to the ice in a schooner, an' they got caught with the fleet in raftin' ice[7] offshore, up Englee way. He saw six schooners nipped; an' they were all crushed like an egg, an' went down when the ice went abroad. His was the only one o' all the fleet that stood the crush."

"Think you'll share with the crew, Billy?"

"I want to," Billy said with a laugh. Then, soberly: "I want to, for I want t' get a skiff for lobster-fishin' in New Bay. They's lots o' lobsters there, an' they's no one trappin' down that way. 'Tis a great chance," with a sigh.

The captain beckoned Archie to the upper deck. "Tell me, now," he said, when the boy reached his side, "can you go aloft?"

"Yes," Archie answered, laughing scornfully. "I'm no landsman!"

"True word, if you're son of your father! Then get up with the bar'l man, an' take a trick at swatchin'. 'Tis cold work, but great sport."

"Swatching" is merely the convenient form for "seal watching." It appeared to Archie that to swatch with the barrel man must be a highly diverting occupation. He was not slow to mount the rope ladder to the masthead, and slip into the cask with the swatcher, who chanced to be Bill o' Burnt Bay and vociferously made him welcome.

"See anything yet?" asked the boy.

"I'll show you them swiles (seals) in a minute or two," Bill replied confidently.

Archie was closely muffled in wool and fur; but the wind, which was bitter and blowing hard, searched out the unprotected places, and in five minutes he was crouching in the cask for shelter, only too glad to find an excuse in the swatcher's advice.

"H-h-h-how l-l-long you been h-h-here?" he chattered.

"Sure, b'y," said Bill, with no suspicion of a shiver in his voice, "'tis goin' on two hours, now."

"P-p-pretty cold, i-i-isn't it?"

Bill o' Burnt Bay did not reply. His eye was glued to the telescope, which fairly shook in his hands. Then he leaned over the rim of the cask, altogether disregarding its instability.

"Seals ho!" he roared.

A cheer went up. Looking down, Archie saw the men swarming to the deck.

"Take a look at them harps, b'y," said Bill, excitedly. "No! Starboard the glass. There! See them?"

Archie made out a myriad of moving specks—black dots, small and great, shifting about over a broad white surface. They were like many insects. He saw Alexander Bryan & Company's vessel, too; and it appeared to him that the men were just landing on the ice to attack the pack.

"That's the Lucky Star," Bill explained. "She's a smaller ship than we, an' she've got about a hundred men, I s'pose. Never fear, lad, we'll be up in time t' get our share o' the swiles."

"I-I-I-I g-g-guess I'll g-g-go down, now," said Archie.

Half an hour of exposure in the crow's-nest had chilled the lad to numbness. His blood was running sluggishly; he was shivering; his legs were stiff, and his hands were cold and uncertain in their grip. He climbed out of the cask, and cleverly enough made good his footing on the platform of the nest. It was when he essayed the descent that he erred and faltered.

He had a full, two-handed grip on the topmast backstays, and was secure in searching with his foot for the rope ladder lashed thereto. But when his foot struck, he released his left hand from the stays, without pausing to make sure that his foot was firm-fixed on the rung. His foot missed the rung altogether, and found no place to rest. In a flash, he had rolled over, and hung suspended by one hand, which, numb though it was, had unexpectedly to bear the weight of his whole body.

"Be careful goin' down, b'y," he heard Bill o' Burnt Bay say.

The voice seemed to come out of a great distance. Archie knew, in a dim way, that the attention of the man was fixed elsewhere—doubtless on the herd of harps. Then he fell into a stupefaction of terror. It seemed to him, in his panic, that Bill would never discover his situation; that he must hang there, with his grip loosening, instant by instant—until he fell.

He was speechless, incapable of action, when, by chance, Bill o' Burnt Bay looked down. The sealer quietly reached over the cask and caught him by the collar; then lifted him to the platform, and there held him fast. Each looked silently, tensely, into the other's eyes.

"'Tis a cold day," said Bill, dryly.

Archie gasped.

"Tough on tender hands, b'y," said Bill.

"Yes," gasped the lad, in a hoarse whisper.

There was a long silence, through which the swatcher looked Archie in the eye, holding him tight all the while.

"'Tis not wise t' be in a hurry, sometimes," he observed, at last.

The boy waited until he could view the necessity of descent with composure. Then, with extreme caution, he made his way to the deck, and went to the cabin, where he warmed himself over the stove. Apparently, the incident had passed unnoticed from the deck. He said nothing about it to the captain, nor to any one else; nor did Bill o' Burnt Bay, who had an adequate conception of the sensitiveness of lads in respect to such narrow chances.

[7] A floe of pans so forcibly driven by the wind as to be crowded into layers.