Old Cap’n Pem was seated on the stringpiece of the wharf, his short black pipe gripped firmly in his mouth, and his wooden leg stretched stiffly before him like the stubby bowsprit of a coasting sloop. Beside him was his crony, Mike, another wooden-legged old mariner, for since a cruise the two had made to the Antarctic on the bark Hector, they had become inseparable companions.[1]

Although they were fast friends, they were ever chaffing each other and made it a point never to agree upon anything.

As Mike said, “Phwhat’s the use av talkin’ if yez don’t be afther arguin’? Shure an’ if yez agrees there’s not a bit more to be said.”

So, as usual, the two ancient mariners were in the midst of a discussion regarding a weather-beaten, disreputable, unkempt craft which was being towed across New Bedford harbor by a fussy little tug.

“Looks like they wuz a-comin’ to berth her here,” remarked Old Pem. “Reckon Dixon mus’ calc’late to fit the ol’ Narwhal out fer a cruise.”

Mike snorted. “B’gorra thin ’twill be a cruise to Davy Jones she’ll be afther takin’!” he exclaimed. “Shure, ’tis l’ave o’ yer sinses ye’re takin’, ye ol’ walrus! ’Tis to junk the schooner they do be towin’ av her here.”

“Walrus yerself!” retorted Cap’n Pem. “Ye’re a Irish lan’lubber if ye think the ol’ Narwhal’s only fit for junk. That there ol’ hooker’s a-goin’ for to fit out, I bet ye. An’, by heck! if she do, I’ll be blowed if I don’t ask Dixon to ship me erlong.”

Mike guffawed. “Glory be!” he cried. “An’ do yez be afther thinkin’ as Dixon’ll be fittin’ out av a floatin’ horspittle, ye ol’ cripple?”

Pem bristled. “Dern yer hide!” he roared. “If he was I’ll be sunk if he wouldn’t grab ye fust, ye peg-legged Harp. I’d——”

Cap’n Pem’s sentence was interrupted by a shout and Jim Lathrop and Tom Chester, who had been with the old whalemen on the Hector in the Antarctic, came racing towards them.

“Hurrah!” cried Tom. “That tug’s coming in here with that old brig. Say, Cap’n Pem, what do you suppose they’re going to do with her?”

“Bless ye, that ain’t no brig,” responded the old man. “That’s a torpsa’l schooner—the ol’ Narwhal. Ain’t seed her afloat fer years. Reckon Dixon’s goin’ fer to fit her out fer a cruise.”

“Cruise!” cried Jim. “Gee, you don’t mean to say any one would be crazy enough to go to sea on her! Why, the old Hector was bad enough, but she was new compared to that tub, and was big enough to hoist this boat up to her davits.”

Mike chuckled. “Glory be!” he exclaimed. “Even the b’ys is afther knowin’ ’tis no cruise she’ll be takin’. Shure, me laddies, Oi wuz just afther tellin’ Pem ’twas a-junkin’ av her they’ll be. But b’gorra, he’ll be havin’ av it his own way an’, phwat’s more, the ol’ idjit’s a-sayin’ as he’ll be afther a-tryin’ to ship along av her.”

The boys laughed. “I thought you were never going to sea again, Cap’n Pem,” cried Tom. “You said you were going to settle down ashore and buy a farm with your share of the Hector’s catch.”

“And you said only an old fool like Mr. Nye would ship a wooden-legged mate,” put in Jim. “Isn’t Mike going too to keep you company?”

“Divvil a bit!” declared Mike positively. “’Tis solid land Oi do be afther wantin’ to feel ben’ath me two feet—an’ me havin’ but wan.”

“Waall, I’ll bet ye she’s a-goin’ fer a cruise annyways,” rumbled Cap’n Pem, “an’ we’ll soon fin’ out.”

Rising, the old whaleman stumped across the dock to where the ancient craft was being moored. At his heels followed the two boys and Mike.

“Hey there, Ben!” shouted the old sailor to the captain of the tug. “What in tarnation ye bringin’ the Narwhal over here fer?”

The tug’s skipper stuck his head from the pilot house, twirled the big wheel with one hand, and jerked the bell pull with the other. “Goin’ for a cruise,” he shouted back. “Heard Dixon’s aimin’ to send her to the Arctic.”

Cap’n Pem turned triumphantly to Mike. “There ye be, ye ol’ derelic’,” he cried. “Didn’t I tell ye?”

“Faith an’ yez did thot,” admitted Mike good-naturedly. “An’ by the same token, ’tis goin’ along av her ye’ll be jus’ fer to be afther provin’ yez was right altogether.”

“Well, I’m ready to believe anything now,” declared Tom. “You remember I thought you were fooling about the Hector when you said she was fitting out, and I never dreamed we’d go on her. And she was a fine old ship! Gosh, do you remember the way she went through that blow in the south Atlantic, Jim?”

“Do I!” replied Jim enthusiastically. “And say, I shouldn’t wonder if this old Narwhal’s just as staunch a ship too, after she’s fixed up.”

“Bet ye she will be!” exclaimed Cap’n Pem. “I tol’ ye whaleships wuz built to las’ forever, and this here Narwhal ain’t so drefful ol’. Why, I can recollec’ when she wuz new. Le’s see, reckon I must ha’ been ’bout the size o’ ye, an’ she warn’t more’n twenty year ol’ then. Yep, I’ll bet she ain’t much older’n I be.”

“B’gorra, an’ that’s a-plenty,” chuckled Mike. “An’ faith, ’tis a foine pair yez do be afther makin’! Shure yes, Pem, for the love o’ Hivvin be afther shippin’ on her—’tis comp’ny yez’ll be for wan another.”

“And the captain of the tug said she was going to the Arctic!” cried Jim, paying no heed to Mike’s interruption. “Do you suppose they’re going after whales, Cap’n Pem?”

“Dunno,” replied the whaleman. “Reckon they’re goin’ fer mos’ anythin’ what they gets. Seals, walrus, furs, ile an’ bone.”

“Furs!” exclaimed Tom inquiringly. “What kind of furs do you mean?”

“Different kinds,” replied Pem. “White b’ar, fox, musk ox, reindeer, anythin’ what the Eskimos bring in or the hands on the schooner kin shoot.”

“Gosh, wouldn’t it be fun to go!” shouted Jim. “Say, Tom, I’m going to ask Dad if I can go. That is, if Cap’n Pem goes. Now we’ve been on the Hector and everything came out so well I’ll bet he’ll let me.”

“Me too!” declared Tom. “Say, that will be bully!”

“’Tis daffy yez all do be afther gettin’!” declared Mike shaking his grizzled head sadly. “Furrst ’tis ol’ timber-lig here an’ thin ’tis yez b’ys—goin’ to look afther him Oi’m thinkin’, an’ ’tis meself’ll have to be afther goin’ along to be lookin’ afther the three of yez.”

“Oh, you old fox!” cried Tom. “You know you’re just as crazy to go on another trip as any of us. You said yourself that voyage on the Hector made a man of you. And you’d never be happy ashore without Cap’n Pem.”

“Shure, Oi dunno but phwat it’s the truth yez do be afther sp’akin’, Master Tom,” agreed the Irishman grinning. “But b’gorra ’tis wan thing to be talkin’ av goin’ an’ another to be aboarrd. Shure ’tis no knowin’ as Misther Dixon’ll be afther takin’ anny av us, at all, at all.”

“Well, we’re going to find out if we can go first—before we ask him,” said Jim. “And if we can, I’ll bet we can get Mr. Dixon to take you and Cap’n Pem. Mr. Nye and Captain Edwards can put in a good word for you, and besides, everybody in New Bedford knows you’re the two best whalemen here, and real whalemen are scarce nowadays.”

“Well, ’tis havin’ av me doots Oi do be, as the Scotchman sez,” declared Mike. “Cruisin’ to the Ar’tic’s not a bit the same as cruisin’ south—phwat wid the oice an’ all.”

“Fiddlesticks!” snorted Cap’n Pem. “What do ye know erbout it? Ye ain’t no whaleman. Bet ye he’ll be right glad fer to git us. ’Tain’t so all-fired easy to git navergators these times. An’ I’ve been in the ice—why, durn it, wuzn’t I ice pilot fer the ol’ Petrel?”

“Well, I hope he will take you—both,” said Tom. “Our folks will be more likely to let us go if you two are along. When do you think the schooner’ll be ready to sail? And say, I never saw a schooner like her. She’s got yards on her foremast like a brigantine.”

“Course she has,” replied Cap’n Pem. “Thet’s what makes her a torps’l schooner. Didn’t ye never seed one afore? But shucks, ’course ye didn’t. Ain’t many on ’em knockin’ erbout nowadays. Time wuz when they wuz thicker’n rats on a lime juicer. Yessir, an’ mighty handy craf’ in the ice, I tell ye. Thet’s why Dixon’s a-fittin’ o’ the Narwhal out I ’spect. Ye see a or’nary fore-an’-aft schooner’s all right fer a-sailin’ on the wind, or when the win’s on the quarter or abeam, but she ain’t no use dead afore it, an’ ye can’t back her. An’ by glory! I’m a-tellin’ ye that when ye’re a-handlin’ of a ship in the ice, with bergs fore-an’-aft an’ to po’t an’ sta’board, an’ jes leads in the floes, ye wants a ship what kin back an’ fill an’ make steerageway st’arn fummust. Yessir, an’ the torps’l schooner’s the hooker what fills the bill. An’ as fer gettin’ ready, how can I tell? Reckon if there ain’t too pesky much to be did, she’ll be gettin’ away long ’bout the fust o’ June. Have ter fetch Hudson Straits by fust o’ August to git through safe an’ soun’.”

“Hurrah! that makes it all the better,” cried Tom. “School will be pretty near over and we could miss a few days—at the last. There’s just a lot of graduation exercises and such things. Come on, Jim, let’s go and see what our folks say.”

But the boys’ parents frowned upon the scheme at once. “That cruise in the Hector should be enough to last you boys for a lifetime,” declared Mr. Lathrop. “And a cruise to the Arctic is a very different matter. The Narwhal’s a very old and small ship, and she’ll spend the winter there probably, freeze in and take chances of being crushed. And you’d find it far from a picnic. Why, just imagine being locked hard and fast in the ice for six or eight months with the temperature fifty or sixty below zero, and shut up in the ship with a crowd of greasy whalers and Eskimos. No, Jim, there’s far too much risk.”

“Oh, hang it all!” cried Jim bitterly. “You said there’d be danger on the Hector and everything was all right, and I’d love to be in the ice all winter and see Eskimos and hunt polar bears and walrus and everything. Say, if Cap’n Pem and Mike go, can’t I go too?”

Mr. Lathrop shook his head decisively. “If the entire crew of the Hector went along, I’d not consent,” he declared. “But I’ll ask Tom’s father and see if he agrees with me.”

Mr. Chester, however, was as much against the idea as Jim’s parent. “No, Tom,” he said, after Tom had explained matters. “It would mean a year from school at least, and while I realize the knowledge you boys would obtain would be of real value, still it’s too risky a trip. You’d be frozen in for six months or more, the ship might be stove—in which case you might be killed or might be marooned in the Arctic for months or years—or she might strike a berg or a floe and founder. Arctic whaling’s dangerous, and I don’t feel sure the Narwhal is seaworthy. Besides, I don’t know who Dixon is sending as ice pilot. It’s been years since a New Bedford whaler went to the Arctic and it takes men experienced in the ice to bring the ships through safely.”

“But Cap’n Pem was an ice pilot—on the Petrel,” argued Tom. “And you have faith in him.”

Mr. Chester laughed. “Yes, as far as looking after you boys to the best of his ability and being a good whaleman is concerned. But don’t for a moment think that Dixon will ship him or Mike. In the Arctic they need able-bodied young men—half the work is done ashore and there are long tramps over ice and snow. No, Tom, Cap’n Pem won’t go, that’s certain.”

“You said that about the Hector,” Tom reminded him. “And yet he went. Oh, Dad, if Cap’n Pem and Mike go, can’t I?”

“I suppose you want me to make another bargain,” chuckled his father, “and make a condition that seems impossible but may be fulfilled. No, Tom, even if Cap’n Pem went I would hesitate to consent. But I’ll tell you what. If the owners of the Narwhal invite you to go—remember you’re not to ask them—and if they guarantee that they’ll be personally responsible for your safety, then I’ll consent.”

“Well that’s poor comfort!” exclaimed the disappointed boy. “Just as if the owners are going to invite us without even knowing we want to go, and as if they’d be responsible for us! Gee, they’d have to double their insurance, I guess.”

“One’s as likely as the other, I admit,” laughed Mr. Chester. “But don’t be so disappointed, Tom. Maybe there’ll be a ship going to the West Indies or the Atlantic this summer that you can go on—some short cruise.”

“Bother the West Indies!” cried Tom petulantly. “I want to go to the Arctic, and maybe Mr. Dixon may take Cap’n Edwards and maybe he or Cap’n Pem or some one may tell him we can navigate, and if he wants mates perhaps he will ask us.”

“Well, if he does you can go—that is, of course, if Jim goes too,” smiled Tom’s father. “But remember you’re neither to ask, nor hint about it. And I don’t think you’ll need to get out your winter things this June.”