The entertainments were to conclude with a hornpipe from Mivins; but just as that elastic individual had completed the first of a series of complicated evolutions, and was about to commence the second, a vociferous barking of the dogs was heard outside, accompanied by the sound of human voices.  The benches were deserted in a moment, and the men rushed upon deck, catching up muskets and cutlasses, which always stood in readiness, as they went.  The sounds proceeded from a party of about twenty Esquimaux who had been sent from the camp with the stolen property, and with a humble request that the offence might be forgiven, and their chief and his wife returned to them.  They were all unarmed; and the sincerity of their repentance was further attested by the fact that they brought back, not only the hatchet and telescope, but a large assortment of minor articles that had not been missed.

Of course the apology was accepted; and, after speeches were delivered, and protestations of undying friendship made on both sides, the party were presented with a few trinkets and a plug of tobacco each, and sent back in a state of supreme happiness to their village, where for a week Awatok kept the men of his tribe, and Aninga the women, in a state of intense amazement by their minute descriptions of the remarkable doings of the white strangers.

The friendship thus begun between the Esquimaux and the Dolphin’s crew was never once interrupted by any unpleasant collision during the months that they afterwards travelled and hunted in company.  Strength of muscle and promptitude in action are qualities which all nations in a savage state understand and respect, and the sailors proved that they possessed these qualities in a higher degree than themselves during the hardships and dangers incident to Arctic life, while at the same time their seemingly endless resources and contrivances impressed the simple natives with the belief that white men could accomplish anything they chose to attempt.

CHAPTER XVII.

Expeditions on foot—­Effects of darkness on dogs and men—­The first death—­Caught in a trap—­The Esquimau camp.

“I don’t know how it is, an’ I can’t tell wot it is, but so it is,” remarked Buzzby to Grim, a week after the first night of the theatricals, “that that ‘ere actin’ has done us all a sight o’ good.  Here we are as merry as crickets every one, although we’re short o’ fresh meat, and symptoms o’ scurvy are beginning to show on some of us.”

“It’s the mind havin’ occupation, an’ bein’ prewented from broodin’ over its misfortins,” replied Grim, with the air of a philosopher.

Grim did not put this remark in turned commas, although he ought to have done so, seeing that it was quoted from a speech made by the captain to Singleton the day before.

“You see,” continued Grim, “we’ve been actin’ every night for a week past.  Well, if we hadn’t been actin’, we should ha’ been thinkin’ an’ sleepin’; too much of which, you see, ain’t good for us, Buzzby, and would never pay.”