Every one on board the _Arrandoon_ was early astir--up, indeed, before the sun himself--for there were to be great doings on sh.o.r.e to-day. The first great experimental balloon ascent and flight was about to be made.

Every one on sh.o.r.e was early astir, too; in fact, the greatest excitement prevailed, and on the table-land to the right of, and some little distance from, the town, from which the balloon was to ascend, the people had a.s.sembled from an early hour, even the ladies of Reikjavik turning out dressed in their gayest attire, no small proportion of which consisted of fur and feathers.

The aeronaut was a professional, Monsieur De Vere by name. McBain had gone all the way to Paris especially to engage his services. Nor had he hired him at random, for this canny captain of ours had not only satisfied himself that De Vere was in a scientific point of view a clever man, but he had accompanied him in several ascents, and could thus vouch for his being a really practical aeronaut.

Who would go with De Vere in this first great trip over the regions of perpetual snow? The doctor stepped forward as a volunteer, and by his side was Rory. Perhaps Allan and Ralph were rather lazy for any such aerial exploit; anyhow, they were content to stay at home.

"We'll look on, you know," said Ralph, "as long as we can see you; and when you return--that is, if ever you do return--you can tell us all about it."

When all was ready the ropes were cast loose, and, with a ringing cheer from the a.s.sembled mult.i.tude, up arose the mighty balloon, straight as arrow from bow, into the blue, sunny sky. Like the eagle that soars from the peak of Benrinnes, she seemed to seek the very sun itself.

Rory and the surgeon, who had never been in a balloon before--nor even, for the matter of that, down in a coalpit--at first hardly relished their sudden elevation, but they soon got used to it.

Not the slightest motion was there; Rory could hardly credit the fact that he was moving, and when at last he did muster up sufficient courage to peep earthwards over the side of the car.

"Oh, look, doctor dear!" he cried; "sure, look for yourself; the world is moving away from us altogether!"

And this was precisely the sensation they experienced. Both the doctor and Rory were inclined to clutch nervously and tremulously the sides of the car in the first part of their ascent; but though the former was not much of a sailor, somewhat to his surprise he experienced none of those giddy feelings common to the landsman when gazing from an immense height. He could look beneath him and around him, and enjoy to the full the strange bird's-eye landscape and seascape that every moment seemed to broaden and widen, until a great portion of the northern island, with its mountains, its lakes, its frozen torrents, its gulfs and bays and islands, and the great blue southern ocean, even to the far-off Faroe Isles, lay like a beautifully portrayed map beneath their feet. The grandeur of the scene kept them silent for long minutes; it impressed them, it awed them. It did more than even this, for it caused them to feel their own littleness, and the might of the Majesty that made the world.

De Vere himself seldom vouchsafed a single glance landwards; he seemed to busy himself wholly and solely with the many strange instruments with which he was surrounded. He was hardly a moment idle. The intense cold, that soon began to benumb the senses of Sandie, seemed to have no deterrent effect on his efforts.

"I must confess I do fell sleepy," said the worthy medico, "and I meant to a.s.sist you, Mr De Vere."

"Here," cried the scientist, pouring something out of a phial, and handing it to him, "drink that quick."

"I feel double the individual," cried Sandie, brightly, as soon as he had swallowed the draught.

"Come," said Rory, "come, monsieur, _I_ want to feel double the individual, too."

"No, no, sir," said De Vere, smiling, "an Irishman no want etherism; you are already--pardon me--too ethereal."

Sandie was gazing skywards.

"It is the moon,"--he was saying--"I ken her horn, She's blinkin' in the lift sae hie; She smiles, the jade! to wile us hame, But, 'deed, I doubt, she'll wait a wee."

"Happy thought!" cried Rory; "let us go to the moon."

"No," laughed the doctor; "n.o.body ever got that length yet."

"Oh, you forget, Mr Surgeon," said Rory,--"you forget entirely all about Danny O'Rourke."

"Tell us, then, Rory."

"Troth, then," began Rory, in his richest brogue, "it was just like this same. Danny was a dacint boy enough, who lived entoirely alone with Biddy his wife, and the pig, close to a big bog in old Oireland.

Sitting on a stone in the midst of this bog was Danny, one foine summer's evening, when who should fly down but an aigle. 'Foine noight,' says the aigle. 'The same to you,' says Danny, 'and many of them.' 'But,' says the aigle, 'don't you see that it is sinking you are?' 'Och! sure,' cries Danny, 'and so it is. I'll be swallowed up in the bog, and poor Biddy and the pig will nivir set eyes on me again.

Och! och! what'll I do?' 'Git on to me back, troth,' says the aigle, 'and I'll fly you sthraight to your Biddy's door.' 'And the blessings av the O'Rourkes be wid ye thin,' says Danny, putting his arms round the aigle's neck, 'for you are the sinsible bird, and whatever I'd have done widout ye, ne'er a bit o' me knows. But isn't it high enough you are now, aroon? Yonder is my cottage just down there.' For," continued Rory, "you must know that by this time the aigle had mounted fully a mile high with poor Danny. 'Be quiet wid ye,' says the aigle, 'or I'll shake ye off me back entoirely. Don't ye remember robbing my nest last year? _I_ do. And it's niver a cottage you'll ever see again, nor Biddy, nor the pig either. It's right up to the moon I'm flying wid ye.' 'What!' cries Danny, 'to that bit av a thing like a raping-hook?

Och! and och! what'll become av me at all at all?' But the moon got bigger the nearer they came to it, and they found it a dacint size enough when they got there entirely. 'Catch a howld av the end av the raping-hook,' says the aigle, 'or by this and by that I'll shake ye off me shoulder.' And so poor Danny had no ho' but just to do as he was told, and away flew the aigle and left him. While he was wondering what he should do now, a stern voice behind him says, 'Let go--let go the end of the raping-hook, and be off wid ye back to your own counthry.' 'It's hardly civil av you,' says Danny, 'to ask me sich a thing. Sure it is few ever come to call on you anyhow.' 'Let go,' thundered the man o'

the moon; and he gave Danny just one kick, and off went the poor boy flying into the air. 'It's killed I'll be,' says he to himself, 'killed entoirely wid the fall, and what'll become o' me wife Biddy and the pig is more'n I can tell.' But he fell, and he fell, and he fell, and he never seemed to stop falling, till plump he alights right in the middle o' the sea, and there he lay on the broad back av him, till a big lump av a whale came and splashed him all over wid his tail. But sure enough the sea was only his bed, and the big whale turned out to be Biddy herself, with the watering-pot, telling him to get up, for a lazy ould boy, and feed the pig, and troth it was nothing but a dream after all.

"But where in the name of wonder are we now?" he continued, gazing around.

It was a very natural question. It had got suddenly dark. They were enveloped in a snow-cloud. The brave balloon seemed to struggle through it.

Ballast was thrown over, and up and out into the sunshine she rose again, but what a change had come over her appearance--every rope and length of her and the car itself and our bold aeronauts were covered white with virgin snow.

"Monsieurs," said De Vere, "this is more than I bargained for. We must descend. You see she has lost all life. De lofely soul dat was in de balloon seems to have gone. We will descend."

Indeed the huge balloon was already moving slowly earthwards, and in a minute more they were again pa.s.sing through the snow-cloud. Once clear of this a breeze sprang up, or, to speak more correctly, they entered a current of air, that carried them directly inland for many miles. Tired of this direction, the valve was opened, out roared the gas, and the descent became more rapid, until the wind ceased to blow--they were beneath the adverse current. More ballast was thrown out, and her "way"

was stopped.

But see, what aileth our hero, boy Rory? For some minutes he has been gazing southwards over the sea, so intensely indeed that his looks almost frighten the honest doctor.

"The gla.s.s, the gla.s.s," he hisses, holding round his hand, but not taking his glance for a moment off the southern horizon.

The gla.s.s is handed to him, he adjusts it to his eye, and takes one long, fixed look; and when he turns once more towards the doctor his face is radiant with joy and excitement.

"It is she," he cried, "it is _she_, it is she!"

The doctor really looked scared.

"Man!" he said, "are ye takin' leave o' your wuts? There, tak' a hold o' my hand and dinna try to frighten folk. There's never a 'she' near ye."

"It is _she_, I tell you," cried Rory again; "take the gla.s.s and look in under the land yonder, and heading for Stromsoe. It is the pirate herself,--the pirate we fought in the _s...o...b..rd_. Hurrah! hurrah!"

CHAPTER NINE.

MOUNT HEKLA--THE GREAT GEYSER--A NARROW ESCAPE--THE SEARCH FOR THE PIRATE--MCBAIN'S LITTLE "RUSE DE GUERRE"--THE BATTLE BEGUN.

"That puts quite another complexion on the matter," said Dr Sandy McFlail, with a sigh of relief, when Rory explained to him that he had spied the pirate, "quite another complexion, though, for the time bein'

ye glowered sae like a warlock that I did think ye had lost your reason; so give me the gla.s.s, and I'll e'en take a look at her mysel'.

"Eh! sirs," he continued, with the telescope at his eye, "but she is a big ship, and a bonnie ship. But, Rory boy, just catch a hold o' my coat-tails, and I'll feel more secure like. I wouldn't wish to go heels o'er head out o' the car. A fine big ship indeed--square-rigged forward and schooner-rigged aft; a vera judeecious arrangement."

"Now," cried Rory, "the sooner we are landed on old mother earth the better. Bend on to the valve halyards, De Vere. Down with her."

"Sirs! sirs!" cried the doctor, in great alarm; "pray don't be rash. Be judeecious, gentlemen, be judeecious."

De Vere looked from one to the other, then laughed aloud. He was amused at the impetuosity of the Irishman and at the canniness of the Scot.

A very pleasant little man was this De Vere to look at, black as to hair and moustache, dark as to eyes; thoughtful-looking as a rule were these eyes, yet oft lit up with fun. He never spoke much, perhaps he cogitated the more; he seldom made a joke himself, but he had a high appreciation of humour in others. Taking him all and all he gave you the impression of one who would be little likely to lose his presence of mind in a time of danger.

"Gentlemen," he said, quietly, "you will leave the descent in my hands, if you please. We are now, by my calculation, some ninety miles from the city of Reikjavik. You see beneat' you wild mountains, ice-bound plains, frozen lakes, rivers and waterfalls, deep ravines and gorges, but no sign of smoke, no life. Shall I make my descent here? Shall I pull vat Monsieur Rory call de valve halyard? Shall I land in de regions of desolation?"

"Dinna think o't," cried Sandy. "Never mind Rory; he is only a laddie."

"It's yourself that's complimentary," quoth Rory.

"Ah! ver' well," said De Vere; "I will go on, for since you have been gazing on de ship, de current have change, and we once more get nearer home."

An hour went slowly by. Both the doctor and Rory were gazing at the _far-off_ mountain, Hekla, that lay to the south and east, though distant many miles. The vast hill looked a king among the other mountains; a king, but a dead king, being still and quiet in the sunshine, enrobed in a shroud of snow.