The Boy Aviators' Polar Dash - or Facing Death in the Antarctic by [psued.] Captain Wilbur Lawton
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page 8 of 252 (03%)
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"I suppose we are now another part of the miscellaneous cargo, sir. If
we are in the way tell us and we'll go ashore again." "No, I've got you here now and I don't mean to let you escape," laughed the other in response; "in my cabin--its aft there under the break in the poop, you'll find some more overalls, put them on and then I'll set you both to work as tallyers." Harry looked blank at this. He had counted on rambling over the ship and examining her at his leisure. It seemed, however, that they were to be allowed no time for skylarking. Frank, however, obeyed with alacrity. "Ay, ay, sir!" he exclaimed, with a sailor-like hitch at his trousers; "come, Harry, my hearty, tumble aft, we might as well begin to take orders now as any other time." "That's the spirit, my boy," exclaimed the captain warmly, as Harry, looking a bit shamefaced at his temporary desire to protest, followed his brother to the stern of the ship. Once on board there was no room to doubt that the Southern Cross had once been a whaler under the prosaic name of Eben A. Thayer. In fact if there had been any indecision about the matter the strong smell of oil and blubber which still clung to her, despite new coats of paint and a thorough cleaning, would have dispelled it. The engine-room, as is usual in vessels of the type of the converted whaler, was as far aft as it could be placed, and the boys noticed with satisfaction as they entered the officers' quarters aft, that the |
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