ing
waters in our wake, we saw a head appearing and disappearing, and
growing smaller and smaller all the while, though the swimmer was
struggling bravely to hold his own. In a moment the engines were
stopped; and then--an after-thought--we made as sharp a turn as
possible, hoping to lessen the distance between us, while a boat was
being manned and lowered for the rescue. We feared that it was the cook,
who was running a fair chance of being drowned or chilled to death. His
black head bobbed like a burnt cork on the crest of the waves; and,
though we marked a snow-white circle in the sea, we seemed to get no
nearer the strong swimmer in his agony; and all at once we saw him turn,
as in desperation or despair, and make for one of the little rocky
islets that were lying at no great distance. Evidently he believed
himself deserted, and was about to seek this desolate rock in the hope
of prolonging existence.

By this time we had come to a dead halt, and a prolonged silence
followed. Our sailor boys pulled lustily at the oars; yet the little
boat seemed to crawl through yawning waves, and, as usual, every moment
was an hour of terrible suspense. Then the captain, the most anxious
among us all, made a trumpet of his hands and shouted: "Here, Pete, old
boy! Here, Pete, you black rascal!" At the sound of his voice the
swimmer suddenly turned and struck out for the ship with an enthusiasm
that was actually ludicrous. We roared with laughter--we could not help
it; for when the boat had pulled up to the almost water-logged swimmer,
and he began to climb in with an energy that imperiled the safety of the
crew, we saw that the black rascal in question was none other than Pete
Bruin, Captain Carroll's pet bear. He shook himself and drenched the
oarsmen, who were trying to get him back to the ship; for he was half
frantic with delight, and it was pretty close quarters--a small boat in
a chop sea dotted with lumpy ice; and a frantic bear puffing and blowing
as he shambled bear-fashion from the stem to stern, and raised his voice
at intervals in a kind of hoarse "hooray," that depressed rather than
cheered his companions. It was ticklish business getting the boat and
its lively crew back to the davits in safety.

It was still more ticklish receiving the shaggy hero on deck; for he
gave one wild bound and alighted in the midst of a group of terrified
ladies and scattered the rest of us in dismay. But it was side-splitting
when the lit