THE JOUENEY DOWN, AND CONCLUSION. 397 



of Lulea, in the grey hazy light of morning. The 

 weather had come on squally, and so heavy a mist 

 hung over the river that we could not see a boat's 

 length before us. We pulled out in a rickety 

 little dingey to the brig, which lay some distance 

 from the shore, and it was some time before we 

 could find the ship. " Brig ahoy !" met with no 

 response, till at length we saw the hull of the 

 "timber drogger " looming right ahead. When 

 we ran alongside, all was silent as death, and we 

 would not wake any of the crew. In fact, that 

 would not have been an easy task ; for while the 

 skipper had been enjoying himself on shore, the 

 crew were doing the same on board, and every 

 man, especially the old mate, had turned in con- 

 siderably more than half seas over. "Now," 

 said the skipper, as we climbed up the chains, 

 "I'll have a lark with my old mate." So we 

 groped our way quietly down into the cabin — a 

 little confined place, redolent of pitch and bilge- 

 water — and as soon as we had struck a light, the 

 skipper, clad in his rein- skin and horns, went 

 up to the mate's bunk, and, shaking him roughly 

 by the arm, roared out in a voice of thunder, 

 "Now turn out, old fellow, I've come for you 

 at last; I've been wanting you a long time." 

 Never shall I forget the ludicrous scene that 

 followed. After staring wildly for a few seconds 



