214 THE WORLD OF ICE.

The longed-for hour came at last. The cabin tables
having been removed, and rows of seats placed in
front of the stage, the men were admitted from the
deck, to which they had been expelled an hour previous
in order not to impede preliminary arrangements.
There was great joking, of course, as they took their
seats and criticised the fittings up. David Mizzle
was of opinion that the foot-lights “wos oncommon
grand,” which was an unquestionable fact, for they
consisted of six tin lamps filled with seal-oil, from the
wicks of which rose a compound of yellow flame and
smoke that had a singularly luminous effect. Amos
Parr guessed that the curtain would be certain sure
to get jammed at the first haul, and several of the
others were convinced that O'Riley would stick his
part in one way or another. However, an end was
put to all remarks and expectation raised on tip-toe
by the ringing of a small hand-bell, and immediately
thereafter a violent pulling at the curtain which con-
cealed the stage. But the curtain remained immov-
able (they always do on such occasions), and a loud
whispering was heard behind the scenes.

“Clap on extra tackle and call all hands to hoist
away,” suggested one of the audience.

The laugh with which this advice was received was
checked in the bud by the sudden rising of the curtain
with such violence that the whole framework of the
theatre shook again.

For a few seconds a dead silence reigned, for the
men were stricken dumb with genuine amazement at