" said Raft.

She turned her face to the west. On the wind was coming the ghost of a
smell, faint and horrible and soul-searching.

"That's a ship," said Raft.

"A ship!"

"Boiling down blubber. I struck that smell once, seven years ago; it's
blubber. I reckon we're all right." He heaved himself on to his feet
and the girl half-rose, kneeling, and looked at him.

"Are you sure?"

"Sure as sure; smell it."

Then, as she sniffed again, she knew. That was not a nature smell;
horrible though it was it was not the tragic smell of corruption. It had
something, almost one might say, low down about it, little, mean,
business-like--it was her first sniff of returning Civilization, the
first impression on an olfactory sense cleared and cleaned by the winds
of Kerguelen.

She looked at Raft. He was standing, shading his eyes as though staring
at the smell. The dawn was at his back, and across the dawn a flight of
wild duck was making in from the sea.

Imagine a person walking in a garret from absolute penury to find
himself a millionaire. Such a person, were he normal, would feel what
the girl felt as the message of that noxious odour struck home to her
mind.

Her teeth chattered a little as she rose to her feet. She could not
speak and she had to hold her lower jaw with her hand to still it. Then
the muscles of her throat did all sorts of queer things on their own
account and a violent feeling of sickness seized her that would have
ended in an attack of vomiting had it not passed as quickly as it came.
Raft, who had ceased staring to the west, saw how she was taken and put
his hand on her shoulder.

"You'll be all right in a bit," said he, "it comes hard at first. I've
seen chaps go clean off their heads sniffin' land after three months of
hell and weather. We'll start in a bit, there's no call to hurry, and
I'll just take a walk to get the stiffness out of my legs."

Off he went, away and away, disappearing beyond a dip in the ground.

She knew that he would be away at least half an hour. Thoughtful as a
mother for her comfort, yet almost as outspoken, sometimes, as a nurse,
he was wonderful.

The dawn broke broader and stronger, peaceful and grey, promising a
continuance of the fine weather that had now lasted for three days,
three days without wind or rain or threat from the mountains that sat
this morning far away and clear cut against the sky.

Then as they went on their way the sun broke over the edge of