Chapter Thirty Five.

Chapter Thirty Five.Preparing for the Enemy.“Well, Johannes, what do you say to this?” said the captain, when he appeared on deck the next morning—a natural morning Steve called it, for there had been darkness once more in the night.“Winter’s coming, sir,” replied the Norseman, as he glanced round him at the dark, clear, metal-like ice which spread from shore to shore, and looked strong enough to bear.“Yes, but has it come? Surely this will melt before sunset, and we shall have some mild weather ere the cold regularly sets in?”“If we were two or three hundred miles farther south, sir,” replied the man, “I could answer you; but who can tell what the weather is likely to be up here, where man has had no experience. We can only wait and see.”They waited; and for a fortnight longer the ice which formed in the night melted in the day. Then came one that was dull and sunless, when the ice did not melt, and they had a fall of snow. That night the ice more than doubled in thickness, and they started ashore next morning for a good long tramp eastward, drawing a light sledge bearing provisions, and ready for the carriage of any game that might be shot.This was a new experience, for winter garments were now worn, with heavy boots and mittens, fur caps, and eye-protectors. The snow filled up the inequalities of the ground, and the sledge glided easily upon its runners; but its load was soon increased, for the walking was heavy, and as the sun shone out the men were glad to pile their heavy coats upon the light framework and walk without them.The scene was brilliant, and every here and there they found traces of animals, of whose presence they would otherwise have been ignorant. Skene was the first to notice footprints, snuffling loudly and growling, and setting up his fur about his neck, according to his custom when he smelt an enemy; and upon these tracks being examined, they proved to be similar to those which would be made by a dog with thick claws and very hairy feet.“Wolves,” said Johannes directly. “Those which you heard the other night, Mr Steve.”A sharp look-out was kept for these visitors, but none were seen. Soon after, though, they came upon the fresh-looking footprints of a bear—marks so big that they indicated an animal of large size. But the beast which printed the long marks had gone toward the shore, and though arms were kept ready for instant use, they marched on seeing nothing but the dazzling snow.After a time the doctor called a halt and gave orders. “Spectacles at once,” he said, “or I shall be having cases of snow-blindness to attend.”So eye-protectors were mounted, and the party moved on again, the captain choosing a fresh direction, one not previously tried, and, in spite of the heavy walking, as there was no halting to track game, they made plenty of progress, getting miles beyond any point previously reached before they stopped to attack the provisions and rest.It was intensely cold, but the sun shone brilliantly, and there was not a breath of air; so that the great lowering of the temperature was not unpleasant, especially as the exertion had sent the blood racing through their veins, while the novel aspect of the scene was full of interest for Steve. The peaks glittered in the new-fallen snow, and, look where they would, it was at a world of dazzling whiteness, save where the shadows and valley-like rifts in the mountain-sides appeared to be of a delicate blue.“We must take advantage of all the light now, Steve,” said the captain, “and make expeditions inland whenever it is possible. We might pick out a few places and makecachesof provision, so as to get farther out each time. But it is more from a sense of duty than anything else. We must feel that we have done everything possible to find our friends.”“Yes, sir. Why not make our way right across?”“Across where?”“The island to the farther shore, and then work right round the coast, and come up again on our side.”“For several reasons, my lad,” said Captain Marsham, smiling. “It would be very risky to take the men so far from our headquarters, not knowing how soon we may be attacked by a terrible storm. We do not know that we are upon an island with a farther shore. And it would be impossible to make such a journey as you propose. Are these reasons enough?”“Plenty, sir. Are we going any farther?”“No. We have got by the days of endless light, my lad, and I don’t wish for us to be benighted out in these snowy valleys.”So the captain gave the word to turn back, and they reached the ship just at dusk, after a most uneventful journey, not having encountered a single head of game.The next morning they found that more snow had fallen, and the deck had to be cleared. There was not the most remote prospect now of doing more that season, so the boats were made snug and covered; and as there was no likelihood of the ship moving in a drift, so set fast was she in the ice, the men were now started to rig up an awning like the roof of a hut and completely cover in the deck. This was worked at with a will, till a double thickness of canvas was spread, and over that tarpaulins.“Keep some of the cold out, eh, doctor?”“Yes,” said that gentleman; “and I suppose in a night or two you’ll have snow over it to keep us warmer.”“It is probable. Wonderful how rapidly we are settling down into winter. A long one, too,” he added in a low voice. “Can you keep us all in good health till the summer comes again?”“It depends more upon yourselves than upon me,” said Mr Handscombe sharply. “Keep every one so busy that he gets tired and has no time to think.”“I mean to,” said the captain quietly. “There will be enough to keep them pretty well employed in getting and sleighing over to here all the coal I hope to have on board—enough, that is, to make up for all that is gone, and so as to give us an ample supply to keep our stoves burning as much as we like.”“Well,” said the doctor, “with plenty of work, plenty to eat and drink, and the means of keeping up bonny fires, I do not see why we should not pass through the winter pleasantly enough. The darkness will be depressing when it comes, but the men will have grown pretty well accustomed to it; for it comes on, I suppose, so thoroughly by degrees. Let’s see, how long will it be perfectly dark?”“Not at all, I hope,” said Captain Marsham. “Nature counteracts a great deal of the gloom by the brilliancy of stars and moon, and the reflection from the dazzlingly white earth. Then, too, I suppose we shall have the aurora pretty often.”“But for how long does the sun disappear entirely?”“About eighteen weeks,” said the captain. “Once it has reached its farthest point to the south I don’t care, for then it will be journeying back to us. Our task seems to be to keep the men in good heart up to the shortest day; after that we can manage.”Days passed with a fair amount of sunshine, and then came a week of storm, the wind giving them a taste or two of what might be expected later; and the snow fell heavily, loading down the great tent-like arrangement over the deck to such an extent that the men were busily employed rigging up the extra spars and spare yards as rafters and ridge-poles, to help bear the strain put upon the ropes; and then all knew that there was to be no autumn, for the brief northern summer gave place at one bound to winter.After the storm the snow was piled and drifted up round and about the bows to such an extent that in one place there was a complete slope from the top of the bulwark, and the snow lay deep upon the ice, though here and there a few passages were left where the wind had swept the surface pretty clear; and as the day was fairly bright and the way open in the direction of the narrow, jagged rift, it was decided to take advantage of the opportunity and have a trip through the gorge to the seashore.Anticipating that the zigzagging, canal-like waterway would be too slightly frozen in so sheltered a spot to bear a party of men, a boat was run down the snow-slope on to the ice, and then skated along on the iron of the keel where the snow was absent, and driven over or through it when it lay deep. The men took to the task readily, the dog entered into the excitement of the business, and Steve followed sedately enough with the captain and doctor, envying Watty his spirits, for the lad had permission to accompany the party, and he was revelling in the excitement of a day’s freedom from the slavery of the galley. The men, too, thoroughly enjoyed their task, dragging and pushing with plenty of cheering as they got the boat through some great snow-wreath which barred their way to the chasm-like opening in the side of the fiord.“Black water—no ice!” cried Steve, who made his way to the front when they were nearly across.“Na, tat’s not watter,” said Watty, who had followed him. “She’s a’ ice.”“Nonsense! Look how clear it is!” cried Steve. “It must be water.”But as he reached the entrance he had to alter his opinion, for the black-looking water proved to be perfectly solid; and Watty dashed on, slid some distance, and ended by jumping upon it.“Tak’ car’, laddie!” cried Andrew; “ef she gangs through she’ll hae to stay.”But there was no fear, and the boat was left upright in a snow-drift, the provisions packed on the little hand-sleigh brought as well, and the journey commenced through the chasm. At first every one proceeded cautiously, expecting moment by moment to hear a sharp crack; but after a few minutes confidence was felt in the strength of the ice, and all stepped out boldly.“Hadn’t we better have brought the boat, after all, sir?” Steve asked the captain. “There’ll be open water as soon as we are through, and we might get a seal or two, if we didn’t get a walrus.”“If the water is frozen in this sheltered passage, my lad,” replied the captain, “there is no fear about the water on the other side.”“What! you think it would be frozen?”“Certainly. I expect we shall find the open sheet of water along the shore frozen from side to side.”“Then there’ll be no walrus?”“Not one.”“Nor seals?”“I don’t expect we shall see anything now for months but bears, wolves, and foxes. Beside them, we shall be the only occupants of the place. I have not seen a bird for days.”It proved as the captain had said, for as soon as they were well through the narrow passage there lay the ice to right and left, and not a patch of open water was to be seen. Winter had set in indeed, and after a long tramp without seeing a single animal the party retraced their steps, and returned to the ship light enough, but in excellent spirits, the inevitable being accepted; and as there was an abundant supply of food in store, the absence of game in boat and sleigh, though it made Mr Lowe smile, was deemed to be of not the slightest consequence.The next day the coaling began, the men being divided into four parties, one to hew down the coal on the mountain-side, another to collect and pass it down to the sledges, and the other two parties to draw the loaded and empty sledges to and fro. The mineral fuel was abundant, and the men worked so well that very soon the beaten track through the snow was blackened with dust and small fragments of coal; while, after this had been kept on for a week, the men treating the dirty job as quite a frolic, Steve felt that the sooner another fall of snow came down the better for the face of nature. He was not kept long waiting, for the second night after the captain had been satisfied that no more coal could be stored with any convenience down came the storm again, lasting a couple of days, and the last hope of the weather becoming open that season departed.“No, sir,” said Johannes; “the winter has come, and means to stay.”“Right on through the long, black darkness when there is no sun,” said Steve with a slight shiver, and he went and looked at the glass.The doctor saw him go, and joined him. “Down to zero, my lad,” he said. “That would make people at home stare. But it’s only the mercury that’s down to zero; our spirits must be up to a thoroughly genial height.”Steve nodded, but he could not help a curious sensation of awe creeping over him as once more he thought of the coming six months, during which they would almost have bidden good-bye to the sun.“I can’t quite think how we shall do without any light, Mr Handscombe,” said Steve quietly.“Nor I neither, my lad; butexperientia docet, as the Latin folk used to say.”“But doctors should not,” said the captain merrily, as he came up. “Docetsounds suggestive from the lips of a medical man. Now, Steve, I appoint you commander-in-chief of the fires. See that they are properly kept up from now till the end of next spring.”“If spring there be,” said the doctor. “I expect that we shall step from winter into summer, as we did from summer to winter; but we shall see.”“Yes,” said the captain, “we shall see.”

“Well, Johannes, what do you say to this?” said the captain, when he appeared on deck the next morning—a natural morning Steve called it, for there had been darkness once more in the night.

“Winter’s coming, sir,” replied the Norseman, as he glanced round him at the dark, clear, metal-like ice which spread from shore to shore, and looked strong enough to bear.

“Yes, but has it come? Surely this will melt before sunset, and we shall have some mild weather ere the cold regularly sets in?”

“If we were two or three hundred miles farther south, sir,” replied the man, “I could answer you; but who can tell what the weather is likely to be up here, where man has had no experience. We can only wait and see.”

They waited; and for a fortnight longer the ice which formed in the night melted in the day. Then came one that was dull and sunless, when the ice did not melt, and they had a fall of snow. That night the ice more than doubled in thickness, and they started ashore next morning for a good long tramp eastward, drawing a light sledge bearing provisions, and ready for the carriage of any game that might be shot.

This was a new experience, for winter garments were now worn, with heavy boots and mittens, fur caps, and eye-protectors. The snow filled up the inequalities of the ground, and the sledge glided easily upon its runners; but its load was soon increased, for the walking was heavy, and as the sun shone out the men were glad to pile their heavy coats upon the light framework and walk without them.

The scene was brilliant, and every here and there they found traces of animals, of whose presence they would otherwise have been ignorant. Skene was the first to notice footprints, snuffling loudly and growling, and setting up his fur about his neck, according to his custom when he smelt an enemy; and upon these tracks being examined, they proved to be similar to those which would be made by a dog with thick claws and very hairy feet.

“Wolves,” said Johannes directly. “Those which you heard the other night, Mr Steve.”

A sharp look-out was kept for these visitors, but none were seen. Soon after, though, they came upon the fresh-looking footprints of a bear—marks so big that they indicated an animal of large size. But the beast which printed the long marks had gone toward the shore, and though arms were kept ready for instant use, they marched on seeing nothing but the dazzling snow.

After a time the doctor called a halt and gave orders. “Spectacles at once,” he said, “or I shall be having cases of snow-blindness to attend.”

So eye-protectors were mounted, and the party moved on again, the captain choosing a fresh direction, one not previously tried, and, in spite of the heavy walking, as there was no halting to track game, they made plenty of progress, getting miles beyond any point previously reached before they stopped to attack the provisions and rest.

It was intensely cold, but the sun shone brilliantly, and there was not a breath of air; so that the great lowering of the temperature was not unpleasant, especially as the exertion had sent the blood racing through their veins, while the novel aspect of the scene was full of interest for Steve. The peaks glittered in the new-fallen snow, and, look where they would, it was at a world of dazzling whiteness, save where the shadows and valley-like rifts in the mountain-sides appeared to be of a delicate blue.

“We must take advantage of all the light now, Steve,” said the captain, “and make expeditions inland whenever it is possible. We might pick out a few places and makecachesof provision, so as to get farther out each time. But it is more from a sense of duty than anything else. We must feel that we have done everything possible to find our friends.”

“Yes, sir. Why not make our way right across?”

“Across where?”

“The island to the farther shore, and then work right round the coast, and come up again on our side.”

“For several reasons, my lad,” said Captain Marsham, smiling. “It would be very risky to take the men so far from our headquarters, not knowing how soon we may be attacked by a terrible storm. We do not know that we are upon an island with a farther shore. And it would be impossible to make such a journey as you propose. Are these reasons enough?”

“Plenty, sir. Are we going any farther?”

“No. We have got by the days of endless light, my lad, and I don’t wish for us to be benighted out in these snowy valleys.”

So the captain gave the word to turn back, and they reached the ship just at dusk, after a most uneventful journey, not having encountered a single head of game.

The next morning they found that more snow had fallen, and the deck had to be cleared. There was not the most remote prospect now of doing more that season, so the boats were made snug and covered; and as there was no likelihood of the ship moving in a drift, so set fast was she in the ice, the men were now started to rig up an awning like the roof of a hut and completely cover in the deck. This was worked at with a will, till a double thickness of canvas was spread, and over that tarpaulins.

“Keep some of the cold out, eh, doctor?”

“Yes,” said that gentleman; “and I suppose in a night or two you’ll have snow over it to keep us warmer.”

“It is probable. Wonderful how rapidly we are settling down into winter. A long one, too,” he added in a low voice. “Can you keep us all in good health till the summer comes again?”

“It depends more upon yourselves than upon me,” said Mr Handscombe sharply. “Keep every one so busy that he gets tired and has no time to think.”

“I mean to,” said the captain quietly. “There will be enough to keep them pretty well employed in getting and sleighing over to here all the coal I hope to have on board—enough, that is, to make up for all that is gone, and so as to give us an ample supply to keep our stoves burning as much as we like.”

“Well,” said the doctor, “with plenty of work, plenty to eat and drink, and the means of keeping up bonny fires, I do not see why we should not pass through the winter pleasantly enough. The darkness will be depressing when it comes, but the men will have grown pretty well accustomed to it; for it comes on, I suppose, so thoroughly by degrees. Let’s see, how long will it be perfectly dark?”

“Not at all, I hope,” said Captain Marsham. “Nature counteracts a great deal of the gloom by the brilliancy of stars and moon, and the reflection from the dazzlingly white earth. Then, too, I suppose we shall have the aurora pretty often.”

“But for how long does the sun disappear entirely?”

“About eighteen weeks,” said the captain. “Once it has reached its farthest point to the south I don’t care, for then it will be journeying back to us. Our task seems to be to keep the men in good heart up to the shortest day; after that we can manage.”

Days passed with a fair amount of sunshine, and then came a week of storm, the wind giving them a taste or two of what might be expected later; and the snow fell heavily, loading down the great tent-like arrangement over the deck to such an extent that the men were busily employed rigging up the extra spars and spare yards as rafters and ridge-poles, to help bear the strain put upon the ropes; and then all knew that there was to be no autumn, for the brief northern summer gave place at one bound to winter.

After the storm the snow was piled and drifted up round and about the bows to such an extent that in one place there was a complete slope from the top of the bulwark, and the snow lay deep upon the ice, though here and there a few passages were left where the wind had swept the surface pretty clear; and as the day was fairly bright and the way open in the direction of the narrow, jagged rift, it was decided to take advantage of the opportunity and have a trip through the gorge to the seashore.

Anticipating that the zigzagging, canal-like waterway would be too slightly frozen in so sheltered a spot to bear a party of men, a boat was run down the snow-slope on to the ice, and then skated along on the iron of the keel where the snow was absent, and driven over or through it when it lay deep. The men took to the task readily, the dog entered into the excitement of the business, and Steve followed sedately enough with the captain and doctor, envying Watty his spirits, for the lad had permission to accompany the party, and he was revelling in the excitement of a day’s freedom from the slavery of the galley. The men, too, thoroughly enjoyed their task, dragging and pushing with plenty of cheering as they got the boat through some great snow-wreath which barred their way to the chasm-like opening in the side of the fiord.

“Black water—no ice!” cried Steve, who made his way to the front when they were nearly across.

“Na, tat’s not watter,” said Watty, who had followed him. “She’s a’ ice.”

“Nonsense! Look how clear it is!” cried Steve. “It must be water.”

But as he reached the entrance he had to alter his opinion, for the black-looking water proved to be perfectly solid; and Watty dashed on, slid some distance, and ended by jumping upon it.

“Tak’ car’, laddie!” cried Andrew; “ef she gangs through she’ll hae to stay.”

But there was no fear, and the boat was left upright in a snow-drift, the provisions packed on the little hand-sleigh brought as well, and the journey commenced through the chasm. At first every one proceeded cautiously, expecting moment by moment to hear a sharp crack; but after a few minutes confidence was felt in the strength of the ice, and all stepped out boldly.

“Hadn’t we better have brought the boat, after all, sir?” Steve asked the captain. “There’ll be open water as soon as we are through, and we might get a seal or two, if we didn’t get a walrus.”

“If the water is frozen in this sheltered passage, my lad,” replied the captain, “there is no fear about the water on the other side.”

“What! you think it would be frozen?”

“Certainly. I expect we shall find the open sheet of water along the shore frozen from side to side.”

“Then there’ll be no walrus?”

“Not one.”

“Nor seals?”

“I don’t expect we shall see anything now for months but bears, wolves, and foxes. Beside them, we shall be the only occupants of the place. I have not seen a bird for days.”

It proved as the captain had said, for as soon as they were well through the narrow passage there lay the ice to right and left, and not a patch of open water was to be seen. Winter had set in indeed, and after a long tramp without seeing a single animal the party retraced their steps, and returned to the ship light enough, but in excellent spirits, the inevitable being accepted; and as there was an abundant supply of food in store, the absence of game in boat and sleigh, though it made Mr Lowe smile, was deemed to be of not the slightest consequence.

The next day the coaling began, the men being divided into four parties, one to hew down the coal on the mountain-side, another to collect and pass it down to the sledges, and the other two parties to draw the loaded and empty sledges to and fro. The mineral fuel was abundant, and the men worked so well that very soon the beaten track through the snow was blackened with dust and small fragments of coal; while, after this had been kept on for a week, the men treating the dirty job as quite a frolic, Steve felt that the sooner another fall of snow came down the better for the face of nature. He was not kept long waiting, for the second night after the captain had been satisfied that no more coal could be stored with any convenience down came the storm again, lasting a couple of days, and the last hope of the weather becoming open that season departed.

“No, sir,” said Johannes; “the winter has come, and means to stay.”

“Right on through the long, black darkness when there is no sun,” said Steve with a slight shiver, and he went and looked at the glass.

The doctor saw him go, and joined him. “Down to zero, my lad,” he said. “That would make people at home stare. But it’s only the mercury that’s down to zero; our spirits must be up to a thoroughly genial height.”

Steve nodded, but he could not help a curious sensation of awe creeping over him as once more he thought of the coming six months, during which they would almost have bidden good-bye to the sun.

“I can’t quite think how we shall do without any light, Mr Handscombe,” said Steve quietly.

“Nor I neither, my lad; butexperientia docet, as the Latin folk used to say.”

“But doctors should not,” said the captain merrily, as he came up. “Docetsounds suggestive from the lips of a medical man. Now, Steve, I appoint you commander-in-chief of the fires. See that they are properly kept up from now till the end of next spring.”

“If spring there be,” said the doctor. “I expect that we shall step from winter into summer, as we did from summer to winter; but we shall see.”

“Yes,” said the captain, “we shall see.”

Chapter Thirty Six.Chill Days.“Ha-Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”A regular rollicking burst of good, sound, old-fashioned, honest, English laughter, which rang out clear, bright, and cheery in the frosty air.“She’ll pe laughin’ at me, Meester Stevey?”“Yes!” cried the lad, bursting out into another peal, in which Skene joined with a good, sound, rattling bark. “Why, even the dog can’t help it. Look at him!”“She’ll pe only barkin’ and not laughin’. Togs canna laugh.”“Well, they can show their teeth!” cried Steve. “Oh, I say, Watty, you do look a guy! Your mother wouldn’t know you.”“Her ain mither wad ken her anywhere,” said Watty proudly.“Not like this. Why, you look like an old bear with a sheep-skin on. Why, that coat’s too big for you. What have you got underneath?”“She isna a pit too pig. She wants a muckle great-coat to keep oot the caud.”“Why, you’ve got a blanket on under it!”“Ay. She chust happit a planket roond an’ roond her potty, an’ tied it wi’ a bit o’ line to keep it oop, an’ she’s waarm as waarm a’ but her foots an’ han’s!”“I should think you are,” said Steve merrily. “You’re as big round as a hop pocket. You can hardly move.”“Oh ay, she can move when she wants to move. Hae ye got any chilplains?”“No, have you?”“Cot any chilplains? Why, her han’s an’ foots are chust a’ ane creat chilplain, an’ when she kets wairm they ding an’ itch till she cauld scratch awa’ a’ her skin.”“I’ll ask Mr Handscombe to give you something for them.”“Nay, she winna tak’ it. She canna’ tak’ pheesek.”“Nonsense! I mean to rub on.”“Oh, mebby she micht try a wee drap ootside.”“Well, how do you like having the weather so cold as this?”“She wants to gang hame. When shall we sail back again?”“Next summer, I hope. What nonsense! How could we sail when we’re frozen up?”“Preak a way oot. She wadna mind helping.”“You don’t know what you’re talking about. But I say, I wouldn’t dress up so warmly as that now.”“Why, she’s tressed oop wairmly!”“I’ve only got this sheep-skin coat on. If you dress like this now, what will you do when it grows cold?”“Phwat!” cried Watty excitedly. “Ye dinna mean that she can be more caud than this?”“Yes, this is nothing. Wait a bit till the sun does not rise at all, and it’s all dark, and then I s’pose it’s going to be tremendously cold.”“Dinna say it, sir; dinna say it!”“Why not? It’s true enough!” cried Steve.“Nay, she’s lauchin’ at her. Cauder! She could na pe mair caud than the noo.”“Oh, very well; wait and see.”“Put she’s chust choking her.”“Chust choking you!” cried Steve, laughing. “I tell you it’s all true.”“Hey, then, what’s to pecome of her?” groaned Watty. “She couldna pear a pit mair caud, and she’ll have to pe perried out here in the ice and snaw. Ye’ll chust tell her ane thing, Meester Stevey. She winna lauch at her?”“No, I won’t laugh, Watty. What is it?”“They keek oop a lot o’ talk and clish ma claver aboot it kettin’ dairk. Is she coing to hae ferry short days—shorter than they are the noo?”“There’ll be no days at all soon. It will all be night.”“Phwat! Dairk nicht, and no taylight at a’?”“Not a bit. The sun will not rise at all for about eighteen weeks.”Watty looked out wildly from among the wool of the great-coat he had on and from beneath the fur of his peaked cap with quite an agonised expression.“She isna choking her?”“No, I told you I would not.”“The sun winna coom oop at a’?”“No, not at all for eighteen weeks. It will be all night.”“Then ta wairld’s going to be at an eend?”“Nonsense! No.”“Then the sun’s coing oot?”“Not a bit of it.”“Then whar she coing to?”“Down toward the South Pole.”“She canna understan’ it,” said Watty piteously. “She thocht it was a’ talk to frechten her. Then we shall nivver see the sun any more?”“Of course we shall. There’ll be eighteen weeks without it, and then it will begin to get lighter again more and more, till the sun keeps up in the sky like it did when we came up here just now. You understand?”“Nay, she dinna understan’ it a pit.”“But you saw that the sun did not set for a long time?”“Yes, she saw tat; but she nivver understood it a pit.”“Well, it is puzzling,” said Steve. “It took me some time to get it into my head, but I do pretty well understand it now. Why, Watty, if we stood at the North Pole at midsummer, we should see the sun go round and round in the sky, and then every day get a little lower and a little lower, till it was only just in sight; and then still lower, till it disappeared altogether.”“Does she mean went oot o’ sicht a’ thegither?”“Yes.”“And wad she hae to stan’ recht o’ the top o’ the pole to see tat?”“No, at the Pole. You don’t think there’s a wooden pole there, do you?”“Ay. Andra says she’s a creat pig pole, an’ ta wairld turns roond and roond upon her.”“The world turns round and round; but there’s no wooden pole, only one spot they call the Pole.”“An’ ye can see the sun go roond like tat, Meester Stevey?”“You could if you could get there. Nobody has ever been so far north. I don’t think anybody has been so far before as this.”“Then how do they know?”“Oh, by calculations and books.”“She dinna pelieve it.”“Oh, it’s quite true, though.”“What, tat ta sun coes roond like tat?”“Yes, I’m not deceiving you. Don’t you believe me?”“Oh ay, she pelieves pecause she knows she’s a chentleman; and when a chentleman says onything is true she is quite true.”“Thank you,” said Steve, smiling. “Put if ta sun coes on like tat, an’ she’s squirming oop an’ squirming doon, she’s cot something wrong wi’ her wairks.”Steve laughed.“Ay, put it’s naething to lauch aboot, Meester Stevey. Thenk o’ the sun coing quite oot for eighteen weeks. Oh, it’s a waefu’ place. What’ll we do when it’s a’ nicht?”“Go to sleep like the bears do, and have a good long rest.”“Go to sleep for eighteen weeks!” cried Watty in horror. “Why, she’d nivver wak’ ony mair!”“Oh yes, you would; and besides, it will not be quite dark. There’ll be the moon and stars and the aurora.”“She dinna ken onything apoot the roarer. Will she mak’ it licht?”“Yes, beautifully.”“Hey, but caud as it is the noo?”“Much colder,” cried Steve.“Then she’ll chust lie doon and dee,” said Watty piteously, “for she canna bear to thenk upo’ it. Cauder than it is the noo, an’ her han’s and foots like they are. Why, she’d be a’ one creat chilplain ivery wha’! What wad her mither say if she knew?”The lads were out on the trampled snow about a hundred yards from theHvalross, which looked, with its snow-covered roofing, like some long, low house, out of which three tall masts had grown. And as they were talking a hail came from the canvas-covered doorway at the top of the gangway.The resemblance to a low, long house was increased by the iron chimneys rising out through the snow and the big funnel of the boiler, from all of which black smoke was issuing; for, the ample supply of coal being so near, Captain Marsham had the engine furnace kept going for the sake of the heat given by the boilers, as well as from the fire itself. In fact, the engine-room and stoke-hole became favourite places with the men of an evening before bed, or after a long tramp round somewhere through the snow; for, now that they were fairly started in their battle with the arctic winter, the weather had to be very bad, and the wind very keen, for the crew to be kept out of their daily exercise.The loud hail came from the doorway, and a curious-looking figure like a diver in a fur suit came down the well-made flight of ice steps, and advanced to join the two lads. The resemblance to a diver increased as it drew nearer, for the face was almost completely hidden by the visor-like arrangement of the round, helmet-shaped cap, and in place of a visor’s bars there were two large, round green-glass goggles which glistened in a peculiar manner when the object advanced, as if he were not only a diver, but a steam diver who was moved by some internal machinery which caused him to emit little puffs of steam at breathing intervals.“Morning, Mr Handscombe,” cried Steve as he drew near.“Morning, my lad; but look here, you are doing a very foolish thing. We’re below zero, and yet you’re standing about here talking as if it were summer.”“We haven’t felt the cold, sir.”“The more likely for the cold to be dangerous for you, my lad. A frost-bite comes on without the sufferer knowing about it, the cold making the part quite insensible to pain, and a bad bite may mean utter destruction of the tissue and the loss of even hands and feet.”“Phwat!” cried Watty, forgetting his awe of the doctor in the horror of the announcement; “wad a man who was frost-bit lose her han’s or her foots?”“Yes, if it were a bad case of freezing.”“An’ wad her han’s or foots tummle off?”“More likely the patient’s medical attendant would have to cut them off.”“Coot her han’s an foots off? What wi’—chopper?”“No,” said the doctor, smiling at the lad’s horrified looks; “they would be carefully taken off with a knife and saw. Surgeons are very careful.”Watty groaned.“It’s a’ ower wi’ her, Meester Stevey, an’ she’s ferry sorry she’s iver fote and ca’d her, for she’ll nivver see bonnie Scotland more.”“Why not? What’s the matter with you, my lad?” said the doctor.“She’s ferry pad, sir. Poth her foots an’ poth her han’s is frost-pitten.”“What! and you did not tell me? Here, come back to the ship, and let me have a look.”“Na, na, na; she’ll na gang wi’ ye!” cried Watty.“But if they are frost-bitten I can perhaps do them good, and save you from a very bad injury. Come along.”“Na, na; she’ll keep her han’s an’ foots on as lang as she can,” groaned the lad. “She winna let her tooch them.”“Don’t be absurd!” said the doctor angrily. “Steve, did you know of this?”“No, sir,” said the boy, fighting hard to conceal his mirth.“I ought to have been told. Here, come along. Stop!”“Ay, she’ll stop; she winna gang wi’ ye.”“Are your feet really bad?”“Ay, sir; but she shanna tooch them.”“You have no business to walk,” said the doctor. “I must have you carried, sir.”“Na, na; she’ll stay here.”“Bah! don’t be absurd, boy. I know what is best for you. Here, Steve, my lad, go and fetch two of the men to carry him in. I’m glad I heard of this in time.”“Dinna gang, Meester Stevey; oh, dinna gang!” cried Watty.“I must; I’m ordered to go,” cried Steve quickly, as he ran back to the ship, and then hunted out Andrew and Hamish from the forecastle to come and bear the lad to the deck.“She wass ferry well at breakfast,” said Andrew. “She must ha’ been eating something since then,” for Andrew’s ideas of illness were always in connection with eating or drinking too much. “Phwat will she say’s the matter?”“He told the doctor he was very bad,” replied Steve, “and you’re to carry him.”“She wass ferry sorry for the puir laddie, and she’ll carry her on her pack.”But Andrew was not allowed to carry Watty in on his “pack,” but under the doctor’s instructions, and, in spite of the lad’s remonstrances, they passed hands under him, made him throw his arms over their shoulders, and prepared to start.“She winna go!” cried Watty, struggling faintly.“Take no notice of him,” said the doctor; “he must be carried in at once. Now off!”Poor Watty was borne to the snow steps which rose right up to the gangway, carried in, and no sooner were they upon the gloomy deck, where they had to depend now for light upon a couple of swinging lanthorns, than the captain met them.The place was quite misty with the men’s breath, which hung about like steam, in spite of the efforts made to keep the place warm; and things looked quite indistinct, especially about Watty, who had had to resign himself to his fate, and lay where he was placed upon the deck.“What is it—a fall?” cried the captain; “broken leg?”“No, frost-bitten,” said the doctor laconically. “Take off that fur coat, my lads.”The huge sheep-skin coat was opened and drawn from Watty’s shoulders, leaving visible one of the blankets from his bunk doubled and rolled round him tightly, and held by a stout piece of cord that looked wonderfully like a portion of a walrus line.“Watty laddie,” said Hamish, “she meant to keep hersel’ wairm,” and the men about laughed, all but Johannes and his companions, who were perfectly serious.“Ay, she tid: ferry wairm as efer wass,” added Andrew. “Is it her nose?”“That will do, my men; let me come,” said the doctor, kneeling down and hastily drawing off the big fur glove that Watty wore on his right hand, in spite, too, of a good deal of resistance on the lad’s part.“Dinna lat him coot it off, Meester Stevey, sir,” he whispered. “Her mither wadna ken her if she went back to Ardnachree gin she had nae airms and legs.”“Humph! dear me!” said the doctor; “bring that lanthorn closer. Very red and inflamed, but that one’s not frost-bitten.”He held the hand close to the lanthorn, which was lowered by Andrew, and then knocked sidewise, for the lad sprang up sitting.“Then she wadna chop it off?”“No, no; lie still!” cried the doctor testily.“You had better hold him, my lads,” said the captain; and Hamish and Andrew held him down again, bringing forth a fierce growl from Skene, who seemed to feel that if there was a struggle on he ought to be in it.“Down, Skeny!” said Steve sharply; and the dog uttered an uneasy whine.“Here, let me see the other hand,” cried the doctor.“Na, that one’s the waur!” cried Watty excitedly. “She’s nae waur than this or my puir foots.”“No nonsense,” said the doctor; and he firmly but gently held the boy’s other red and swollen hand to the light of the lanthorn.“Frost-bitten?” said the captain; but the doctor did not answer save by a grunt.“Ane’s waur than t’ither,” whimpered Watty.“And now about your feet, my lad,” cried the doctor.“Oh, they’re nane so bad as my han’s, sir; only dings and tangs o’ nichts.”“There, get up, you young impostor!” cried the doctor, rising. “Frost-bitten?” he added, turning to the captain. “Nothing but a few chilblains. Here, you Steve,” he continued, button-holing the lad, “did you know there was nothing the matter but chilblains?”“He told me his hands and feet were frost-bitten,” said Steve.“Yes, but you knew better, sir,” said the doctor, who had hold of the boy’s arm and was marching him toward the cabin stairs.“Well, I—” began Steve.“Of course,” cried the doctor. “I saw the twinkle in your eye, my lad. Look here, don’t you play tricks with doctors; they get such chances for serving you out.”“I suppose I ought to have spoken,” said Steve; “but it seemed so comic to see him so sure that he was frost-bitten, and it’s such a long time since we had a laugh that—”“Let it rest, Handscombe,” said Captain Marsham good-humouredly. “Steve says it is a long time since he had a hearty laugh.”“What!” cried the doctor. “Why, I heard him roaring with laughter not above an hour ago.”Steve looked confused.“Of course,” he said, colouring. “I’d forgotten that.”“There, we don’t want any apologies, my boy,” said the captain. “Keep up your spirits, and other people’s if you can. I want every one to have a good store of health and strength before the long night comes.”

“Ha-Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!”

A regular rollicking burst of good, sound, old-fashioned, honest, English laughter, which rang out clear, bright, and cheery in the frosty air.

“She’ll pe laughin’ at me, Meester Stevey?”

“Yes!” cried the lad, bursting out into another peal, in which Skene joined with a good, sound, rattling bark. “Why, even the dog can’t help it. Look at him!”

“She’ll pe only barkin’ and not laughin’. Togs canna laugh.”

“Well, they can show their teeth!” cried Steve. “Oh, I say, Watty, you do look a guy! Your mother wouldn’t know you.”

“Her ain mither wad ken her anywhere,” said Watty proudly.

“Not like this. Why, you look like an old bear with a sheep-skin on. Why, that coat’s too big for you. What have you got underneath?”

“She isna a pit too pig. She wants a muckle great-coat to keep oot the caud.”

“Why, you’ve got a blanket on under it!”

“Ay. She chust happit a planket roond an’ roond her potty, an’ tied it wi’ a bit o’ line to keep it oop, an’ she’s waarm as waarm a’ but her foots an’ han’s!”

“I should think you are,” said Steve merrily. “You’re as big round as a hop pocket. You can hardly move.”

“Oh ay, she can move when she wants to move. Hae ye got any chilplains?”

“No, have you?”

“Cot any chilplains? Why, her han’s an’ foots are chust a’ ane creat chilplain, an’ when she kets wairm they ding an’ itch till she cauld scratch awa’ a’ her skin.”

“I’ll ask Mr Handscombe to give you something for them.”

“Nay, she winna tak’ it. She canna’ tak’ pheesek.”

“Nonsense! I mean to rub on.”

“Oh, mebby she micht try a wee drap ootside.”

“Well, how do you like having the weather so cold as this?”

“She wants to gang hame. When shall we sail back again?”

“Next summer, I hope. What nonsense! How could we sail when we’re frozen up?”

“Preak a way oot. She wadna mind helping.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. But I say, I wouldn’t dress up so warmly as that now.”

“Why, she’s tressed oop wairmly!”

“I’ve only got this sheep-skin coat on. If you dress like this now, what will you do when it grows cold?”

“Phwat!” cried Watty excitedly. “Ye dinna mean that she can be more caud than this?”

“Yes, this is nothing. Wait a bit till the sun does not rise at all, and it’s all dark, and then I s’pose it’s going to be tremendously cold.”

“Dinna say it, sir; dinna say it!”

“Why not? It’s true enough!” cried Steve.

“Nay, she’s lauchin’ at her. Cauder! She could na pe mair caud than the noo.”

“Oh, very well; wait and see.”

“Put she’s chust choking her.”

“Chust choking you!” cried Steve, laughing. “I tell you it’s all true.”

“Hey, then, what’s to pecome of her?” groaned Watty. “She couldna pear a pit mair caud, and she’ll have to pe perried out here in the ice and snaw. Ye’ll chust tell her ane thing, Meester Stevey. She winna lauch at her?”

“No, I won’t laugh, Watty. What is it?”

“They keek oop a lot o’ talk and clish ma claver aboot it kettin’ dairk. Is she coing to hae ferry short days—shorter than they are the noo?”

“There’ll be no days at all soon. It will all be night.”

“Phwat! Dairk nicht, and no taylight at a’?”

“Not a bit. The sun will not rise at all for about eighteen weeks.”

Watty looked out wildly from among the wool of the great-coat he had on and from beneath the fur of his peaked cap with quite an agonised expression.

“She isna choking her?”

“No, I told you I would not.”

“The sun winna coom oop at a’?”

“No, not at all for eighteen weeks. It will be all night.”

“Then ta wairld’s going to be at an eend?”

“Nonsense! No.”

“Then the sun’s coing oot?”

“Not a bit of it.”

“Then whar she coing to?”

“Down toward the South Pole.”

“She canna understan’ it,” said Watty piteously. “She thocht it was a’ talk to frechten her. Then we shall nivver see the sun any more?”

“Of course we shall. There’ll be eighteen weeks without it, and then it will begin to get lighter again more and more, till the sun keeps up in the sky like it did when we came up here just now. You understand?”

“Nay, she dinna understan’ it a pit.”

“But you saw that the sun did not set for a long time?”

“Yes, she saw tat; but she nivver understood it a pit.”

“Well, it is puzzling,” said Steve. “It took me some time to get it into my head, but I do pretty well understand it now. Why, Watty, if we stood at the North Pole at midsummer, we should see the sun go round and round in the sky, and then every day get a little lower and a little lower, till it was only just in sight; and then still lower, till it disappeared altogether.”

“Does she mean went oot o’ sicht a’ thegither?”

“Yes.”

“And wad she hae to stan’ recht o’ the top o’ the pole to see tat?”

“No, at the Pole. You don’t think there’s a wooden pole there, do you?”

“Ay. Andra says she’s a creat pig pole, an’ ta wairld turns roond and roond upon her.”

“The world turns round and round; but there’s no wooden pole, only one spot they call the Pole.”

“An’ ye can see the sun go roond like tat, Meester Stevey?”

“You could if you could get there. Nobody has ever been so far north. I don’t think anybody has been so far before as this.”

“Then how do they know?”

“Oh, by calculations and books.”

“She dinna pelieve it.”

“Oh, it’s quite true, though.”

“What, tat ta sun coes roond like tat?”

“Yes, I’m not deceiving you. Don’t you believe me?”

“Oh ay, she pelieves pecause she knows she’s a chentleman; and when a chentleman says onything is true she is quite true.”

“Thank you,” said Steve, smiling. “Put if ta sun coes on like tat, an’ she’s squirming oop an’ squirming doon, she’s cot something wrong wi’ her wairks.”

Steve laughed.

“Ay, put it’s naething to lauch aboot, Meester Stevey. Thenk o’ the sun coing quite oot for eighteen weeks. Oh, it’s a waefu’ place. What’ll we do when it’s a’ nicht?”

“Go to sleep like the bears do, and have a good long rest.”

“Go to sleep for eighteen weeks!” cried Watty in horror. “Why, she’d nivver wak’ ony mair!”

“Oh yes, you would; and besides, it will not be quite dark. There’ll be the moon and stars and the aurora.”

“She dinna ken onything apoot the roarer. Will she mak’ it licht?”

“Yes, beautifully.”

“Hey, but caud as it is the noo?”

“Much colder,” cried Steve.

“Then she’ll chust lie doon and dee,” said Watty piteously, “for she canna bear to thenk upo’ it. Cauder than it is the noo, an’ her han’s and foots like they are. Why, she’d be a’ one creat chilplain ivery wha’! What wad her mither say if she knew?”

The lads were out on the trampled snow about a hundred yards from theHvalross, which looked, with its snow-covered roofing, like some long, low house, out of which three tall masts had grown. And as they were talking a hail came from the canvas-covered doorway at the top of the gangway.

The resemblance to a low, long house was increased by the iron chimneys rising out through the snow and the big funnel of the boiler, from all of which black smoke was issuing; for, the ample supply of coal being so near, Captain Marsham had the engine furnace kept going for the sake of the heat given by the boilers, as well as from the fire itself. In fact, the engine-room and stoke-hole became favourite places with the men of an evening before bed, or after a long tramp round somewhere through the snow; for, now that they were fairly started in their battle with the arctic winter, the weather had to be very bad, and the wind very keen, for the crew to be kept out of their daily exercise.

The loud hail came from the doorway, and a curious-looking figure like a diver in a fur suit came down the well-made flight of ice steps, and advanced to join the two lads. The resemblance to a diver increased as it drew nearer, for the face was almost completely hidden by the visor-like arrangement of the round, helmet-shaped cap, and in place of a visor’s bars there were two large, round green-glass goggles which glistened in a peculiar manner when the object advanced, as if he were not only a diver, but a steam diver who was moved by some internal machinery which caused him to emit little puffs of steam at breathing intervals.

“Morning, Mr Handscombe,” cried Steve as he drew near.

“Morning, my lad; but look here, you are doing a very foolish thing. We’re below zero, and yet you’re standing about here talking as if it were summer.”

“We haven’t felt the cold, sir.”

“The more likely for the cold to be dangerous for you, my lad. A frost-bite comes on without the sufferer knowing about it, the cold making the part quite insensible to pain, and a bad bite may mean utter destruction of the tissue and the loss of even hands and feet.”

“Phwat!” cried Watty, forgetting his awe of the doctor in the horror of the announcement; “wad a man who was frost-bit lose her han’s or her foots?”

“Yes, if it were a bad case of freezing.”

“An’ wad her han’s or foots tummle off?”

“More likely the patient’s medical attendant would have to cut them off.”

“Coot her han’s an foots off? What wi’—chopper?”

“No,” said the doctor, smiling at the lad’s horrified looks; “they would be carefully taken off with a knife and saw. Surgeons are very careful.”

Watty groaned.

“It’s a’ ower wi’ her, Meester Stevey, an’ she’s ferry sorry she’s iver fote and ca’d her, for she’ll nivver see bonnie Scotland more.”

“Why not? What’s the matter with you, my lad?” said the doctor.

“She’s ferry pad, sir. Poth her foots an’ poth her han’s is frost-pitten.”

“What! and you did not tell me? Here, come back to the ship, and let me have a look.”

“Na, na, na; she’ll na gang wi’ ye!” cried Watty.

“But if they are frost-bitten I can perhaps do them good, and save you from a very bad injury. Come along.”

“Na, na; she’ll keep her han’s an’ foots on as lang as she can,” groaned the lad. “She winna let her tooch them.”

“Don’t be absurd!” said the doctor angrily. “Steve, did you know of this?”

“No, sir,” said the boy, fighting hard to conceal his mirth.

“I ought to have been told. Here, come along. Stop!”

“Ay, she’ll stop; she winna gang wi’ ye.”

“Are your feet really bad?”

“Ay, sir; but she shanna tooch them.”

“You have no business to walk,” said the doctor. “I must have you carried, sir.”

“Na, na; she’ll stay here.”

“Bah! don’t be absurd, boy. I know what is best for you. Here, Steve, my lad, go and fetch two of the men to carry him in. I’m glad I heard of this in time.”

“Dinna gang, Meester Stevey; oh, dinna gang!” cried Watty.

“I must; I’m ordered to go,” cried Steve quickly, as he ran back to the ship, and then hunted out Andrew and Hamish from the forecastle to come and bear the lad to the deck.

“She wass ferry well at breakfast,” said Andrew. “She must ha’ been eating something since then,” for Andrew’s ideas of illness were always in connection with eating or drinking too much. “Phwat will she say’s the matter?”

“He told the doctor he was very bad,” replied Steve, “and you’re to carry him.”

“She wass ferry sorry for the puir laddie, and she’ll carry her on her pack.”

But Andrew was not allowed to carry Watty in on his “pack,” but under the doctor’s instructions, and, in spite of the lad’s remonstrances, they passed hands under him, made him throw his arms over their shoulders, and prepared to start.

“She winna go!” cried Watty, struggling faintly.

“Take no notice of him,” said the doctor; “he must be carried in at once. Now off!”

Poor Watty was borne to the snow steps which rose right up to the gangway, carried in, and no sooner were they upon the gloomy deck, where they had to depend now for light upon a couple of swinging lanthorns, than the captain met them.

The place was quite misty with the men’s breath, which hung about like steam, in spite of the efforts made to keep the place warm; and things looked quite indistinct, especially about Watty, who had had to resign himself to his fate, and lay where he was placed upon the deck.

“What is it—a fall?” cried the captain; “broken leg?”

“No, frost-bitten,” said the doctor laconically. “Take off that fur coat, my lads.”

The huge sheep-skin coat was opened and drawn from Watty’s shoulders, leaving visible one of the blankets from his bunk doubled and rolled round him tightly, and held by a stout piece of cord that looked wonderfully like a portion of a walrus line.

“Watty laddie,” said Hamish, “she meant to keep hersel’ wairm,” and the men about laughed, all but Johannes and his companions, who were perfectly serious.

“Ay, she tid: ferry wairm as efer wass,” added Andrew. “Is it her nose?”

“That will do, my men; let me come,” said the doctor, kneeling down and hastily drawing off the big fur glove that Watty wore on his right hand, in spite, too, of a good deal of resistance on the lad’s part.

“Dinna lat him coot it off, Meester Stevey, sir,” he whispered. “Her mither wadna ken her if she went back to Ardnachree gin she had nae airms and legs.”

“Humph! dear me!” said the doctor; “bring that lanthorn closer. Very red and inflamed, but that one’s not frost-bitten.”

He held the hand close to the lanthorn, which was lowered by Andrew, and then knocked sidewise, for the lad sprang up sitting.

“Then she wadna chop it off?”

“No, no; lie still!” cried the doctor testily.

“You had better hold him, my lads,” said the captain; and Hamish and Andrew held him down again, bringing forth a fierce growl from Skene, who seemed to feel that if there was a struggle on he ought to be in it.

“Down, Skeny!” said Steve sharply; and the dog uttered an uneasy whine.

“Here, let me see the other hand,” cried the doctor.

“Na, that one’s the waur!” cried Watty excitedly. “She’s nae waur than this or my puir foots.”

“No nonsense,” said the doctor; and he firmly but gently held the boy’s other red and swollen hand to the light of the lanthorn.

“Frost-bitten?” said the captain; but the doctor did not answer save by a grunt.

“Ane’s waur than t’ither,” whimpered Watty.

“And now about your feet, my lad,” cried the doctor.

“Oh, they’re nane so bad as my han’s, sir; only dings and tangs o’ nichts.”

“There, get up, you young impostor!” cried the doctor, rising. “Frost-bitten?” he added, turning to the captain. “Nothing but a few chilblains. Here, you Steve,” he continued, button-holing the lad, “did you know there was nothing the matter but chilblains?”

“He told me his hands and feet were frost-bitten,” said Steve.

“Yes, but you knew better, sir,” said the doctor, who had hold of the boy’s arm and was marching him toward the cabin stairs.

“Well, I—” began Steve.

“Of course,” cried the doctor. “I saw the twinkle in your eye, my lad. Look here, don’t you play tricks with doctors; they get such chances for serving you out.”

“I suppose I ought to have spoken,” said Steve; “but it seemed so comic to see him so sure that he was frost-bitten, and it’s such a long time since we had a laugh that—”

“Let it rest, Handscombe,” said Captain Marsham good-humouredly. “Steve says it is a long time since he had a hearty laugh.”

“What!” cried the doctor. “Why, I heard him roaring with laughter not above an hour ago.”

Steve looked confused.

“Of course,” he said, colouring. “I’d forgotten that.”

“There, we don’t want any apologies, my boy,” said the captain. “Keep up your spirits, and other people’s if you can. I want every one to have a good store of health and strength before the long night comes.”

Chapter Thirty Seven.A Nocturnal Visitor.And that long night which was on everybody’s lips, and when silent in everybody’s mind, was coming on surely and gradually, but to all on board theHvalrossvery fast; for the captain never let the men rest. After every heavy fall of snow—and these came at shorter intervals—the crew were set to work banking it up against the sides of the ship.“But it will make it so much colder,” Steve protested.“No, my lad, so much warmer,” said the captain. “Do you know what is our greatest enemy here that we shall have to fight?”“Yes, the bears. They’ll smell the meat—Johannes said so; and you’re making an extremely easy way up to the deck.”“Well, yes, if they come. But if they do, we must be ready for them. We can keep them off from our fortress, I daresay. But that was not the enemy I meant.”“Oh, I see; you mean the cold.”“Yes, my boy; but in one form. I mean the wind. I daresay we could stand thirty degrees below zero without wind better than we could stand zero with wind. That is the enemy we have to fight against. The still cold will not affect us like the storms.”And so it passed, day after day. The men were out hunting one morning, when it was the coldest by the thermometer they had yet felt; but no one suffered. The men came back with their beards quite masses of ice, but the exercise in the still air kept them all aglow; while the very next day they had a walk along the lane they had trampled down in the snow as far as the piled-up ice-floe which had shut them up in the peaceful fiord, and coming back they had to face a piercing north wind which carried with it a fine snow-dust which seemed to cut into the skin.“The coldest day we have had yet,” said the doctor as they stepped on deck; but the captain went at once to the instruments which were placed ready for taking the observations duly entered in a journal, and turned back, shaking his head.“Twenty degrees warmer than it was yesterday.”“You amaze me,” said Mr Handscombe. “I never felt it so cold before.”“He meant twenty degrees not quite so cold, sir,” said Steve, who was rubbing and beating his half-numbed hands. “It isn’t warmer.”The wind dropped at sundown, if it could be called sundown, when that day they had only had some hours of glow over the icy rampart that shut them in. Then in the darkening sky the stars began to peer out one by one, till, as the sky grew perfectly black, the heavens were one blaze of glittering splendour.“Why, the stars seem double the size that they are at home,” said Steve, as he stood out on the snow steps for a little while before retiring to rest. “The sky looks so transparent, too, just as if you were peeping right in amongst them. Look, look!”He pointed at that which the others saw as soon as he, for a brilliant meteor suddenly flashed into sight, formed an arc in the sky, and disappeared, leaving a thin line of sparks behind it for a moment or two before they died out.“What was that?” cried Steve.“A meteor,” said the captain. “One of the little bodies which astronomers say burst into light in passing through our atmosphere. But come; the fireside is the best place on a night like this.”They retired to the cabin, after carefully tying the points of the canvas down; and, after a walk right forward by the dim light of the lanthorns to see that the men were all comfortable and well, the trio returned to the cabin, where the stove was crackling and roaring, and the hanging lamp, books, papers, and chess-board looked cheery and home-like.Skene followed them and stood at the door in a deprecating fashion, slowly waving his plume-like tail from side to side, and looking, Steve said, as if he would come in and stay if he were asked.“Yes, come in,” said the captain.The dog entered with a bound, and couched instantly at the front of the stove.“It’s getting intensely cold now,” said the captain, taking up the log-book to make an entry or two.“I thought so,” said the doctor; “but after my experience of this afternoon I was afraid I might be wrong again. What do you say, Steve?”“I think it’s as cold as we’ve had it, sir. We can see our breath here before this hot fire.”“Look here!” exclaimed Captain Marsham, as he sat, pen in hand, examining the inkstand.“What’s the matter? No ink?”“Ink? Yes; but look here—frozen, and in this cabin!”There was the fact; the ink-glass was partly full of splinters and scales of ice, while the bottom was like thick, melted black snow.“Well, we can’t have it any colder than that, can we?” asked Steve; and then he started, for Skene suddenly sprang to his feet, his hair rose about his throat, and he uttered a low growl.“What does he hear?” said the captain, after placing the ink to thaw.“I know,” cried Steve, “though I didn’t hear it. Andra must have got out his pipes, and is playing what he calls a chune.”“Very likely,” said the captain, turning the ink.“He doesn’t like it,” continued Steve. “I wonder any one can bear the noise.”“Tastes differ, my lad,” said the captain. “The men seem to like the sounds on these long, dark nights. I wish we had some one who could play the fiddle, too.”“Johannes can, and he has one with him,” said Steve eagerly.“That’s good news, for I want the lads to enjoy themselves, and a little music is the very thing for them. Quiet, dog, quiet! if you mean to stay here.”For Skene had gone excitedly to the closed door, placed his nose to the crack at the bottom, and growled fiercely.“It isn’t the pipes,” said Steve, springing up. “He hears something. What is it, Skene?”“R–rr–rr–ra!” growled the dog in low, menacing tones.“Now, doctor,” said the captain, setting the example of taking his double gun from the rack and slinging his cartridge-bag over his shoulder.The doctor followed the captain’s lead, and Steve stepped to the slings on the other side for his.“Coats on,” said the captain; “it’s bitter out on the deck. Keep him quiet, Steve!”Steve patted and whistled to the dog, who gave his tail a slow sweep from side to side, and then stood ready for action, while coats and caps were donned, and cartridges slipped into the breeches of the pieces. The captain laid his hand upon the door and was about to open it, when there was a gentle tap, and the light shone full upon the face of Johannes.“What’s the matter?” asked the captain sharply. “A bear, I think, sir,” said the Norseman in a low voice. “The scent of these animals is very fine, and the smell of the cooking has brought him perhaps. But it is very dark, and I’m not sure, sir. I hope it is not a false alarm. You heard it, then?” he said, as it seemed only then to strike him that the party had risen to go out on deck.“Skeny heard something and growled!” cried Steve. “Then there is one, gentlemen,” said the man quietly. “Will you come round and listen?”A word or two given in an impressive whisper to the dog silenced him, and he followed as if knowing his business exactly—that is, to steal up to the quarry and wait patiently until the fighting began and his pent-up excitement could have full play.Johannes led, and they all walked slowly along the port side of the deck, which looked dark and impressive with only one lanthorn burning close to the galley door. The canvas sides of the long, tent-like awning bulged in here and there as they passed some shroud or stay, and the roof hung low in places where the snow lay particularly heavy, while the cold that struck to them now in leaving the warm cabin was terrible. Every breath Steve drew felt as if it were charged with tiny needles, which tingled in his nostrils. A thick mist formed about them, and when they paused close to the lanthorn to listen for a minute the vapour of their breath rose and then fell down again in soft specks which the lad did not understand for the moment, and then saw to be tiny flakes of snow. But all was still save a murmur which came up from the closely shut engine-room hatch, where the men had collected about the glowing fire kept up without stint.Johannes went on round by the bows, and all followed, Steve shivering with cold and excitement; but they passed along, going aft now, close by the canvas wall, till they reached the cabin door again without a sound being heard.“False alarm, Johannes?” whispered the captain.The man smiled, and pointed to the dog, whose ears were twitching, and now standing up, bent forward, now lowered down, while his tail was waving slowly, and his muzzle was in the air with the nostrils distended.“Skeny says there’s a bear or something about,” said Steve softly.The dog turned to his master sharply upon hearing his name.“Where is it, Skeny?” whispered the boy, dropping on one knee with his arm on the dog’s neck.There was a low growl, and the dog ran back a dozen steps, and stood listening and twitching his ears as he gazed at one part of the canvas wall. They followed, and stood beside him, but all was perfectly quiet, the silence being strangely impressive in that intense misty cold. Then all at once there was a sound like a deep sigh, followed by a snuffling noise, and directly after the canvas wall was pressed in just above the bulwark. It was exactly as if some man of gigantic size was feeling over the canvas for a way in, his nails now scratching against it heavily. But the tough canvas did not tear, for it was thickly coated with ice caused by the condensation of breath, and moisture from without, freezing into a hard, thick mass. But it cracked and snapped and bent in, so that at any moment there was the possibility of its giving way.“Lanthorn, quick!” said the captain; and as Johannes brought it the captain’s and doctor’s pieces clicked; while, as soon as the light was held well up, they calculated as nearly as they could where the bear’s breast would be and fired together.A savage roar followed the reports, there was a scrambling rush, and then a great rustling; and as the men came running up excitedly the dog seemed to consider that he was free, and set up a furious barking as he ran to the tied-up canvas door by the gangway, and stood gazing at his master, waiting to be let out.“Hit, and scared away,” said the captain, re-loading. “Shall we go out and see?” said the doctor. “No, not till daylight,” replied the captain; “it is too risky to go out in the darkness. We can track it through the snow in the morning. Quiet the dog, Steve, my lad. There, go below, my lads; the cold here is terrible. Good-night.”Talking eagerly about this interruption the men hurried below, and as soon as the hatch was closed sounds arose which made Skene whine and Steve stop his ears as he hurried into the warm cabin; for Andrew had taken his pipes, and was making them skirl and drone in honour of the victory.

And that long night which was on everybody’s lips, and when silent in everybody’s mind, was coming on surely and gradually, but to all on board theHvalrossvery fast; for the captain never let the men rest. After every heavy fall of snow—and these came at shorter intervals—the crew were set to work banking it up against the sides of the ship.

“But it will make it so much colder,” Steve protested.

“No, my lad, so much warmer,” said the captain. “Do you know what is our greatest enemy here that we shall have to fight?”

“Yes, the bears. They’ll smell the meat—Johannes said so; and you’re making an extremely easy way up to the deck.”

“Well, yes, if they come. But if they do, we must be ready for them. We can keep them off from our fortress, I daresay. But that was not the enemy I meant.”

“Oh, I see; you mean the cold.”

“Yes, my boy; but in one form. I mean the wind. I daresay we could stand thirty degrees below zero without wind better than we could stand zero with wind. That is the enemy we have to fight against. The still cold will not affect us like the storms.”

And so it passed, day after day. The men were out hunting one morning, when it was the coldest by the thermometer they had yet felt; but no one suffered. The men came back with their beards quite masses of ice, but the exercise in the still air kept them all aglow; while the very next day they had a walk along the lane they had trampled down in the snow as far as the piled-up ice-floe which had shut them up in the peaceful fiord, and coming back they had to face a piercing north wind which carried with it a fine snow-dust which seemed to cut into the skin.

“The coldest day we have had yet,” said the doctor as they stepped on deck; but the captain went at once to the instruments which were placed ready for taking the observations duly entered in a journal, and turned back, shaking his head.

“Twenty degrees warmer than it was yesterday.”

“You amaze me,” said Mr Handscombe. “I never felt it so cold before.”

“He meant twenty degrees not quite so cold, sir,” said Steve, who was rubbing and beating his half-numbed hands. “It isn’t warmer.”

The wind dropped at sundown, if it could be called sundown, when that day they had only had some hours of glow over the icy rampart that shut them in. Then in the darkening sky the stars began to peer out one by one, till, as the sky grew perfectly black, the heavens were one blaze of glittering splendour.

“Why, the stars seem double the size that they are at home,” said Steve, as he stood out on the snow steps for a little while before retiring to rest. “The sky looks so transparent, too, just as if you were peeping right in amongst them. Look, look!”

He pointed at that which the others saw as soon as he, for a brilliant meteor suddenly flashed into sight, formed an arc in the sky, and disappeared, leaving a thin line of sparks behind it for a moment or two before they died out.

“What was that?” cried Steve.

“A meteor,” said the captain. “One of the little bodies which astronomers say burst into light in passing through our atmosphere. But come; the fireside is the best place on a night like this.”

They retired to the cabin, after carefully tying the points of the canvas down; and, after a walk right forward by the dim light of the lanthorns to see that the men were all comfortable and well, the trio returned to the cabin, where the stove was crackling and roaring, and the hanging lamp, books, papers, and chess-board looked cheery and home-like.

Skene followed them and stood at the door in a deprecating fashion, slowly waving his plume-like tail from side to side, and looking, Steve said, as if he would come in and stay if he were asked.

“Yes, come in,” said the captain.

The dog entered with a bound, and couched instantly at the front of the stove.

“It’s getting intensely cold now,” said the captain, taking up the log-book to make an entry or two.

“I thought so,” said the doctor; “but after my experience of this afternoon I was afraid I might be wrong again. What do you say, Steve?”

“I think it’s as cold as we’ve had it, sir. We can see our breath here before this hot fire.”

“Look here!” exclaimed Captain Marsham, as he sat, pen in hand, examining the inkstand.

“What’s the matter? No ink?”

“Ink? Yes; but look here—frozen, and in this cabin!”

There was the fact; the ink-glass was partly full of splinters and scales of ice, while the bottom was like thick, melted black snow.

“Well, we can’t have it any colder than that, can we?” asked Steve; and then he started, for Skene suddenly sprang to his feet, his hair rose about his throat, and he uttered a low growl.

“What does he hear?” said the captain, after placing the ink to thaw.

“I know,” cried Steve, “though I didn’t hear it. Andra must have got out his pipes, and is playing what he calls a chune.”

“Very likely,” said the captain, turning the ink.

“He doesn’t like it,” continued Steve. “I wonder any one can bear the noise.”

“Tastes differ, my lad,” said the captain. “The men seem to like the sounds on these long, dark nights. I wish we had some one who could play the fiddle, too.”

“Johannes can, and he has one with him,” said Steve eagerly.

“That’s good news, for I want the lads to enjoy themselves, and a little music is the very thing for them. Quiet, dog, quiet! if you mean to stay here.”

For Skene had gone excitedly to the closed door, placed his nose to the crack at the bottom, and growled fiercely.

“It isn’t the pipes,” said Steve, springing up. “He hears something. What is it, Skene?”

“R–rr–rr–ra!” growled the dog in low, menacing tones.

“Now, doctor,” said the captain, setting the example of taking his double gun from the rack and slinging his cartridge-bag over his shoulder.

The doctor followed the captain’s lead, and Steve stepped to the slings on the other side for his.

“Coats on,” said the captain; “it’s bitter out on the deck. Keep him quiet, Steve!”

Steve patted and whistled to the dog, who gave his tail a slow sweep from side to side, and then stood ready for action, while coats and caps were donned, and cartridges slipped into the breeches of the pieces. The captain laid his hand upon the door and was about to open it, when there was a gentle tap, and the light shone full upon the face of Johannes.

“What’s the matter?” asked the captain sharply. “A bear, I think, sir,” said the Norseman in a low voice. “The scent of these animals is very fine, and the smell of the cooking has brought him perhaps. But it is very dark, and I’m not sure, sir. I hope it is not a false alarm. You heard it, then?” he said, as it seemed only then to strike him that the party had risen to go out on deck.

“Skeny heard something and growled!” cried Steve. “Then there is one, gentlemen,” said the man quietly. “Will you come round and listen?”

A word or two given in an impressive whisper to the dog silenced him, and he followed as if knowing his business exactly—that is, to steal up to the quarry and wait patiently until the fighting began and his pent-up excitement could have full play.

Johannes led, and they all walked slowly along the port side of the deck, which looked dark and impressive with only one lanthorn burning close to the galley door. The canvas sides of the long, tent-like awning bulged in here and there as they passed some shroud or stay, and the roof hung low in places where the snow lay particularly heavy, while the cold that struck to them now in leaving the warm cabin was terrible. Every breath Steve drew felt as if it were charged with tiny needles, which tingled in his nostrils. A thick mist formed about them, and when they paused close to the lanthorn to listen for a minute the vapour of their breath rose and then fell down again in soft specks which the lad did not understand for the moment, and then saw to be tiny flakes of snow. But all was still save a murmur which came up from the closely shut engine-room hatch, where the men had collected about the glowing fire kept up without stint.

Johannes went on round by the bows, and all followed, Steve shivering with cold and excitement; but they passed along, going aft now, close by the canvas wall, till they reached the cabin door again without a sound being heard.

“False alarm, Johannes?” whispered the captain.

The man smiled, and pointed to the dog, whose ears were twitching, and now standing up, bent forward, now lowered down, while his tail was waving slowly, and his muzzle was in the air with the nostrils distended.

“Skeny says there’s a bear or something about,” said Steve softly.

The dog turned to his master sharply upon hearing his name.

“Where is it, Skeny?” whispered the boy, dropping on one knee with his arm on the dog’s neck.

There was a low growl, and the dog ran back a dozen steps, and stood listening and twitching his ears as he gazed at one part of the canvas wall. They followed, and stood beside him, but all was perfectly quiet, the silence being strangely impressive in that intense misty cold. Then all at once there was a sound like a deep sigh, followed by a snuffling noise, and directly after the canvas wall was pressed in just above the bulwark. It was exactly as if some man of gigantic size was feeling over the canvas for a way in, his nails now scratching against it heavily. But the tough canvas did not tear, for it was thickly coated with ice caused by the condensation of breath, and moisture from without, freezing into a hard, thick mass. But it cracked and snapped and bent in, so that at any moment there was the possibility of its giving way.

“Lanthorn, quick!” said the captain; and as Johannes brought it the captain’s and doctor’s pieces clicked; while, as soon as the light was held well up, they calculated as nearly as they could where the bear’s breast would be and fired together.

A savage roar followed the reports, there was a scrambling rush, and then a great rustling; and as the men came running up excitedly the dog seemed to consider that he was free, and set up a furious barking as he ran to the tied-up canvas door by the gangway, and stood gazing at his master, waiting to be let out.

“Hit, and scared away,” said the captain, re-loading. “Shall we go out and see?” said the doctor. “No, not till daylight,” replied the captain; “it is too risky to go out in the darkness. We can track it through the snow in the morning. Quiet the dog, Steve, my lad. There, go below, my lads; the cold here is terrible. Good-night.”

Talking eagerly about this interruption the men hurried below, and as soon as the hatch was closed sounds arose which made Skene whine and Steve stop his ears as he hurried into the warm cabin; for Andrew had taken his pipes, and was making them skirl and drone in honour of the victory.

Chapter Thirty Eight.In the Stern Grip.Steve slept soundly that night, and woke to find the blanket, pulled up close to his ears, stiff with hoar-frost, and the stinging, prickling sensation in his nostrils more acute than ever. There was no time spent in dressing, and all were soon ready for the breakfast brought in by the cook, who was loud in complaints about the way in which everything froze in the galley, even when the fire was roaring in the stove. But he was pretty cheerful, for he was a busy man with certain daily duties, whereas tasks had to be made for the men, who, on account of the intense cold and the solitary safety of their position, were not now even set to keep any of the regular watches.As soon as breakfast was despatched by lamplight, a start was made to see if the bear was anywhere near; and as the canvas door was opened with some difficulty, they stepped out into the semi-darkness to make for the other side of the vessel, about a hundred yards from which a hummock could be seen lying through the rising mist; and upon their approaching it the footsteps of the bear could be plainly traced in company with spots of blood, showing that the animal must have been seriously wounded.“He staggered and went down here,” said Johannes, pointing to unmistakable marks; and then, as the back of the animal stood up white as the snow around, Johannes began to trot forward.“Don’t do that!” cried Steve excitedly. “Let them go first with the guns.”“No fear, sir; he’s frozen stiff.”So it proved, but a horrifying sight presented itself; for there were footprints about, which the Norseman pointed out as belonging to three more bears, a large and two small ones, which had been devouring the one that had been shot, and now lay, partially eaten, in the snow.“Ugh! the cannibals!” exclaimed Steve, turning away in disgust.“Will they come back to the feast?” said the doctor. “They may, sir; but I think not. They have gorged themselves, and will have gone back to the cave they occupy, perhaps to go to sleep for a couple of months. I think they lie up during the very coldest weather, and I should say it was cold enough for that. Besides, this carcass is a mass of ice now.—It is very cold.”“Yes, and dark enough for anything.” But as the days—they could hardly be called days—glided by the last gleams of a dim twilight died out, till in the clearest times there was nothing but a faint dawn to be seen at twelve o’clock, where they had seen the rim of the sun for the last time, and the cold was intense, beyond anything they could have imagined. When the men were crowded together in the forecastle their breath rose in a thick mist, and Watty murmured bitterly to Steve about it, for he said it was a shame that the deck was not freshly cleaned.“A’ through snaw-storm last neet,” he said, “the snaw came tumm’ling doon upo’ our bets till she was a’ wet.”“But there was no snowstorm last night, Watty.”“Why, she saw it wi’ her ain een.”“It was only the frozen breath,” said Steve, as he recalled his experience on the deck the night the bear was shot.“Ah, weel, she dinna ken. Maybe she’s richt; but the cauld is chust awfu’. Tid she ken the McByle burnt her foots last nicht?”“What, Andra? No.”“Oh ay, she tid. She was sitting by the fire trying to blaw the ice oot o’ the pipes, for she couldna ket the pipes to skirl. She was sitting leuking on, when she smelt something oot. Chacobsen she says, ‘She’ll hae to mind, Andra, for she’s purning her foots’; and Andra she says tat Chacobsen should keep her chokes to hersel when she’s pusy wi’ the pipes; and chust then Chohannes lays holt upo’ her py the shouthers an’ pu’s her ower, and shows her the toes wass purning, and she tidn’t know.”“Is this true, Watty?”“She can chust co and leuk the chief’s foots an’ see. Why, the tins o’ meat all coom oot lumps o’ ice, and the soup freezes in the galley where the fire’s purning. She niver knew it could pe sae caud, or she’d ha’ stoppit at hame.”Watty was quite right, for the cold struck in everywhere; and if it had not been for the great fire kept going in the engine furnace, the ship would have been unbearable. For the cold produced so utter an insensibility in the extremities that the doctor had to keep a very watchful eye over the men, several of whom were slightly frost-bitten.But he was well backed up by the four Norwegians, who had learned in their own severe winters something of the power of the frost; and hence it was that, when the darkness set in entirely for their four months’ night, all were still in excellent health.“Help me, Steve, in every way you can, my lad. Let’s keep the men’s spirits up till the twenty-first of December.”“You mean till the end of March,” said Steve gloomily.“No, my lad; as I said, till the twenty-first of December. Only get that day past, and I can say to the men, ‘the sun is on its way back; patience, and we shall once more have the light.’”“What shall I do to help you?”“First of all, cast off that despondent way, my lad, and set others an example. You, I, and Mr Handscombe can’t afford to be low-spirited. There: be yourself, cheery and bright. I’m ready to encourage you in starting games or sports. Anything to keep the men in a cheerful state.”Steve tried, but in spite of moon and star-shine, more brilliant than any present had ever seen before, abundant food, long walks for exercise whenever the weather would permit, and, above all, encouragement to sleep as long as they felt disposed, there was a peculiar depression steadily creeping over the men with which it grew harder and harder to battle.At first they were merry and cheery enough in the glow of the fire, they sang all the songs they knew, and joined in chorus; the fiddle was heard going, and often enough the tune kept time with the beating of feet, as the men tried the steps of some hornpipes. And on other nights Andrew’s pipes made most dismal sounds, to the great delight of the Scots; but after the mishap to one of his feet, a burn which refused to heal, “ta pipes” found no more favour in the Highlander’s eyes, and he grew low-spirited and irritable to a degree that made him snatch the pipes one day from Watty, who had taken them down “to hae a blaw,” as he called it, and strike him across the head with the big drone.Johannes was taken into consultation in the cabin, where they were in pretty good spirits, Steve being occupied in helping the doctor and captain in keeping the log, and noting down the observations they made with the instruments and on the weather; but the Norseman shook his head.“I’m trying all I know, sir,” he said; “but it’s a hard task. I’m only an unlearned man, and do not understand these things well; but it seems to me, sir, that nothing was ever meant to live up here in the coldest time. The birds have gone south, we have not seen the track of deer or wolf for a month, and it is six weeks now since we have seen the footprint of a bear. It is nature’s long, dark, cold night, sir, where nothing is meant to live.”“Humph!” said the captain shortly; “and so you are going to give in too, and turn coward, eh?”“No, sir,” said the Norseman firmly; “and you know that I do not deserve those words. Jakobsen and our two Nordoe brothers have done all they can to keep up the men’s spirits, and we shall do this, whether we live or die, to the end.”“Of course you will, Johannes,” said Steve warmly, as he was aware of a peculiar sensation in his eyes; and then felt brighter than he had for days, for the captain made a quick movement and snatched off the thick fur glove he was obliged to wear in the heated cabin, even while he wrote, for the ink still froze at a short distance from the fire.Captain Marsham’s movement was to hold out his hand to the Norseman, and have it seized in a grip of iron.“I beg your pardon, Johannes,” he said. “My words were unjust.”“Say no more, sir,” said the man, smiling. “You are the captain, and have a right to speak words to bring your men up to their work.”“But they are not needed with you, my lad,” said the captain warmly. “But the others, what can we do to stir them out of this depressed state?”“Work them, sir. We want some great thing to draw them out of thinking about themselves. Walks and ordinary work depress them. We want some great call made upon them for their help.”“Yes; and how can that call be made?”Johannes shook his head. The suggestion was excellent, but it seemed to be impossible to carry out; for it was madness to attempt toilsome expeditions over the ice when at any hour they were liable to be overtaken by one of the terrible, blinding snowstorms of which they had had several examples since the darkness had set in; so after much consideration Captain Marsham came to the conclusion that it was hard enough work to preserve existence with the ship as a place of refuge, always within touch, without running risks which might prove fatal to the whole party.“You are quite right,” said the doctor, who had remained silent. “I do not doubt our power to make long expeditions, but they would always be terribly risky; and unless there was some object in view that warranted the work, I should not venture.”“You mean that?” said the captain.“I do. If a man gets frost-bitten anywhere within range, we can bring him back, and soon take proper steps to save the injured limb or part. On the other hand, suppose we are overtaken by a storm and darkness, and forced to shelter somewhere under the lee of the rocks or ice, how many of us would be able to reach the ship after the storm was over? No; I see nothing for us to do but take what exercise we can in the moonlight, and then come back to our quarters, which we must make as snug as we can.”“And be thankful that we have such quarters,” said the captain. “What do you say, Steve?”The lad started at this first appeal, but spoke out.“I should like to try and search again for the crew of theIce Blink, sir,” he said.“What could we do better than we have done, my boy? We could not reach the parts that we journeyed over in the summer, that is certain, and to do any good we ought to go farther. No, my lad, we must wait.”

Steve slept soundly that night, and woke to find the blanket, pulled up close to his ears, stiff with hoar-frost, and the stinging, prickling sensation in his nostrils more acute than ever. There was no time spent in dressing, and all were soon ready for the breakfast brought in by the cook, who was loud in complaints about the way in which everything froze in the galley, even when the fire was roaring in the stove. But he was pretty cheerful, for he was a busy man with certain daily duties, whereas tasks had to be made for the men, who, on account of the intense cold and the solitary safety of their position, were not now even set to keep any of the regular watches.

As soon as breakfast was despatched by lamplight, a start was made to see if the bear was anywhere near; and as the canvas door was opened with some difficulty, they stepped out into the semi-darkness to make for the other side of the vessel, about a hundred yards from which a hummock could be seen lying through the rising mist; and upon their approaching it the footsteps of the bear could be plainly traced in company with spots of blood, showing that the animal must have been seriously wounded.

“He staggered and went down here,” said Johannes, pointing to unmistakable marks; and then, as the back of the animal stood up white as the snow around, Johannes began to trot forward.

“Don’t do that!” cried Steve excitedly. “Let them go first with the guns.”

“No fear, sir; he’s frozen stiff.”

So it proved, but a horrifying sight presented itself; for there were footprints about, which the Norseman pointed out as belonging to three more bears, a large and two small ones, which had been devouring the one that had been shot, and now lay, partially eaten, in the snow.

“Ugh! the cannibals!” exclaimed Steve, turning away in disgust.

“Will they come back to the feast?” said the doctor. “They may, sir; but I think not. They have gorged themselves, and will have gone back to the cave they occupy, perhaps to go to sleep for a couple of months. I think they lie up during the very coldest weather, and I should say it was cold enough for that. Besides, this carcass is a mass of ice now.—It is very cold.”

“Yes, and dark enough for anything.” But as the days—they could hardly be called days—glided by the last gleams of a dim twilight died out, till in the clearest times there was nothing but a faint dawn to be seen at twelve o’clock, where they had seen the rim of the sun for the last time, and the cold was intense, beyond anything they could have imagined. When the men were crowded together in the forecastle their breath rose in a thick mist, and Watty murmured bitterly to Steve about it, for he said it was a shame that the deck was not freshly cleaned.

“A’ through snaw-storm last neet,” he said, “the snaw came tumm’ling doon upo’ our bets till she was a’ wet.”

“But there was no snowstorm last night, Watty.”

“Why, she saw it wi’ her ain een.”

“It was only the frozen breath,” said Steve, as he recalled his experience on the deck the night the bear was shot.

“Ah, weel, she dinna ken. Maybe she’s richt; but the cauld is chust awfu’. Tid she ken the McByle burnt her foots last nicht?”

“What, Andra? No.”

“Oh ay, she tid. She was sitting by the fire trying to blaw the ice oot o’ the pipes, for she couldna ket the pipes to skirl. She was sitting leuking on, when she smelt something oot. Chacobsen she says, ‘She’ll hae to mind, Andra, for she’s purning her foots’; and Andra she says tat Chacobsen should keep her chokes to hersel when she’s pusy wi’ the pipes; and chust then Chohannes lays holt upo’ her py the shouthers an’ pu’s her ower, and shows her the toes wass purning, and she tidn’t know.”

“Is this true, Watty?”

“She can chust co and leuk the chief’s foots an’ see. Why, the tins o’ meat all coom oot lumps o’ ice, and the soup freezes in the galley where the fire’s purning. She niver knew it could pe sae caud, or she’d ha’ stoppit at hame.”

Watty was quite right, for the cold struck in everywhere; and if it had not been for the great fire kept going in the engine furnace, the ship would have been unbearable. For the cold produced so utter an insensibility in the extremities that the doctor had to keep a very watchful eye over the men, several of whom were slightly frost-bitten.

But he was well backed up by the four Norwegians, who had learned in their own severe winters something of the power of the frost; and hence it was that, when the darkness set in entirely for their four months’ night, all were still in excellent health.

“Help me, Steve, in every way you can, my lad. Let’s keep the men’s spirits up till the twenty-first of December.”

“You mean till the end of March,” said Steve gloomily.

“No, my lad; as I said, till the twenty-first of December. Only get that day past, and I can say to the men, ‘the sun is on its way back; patience, and we shall once more have the light.’”

“What shall I do to help you?”

“First of all, cast off that despondent way, my lad, and set others an example. You, I, and Mr Handscombe can’t afford to be low-spirited. There: be yourself, cheery and bright. I’m ready to encourage you in starting games or sports. Anything to keep the men in a cheerful state.”

Steve tried, but in spite of moon and star-shine, more brilliant than any present had ever seen before, abundant food, long walks for exercise whenever the weather would permit, and, above all, encouragement to sleep as long as they felt disposed, there was a peculiar depression steadily creeping over the men with which it grew harder and harder to battle.

At first they were merry and cheery enough in the glow of the fire, they sang all the songs they knew, and joined in chorus; the fiddle was heard going, and often enough the tune kept time with the beating of feet, as the men tried the steps of some hornpipes. And on other nights Andrew’s pipes made most dismal sounds, to the great delight of the Scots; but after the mishap to one of his feet, a burn which refused to heal, “ta pipes” found no more favour in the Highlander’s eyes, and he grew low-spirited and irritable to a degree that made him snatch the pipes one day from Watty, who had taken them down “to hae a blaw,” as he called it, and strike him across the head with the big drone.

Johannes was taken into consultation in the cabin, where they were in pretty good spirits, Steve being occupied in helping the doctor and captain in keeping the log, and noting down the observations they made with the instruments and on the weather; but the Norseman shook his head.

“I’m trying all I know, sir,” he said; “but it’s a hard task. I’m only an unlearned man, and do not understand these things well; but it seems to me, sir, that nothing was ever meant to live up here in the coldest time. The birds have gone south, we have not seen the track of deer or wolf for a month, and it is six weeks now since we have seen the footprint of a bear. It is nature’s long, dark, cold night, sir, where nothing is meant to live.”

“Humph!” said the captain shortly; “and so you are going to give in too, and turn coward, eh?”

“No, sir,” said the Norseman firmly; “and you know that I do not deserve those words. Jakobsen and our two Nordoe brothers have done all they can to keep up the men’s spirits, and we shall do this, whether we live or die, to the end.”

“Of course you will, Johannes,” said Steve warmly, as he was aware of a peculiar sensation in his eyes; and then felt brighter than he had for days, for the captain made a quick movement and snatched off the thick fur glove he was obliged to wear in the heated cabin, even while he wrote, for the ink still froze at a short distance from the fire.

Captain Marsham’s movement was to hold out his hand to the Norseman, and have it seized in a grip of iron.

“I beg your pardon, Johannes,” he said. “My words were unjust.”

“Say no more, sir,” said the man, smiling. “You are the captain, and have a right to speak words to bring your men up to their work.”

“But they are not needed with you, my lad,” said the captain warmly. “But the others, what can we do to stir them out of this depressed state?”

“Work them, sir. We want some great thing to draw them out of thinking about themselves. Walks and ordinary work depress them. We want some great call made upon them for their help.”

“Yes; and how can that call be made?”

Johannes shook his head. The suggestion was excellent, but it seemed to be impossible to carry out; for it was madness to attempt toilsome expeditions over the ice when at any hour they were liable to be overtaken by one of the terrible, blinding snowstorms of which they had had several examples since the darkness had set in; so after much consideration Captain Marsham came to the conclusion that it was hard enough work to preserve existence with the ship as a place of refuge, always within touch, without running risks which might prove fatal to the whole party.

“You are quite right,” said the doctor, who had remained silent. “I do not doubt our power to make long expeditions, but they would always be terribly risky; and unless there was some object in view that warranted the work, I should not venture.”

“You mean that?” said the captain.

“I do. If a man gets frost-bitten anywhere within range, we can bring him back, and soon take proper steps to save the injured limb or part. On the other hand, suppose we are overtaken by a storm and darkness, and forced to shelter somewhere under the lee of the rocks or ice, how many of us would be able to reach the ship after the storm was over? No; I see nothing for us to do but take what exercise we can in the moonlight, and then come back to our quarters, which we must make as snug as we can.”

“And be thankful that we have such quarters,” said the captain. “What do you say, Steve?”

The lad started at this first appeal, but spoke out.

“I should like to try and search again for the crew of theIce Blink, sir,” he said.

“What could we do better than we have done, my boy? We could not reach the parts that we journeyed over in the summer, that is certain, and to do any good we ought to go farther. No, my lad, we must wait.”

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