Chapter Four.The Chase and the Battle—The Chances and Dangers of Whaling War—Buzzby dives for his Life and saves it—So does the Whale and loses it—An Anxious Night which terminates happily, though with a Heavy Loss.The chase was not a long one, for, while the boats were rowing swiftly towards the whale, the whale was, all unconsciously, swimming towards the boats.“Give way now, lads, give way,” said the captain in a suppressed voice; “bend your backs, boys, and don’t let the mate beat us.”The three boats flew over the sea, as the men strained their muscles to the utmost, and for some time they kept almost in line, being pretty equally matched; but gradually the captain shot ahead, and it became evident that his harpooner, Amos Parr, was to have the honour of harpooning the first whale. Amos pulled the bow oar, and behind him was the tub with the line coiled away and the harpoon bent on to it. Being an experienced whaleman, he evinced no sign of excitement, save in the brilliancy of his dark eye and a very slight flush on his bronzed face. They had now neared the whale, and ceased rowing for a moment lest they should miss it when down.“There she goes!” cried Fred in a tone of intense excitement, as he caught sight of the whale not more than fifty yards ahead of the boat.“Now, boys,” said the captain in a hoarse whisper, “spring hard, lay back hard, I say—stand up!”At the last word Amos Parr sprang to his feet and seized the harpoon; the boat ran right on to the whale’s back, and in an instant Parr sent two irons to the hitches into the fish.“Stern all!” The men backed their oars with all their might, in order to avoid the flukes of the wounded monster of the deep, as it plunged down headlong into the sea, taking the line out perpendicularly like lightning. This was a moment of great danger. The friction of the line as it passed the loggerhead was so great that Parr had to keep constantly pouring water on it to prevent its catching fire. A hitch in the line at that time, as it flew out of the tub, or any accidental entanglement, would have dragged the boat and crew right down. Many such fatal accidents occur to whalers, and many a poor fellow has had a foot or an arm torn off, or been dragged overboard and drowned, in consequence of getting entangled. One of the men stood ready with a small hatchet to cut the line in a moment, if necessary, for whales sometimes run out all that is in a boat at the first plunge, and should none of the other boats be at hand to lend a second line to attach to the one nearly expended, there is nothing for it but to cut. On the present occasion, however, none of these accidents befel the men of the captain’s boat. The line ran all clear, and long before it was exhausted the whale ceased to descend, and theslackwas hauled rapidly in.Meanwhile the other boats pulled up to the scene of action, and prepared to strike the instant the fish should rise to the surface. It appeared suddenly, not twenty yards from the mate’s boat, where Buzzby, who was harpooner, stood in the bow ready to give it the iron.“Spring, lads, spring!” shouted the mate, as the whale spouted into the air a thick stream of water. The boat dashed up, and Buzzby planted his harpoon vigorously. Instantly the broad flukes of the tail were tossed into the air, and, for a single second, spread like a canopy over Buzzby’s head. There was no escape. The quick eye of the whaleman saw at a glance that the effort to back out was hopeless. He bent his head, and the next moment was deep down in the waves. Just as he disappeared the flukes descended on the spot which he had left and cut the bow of the boat completely away, sending the stern high into the air with a violence that tossed men, and oars, and shattered planks, and cordage, flying over the monster’s back into the seething caldron of foam around him. It was apparently a scene of the most complete and instantaneous destruction, yet, strange to say, not a man was lost. A few seconds after, the white foam of the sea was dotted with black heads, as the men rose one by one to the surface, and struck out for floating oars and pieces of the wrecked boat.“They’re lost!” cried Fred Ellice in a voice of horror.“Not a bit of it, youngster; they’re safe enough, I’ll warrant,” replied the captain, as his own boat flew past the spot, towed by the whale. “Pay out, Amos Parr; give him line, or he’ll tear the bows out of us.”“Ay, ay, sir!” sang out Amos, as he sat coolly pouring water on the loggerhead, round which a coil of the rope was whizzing like lightning; “all right! The mate’s men are all safe, sir; I counted them as we shot past, and I seed Buzzby come up last of all, blowin’ like a grampus; and small wonder, considerin’ the dive he took.”“Take another turn of the coil, Amos, and hold on,” said the captain.The harpooneer obeyed, and away they went after the whale like a rocket, with a tremendous strain on the line and a bank of white foam gurgling up to the edge of the gunwale that every moment threatened to fill the boat and sink her. Such a catastrophe is not of unfrequent occurrence, when whalemen, thus towed by a whale, are tempted to hold on too long; and many instances have happened of boats and their crews being in this way dragged under water and lost. Fortunately the whale dashed horizontally through the water, so that the boat was able to hold on and follow, and in a short time the creature paused and rose for air. Again the men bent to their oars, and the rope was hauled in until they came quite close to the fish. This time a harpoon was thrown and a deep lance-thrust given which penetrated to the vital parts of its huge carcass, as was evidenced by the blood which it spouted, and the convulsive lashing of its tremendous tail.While the captain’s crew were thus engaged, Saunders, the second mate, observing from the ship the accident to the first mate’s boat, sent off a party of men to the rescue, thus setting free the third boat, which was steered by a strapping fellow named Peter Grim, to follow up the chase. Peter Grim was the ship’s carpenter, and he took after his name. He was, as the sailors expressed it, a “grim customer”, being burnt by the sun to a deep rich brown colour, besides being covered nearly up to the eyes with a thick coal-black beard and moustache, which completely concealed every part of his visage except his prominent nose and dark, fiery-looking eyes. He was an immense man, the largest in the ship, probably, if we except the Scotch second mate Saunders, to whom he was about equal in all respects—except argument. Like most big men, he was peaceable and good-humoured.“Look alive now, lads,” said Grim, as the men pulled towards the whale; “we’ll get a chance yet, we shall, if you give way like tigers. Split your sides, boys—do—that’s it. Ah! there she goes right down. Pull away now, and be ready when she rises.”As he spoke the whale suddenlysounded, that is, went perpendicularly down, as it had done when first struck, and continued to descend until most of the line in the captain’s boat was run out.“Hoist an oar,” cried Amos Parr, as he saw the coil diminishing. Grim observed the signal of distress, and encouraged his men to use their utmost exertions. “Another oar!—another!” shouted Parr, as the whale continued its headlong descent. “Stand by to cut the line,” said Captain Guy with compressed lips. “No! hold on, hold on!”At this moment, having drawn down more than a thousand fathoms of rope, the whale slackened its speed, and Parr, taking another coil round the loggerhead, held on until the boat was almost dragged under water. Then the line became loose, and the slack was hauled in rapidly. Meanwhile Grim’s boat had reached the spot and the men now lay on their oars at some distance ahead, ready to pull the instant the whale should show itself. Up it came, not twenty yards ahead. One short, energetic pull, and the second boat sent a harpoon deep into it, while Grim sprang to the bow and thrust a lance with deadly force deep into the carcass. The monster sent up a stream of mingled blood, oil, and water, and whirled its huge tail so violently that the sound could be heard a mile off. Before it dived again, the captain’s boat came up, and succeeded in making fast another harpoon, while several additional lance-thrusts were given with effect, and it seemed as if the battle were about to terminate, when suddenly the whale struck the sea with a clap like thunder, and darted away once more like a rocket to windward, tearing the two boats after it as if they had been egg-shells.Meanwhile a change had come over the scene. The sun had set, red and lowering, behind a bank of dark clouds, and there was every appearance of stormy weather; but as yet it was nearly calm, and the ship was unable to beat up against the light breeze in the wake of the two boats, which were soon far away on the horizon. Then a furious gust arose and passed away; a dark cloud covered the sky as night fell, and soon boats and whale were utterly lost to view.“Waes me,” cried the big Scotch mate, as he ran up and down the quarter-deck wringing his hands, “whatisto be done noo?”Saunders spoke a mongrel kind of language—a mixture of Scotch and English,—in which, although the Scotch words were sparsely scattered, the Scotch accent was very strong.“How’s her head?”“Nor’-nor’-west, sir.”“Keep her there, then. Maybe, if the wind holds stiddy, we may overhaul them before it’s quite dark.”Although Saunders was really in a state of the utmost consternation at this unexpected termination to the whale-hunt, and expressed the agitation of his feelings pretty freely, he was too thorough a seaman to neglect anything that was necessary to be done under the circumstances. He took the exact bearings of the point at which the boats had disappeared, and during the night, which turned out gusty and threatening, kept making short tacks, while lanterns were hung at the mast-heads, and a huge torch, or rather a small bonfire, of tarred materials was slung at the end of a spar and thrust out over the stern of the ship. But for many hours there was no sign of the boats, and the crew of theDolphinbegan to entertain the most gloomy forebodings regarding them.At length, towards morning, a small speck of light was noticed on the weather-beam. It flickered for a moment, and then disappeared.“Did ye see yon?” said Saunders to Mivins in an agitated whisper, laying his huge hand on the shoulder of that worthy. “Down your helm,” (to the steersman).“Ay, ay, sir!”“Stiddy!”“Steady it is, sir!”Mivins’ face, which for some hours had worn an expression of deep anxiety, relaxed into a bland smile, and he smote his thigh powerfully as he exclaimed: “That’s them, sir,andno mistake! What’s your opinion, Mr Saunders!”The second mate peered earnestly in the direction in which the light had been seen, and Mivins, turning in the same direction, screwed up his visage into a knot of earnest attention so complicated and intense that it seemed as if no human power could evermore unravel it.“There it goes again!” cried Saunders, as the light flashed distinctly over the sea.“Down helm; back fore-top-sails!” he shouted, springing forward; “lower away the boat there!”In a few seconds the ship was hove to, and a boat, with a lantern fixed to an oar, was plunging over the swell in the direction of the light. Sooner than was expected they came up with it, and a hurrah in the distance told that all was right.“Here we are, thank God,” cried Captain Guy, “safe and sound! We don’t require assistance, Mr Saunders; pull for the ship.”A short pull sufficed to bring the three boats alongside, and in a few seconds more the crew were congratulating their comrades with that mingled feeling of deep heartiness and a disposition to jest which is characteristic of men who are used to danger, and think lightly of it after it is over.“We’ve lost our fish, however,” remarked Captain Guy, as he passed the crew on his way to the cabin; “but we must hope for better luck next time.”“Well, well,” said one of the men, wringing the water out of his wet clothes as he walked forward, “we got a good laugh at Peter Grim, if we got nothin’ else by our trip.”“How was that, Jack?”“Why, ye see, jist before the whale gave in, it sent up a spout o’ blood and oil as thick as the main-mast, and, as luck would have it, down it came slap on the head of Grim, drenchin’ him from head to foot, and makin’ him as red as a lobster.”“’Ow did you lose the fish, sir?” enquired Mivins, as our hero sprang up the side, followed by Singleton.“Lost him as men lose money in railway speculations nowadays. Wesankhim, and that was the last of it. After he had towed us I don’t know how far-out of sight of the ship at any rate,—he suddenly stopped, and we pulled up and gave him some tremendous digs with the lances, until he spouted jets of blood, and we made sure of him, when, all at once, down he went head foremost like a cannon-ball, and took all the line out of both boats, so we had to cut, and he never came up again. At least if he did it became so dark that we never saw him. Then we pulled to where we thought the ship was, and, after rowing nearly all night, caught sight of your lights; and here we are, dead-tired, wet to the skin, and minus about two miles of whale-line and three harpoons.”
The chase was not a long one, for, while the boats were rowing swiftly towards the whale, the whale was, all unconsciously, swimming towards the boats.
“Give way now, lads, give way,” said the captain in a suppressed voice; “bend your backs, boys, and don’t let the mate beat us.”
The three boats flew over the sea, as the men strained their muscles to the utmost, and for some time they kept almost in line, being pretty equally matched; but gradually the captain shot ahead, and it became evident that his harpooner, Amos Parr, was to have the honour of harpooning the first whale. Amos pulled the bow oar, and behind him was the tub with the line coiled away and the harpoon bent on to it. Being an experienced whaleman, he evinced no sign of excitement, save in the brilliancy of his dark eye and a very slight flush on his bronzed face. They had now neared the whale, and ceased rowing for a moment lest they should miss it when down.
“There she goes!” cried Fred in a tone of intense excitement, as he caught sight of the whale not more than fifty yards ahead of the boat.
“Now, boys,” said the captain in a hoarse whisper, “spring hard, lay back hard, I say—stand up!”
At the last word Amos Parr sprang to his feet and seized the harpoon; the boat ran right on to the whale’s back, and in an instant Parr sent two irons to the hitches into the fish.
“Stern all!” The men backed their oars with all their might, in order to avoid the flukes of the wounded monster of the deep, as it plunged down headlong into the sea, taking the line out perpendicularly like lightning. This was a moment of great danger. The friction of the line as it passed the loggerhead was so great that Parr had to keep constantly pouring water on it to prevent its catching fire. A hitch in the line at that time, as it flew out of the tub, or any accidental entanglement, would have dragged the boat and crew right down. Many such fatal accidents occur to whalers, and many a poor fellow has had a foot or an arm torn off, or been dragged overboard and drowned, in consequence of getting entangled. One of the men stood ready with a small hatchet to cut the line in a moment, if necessary, for whales sometimes run out all that is in a boat at the first plunge, and should none of the other boats be at hand to lend a second line to attach to the one nearly expended, there is nothing for it but to cut. On the present occasion, however, none of these accidents befel the men of the captain’s boat. The line ran all clear, and long before it was exhausted the whale ceased to descend, and theslackwas hauled rapidly in.
Meanwhile the other boats pulled up to the scene of action, and prepared to strike the instant the fish should rise to the surface. It appeared suddenly, not twenty yards from the mate’s boat, where Buzzby, who was harpooner, stood in the bow ready to give it the iron.
“Spring, lads, spring!” shouted the mate, as the whale spouted into the air a thick stream of water. The boat dashed up, and Buzzby planted his harpoon vigorously. Instantly the broad flukes of the tail were tossed into the air, and, for a single second, spread like a canopy over Buzzby’s head. There was no escape. The quick eye of the whaleman saw at a glance that the effort to back out was hopeless. He bent his head, and the next moment was deep down in the waves. Just as he disappeared the flukes descended on the spot which he had left and cut the bow of the boat completely away, sending the stern high into the air with a violence that tossed men, and oars, and shattered planks, and cordage, flying over the monster’s back into the seething caldron of foam around him. It was apparently a scene of the most complete and instantaneous destruction, yet, strange to say, not a man was lost. A few seconds after, the white foam of the sea was dotted with black heads, as the men rose one by one to the surface, and struck out for floating oars and pieces of the wrecked boat.
“They’re lost!” cried Fred Ellice in a voice of horror.
“Not a bit of it, youngster; they’re safe enough, I’ll warrant,” replied the captain, as his own boat flew past the spot, towed by the whale. “Pay out, Amos Parr; give him line, or he’ll tear the bows out of us.”
“Ay, ay, sir!” sang out Amos, as he sat coolly pouring water on the loggerhead, round which a coil of the rope was whizzing like lightning; “all right! The mate’s men are all safe, sir; I counted them as we shot past, and I seed Buzzby come up last of all, blowin’ like a grampus; and small wonder, considerin’ the dive he took.”
“Take another turn of the coil, Amos, and hold on,” said the captain.
The harpooneer obeyed, and away they went after the whale like a rocket, with a tremendous strain on the line and a bank of white foam gurgling up to the edge of the gunwale that every moment threatened to fill the boat and sink her. Such a catastrophe is not of unfrequent occurrence, when whalemen, thus towed by a whale, are tempted to hold on too long; and many instances have happened of boats and their crews being in this way dragged under water and lost. Fortunately the whale dashed horizontally through the water, so that the boat was able to hold on and follow, and in a short time the creature paused and rose for air. Again the men bent to their oars, and the rope was hauled in until they came quite close to the fish. This time a harpoon was thrown and a deep lance-thrust given which penetrated to the vital parts of its huge carcass, as was evidenced by the blood which it spouted, and the convulsive lashing of its tremendous tail.
While the captain’s crew were thus engaged, Saunders, the second mate, observing from the ship the accident to the first mate’s boat, sent off a party of men to the rescue, thus setting free the third boat, which was steered by a strapping fellow named Peter Grim, to follow up the chase. Peter Grim was the ship’s carpenter, and he took after his name. He was, as the sailors expressed it, a “grim customer”, being burnt by the sun to a deep rich brown colour, besides being covered nearly up to the eyes with a thick coal-black beard and moustache, which completely concealed every part of his visage except his prominent nose and dark, fiery-looking eyes. He was an immense man, the largest in the ship, probably, if we except the Scotch second mate Saunders, to whom he was about equal in all respects—except argument. Like most big men, he was peaceable and good-humoured.
“Look alive now, lads,” said Grim, as the men pulled towards the whale; “we’ll get a chance yet, we shall, if you give way like tigers. Split your sides, boys—do—that’s it. Ah! there she goes right down. Pull away now, and be ready when she rises.”
As he spoke the whale suddenlysounded, that is, went perpendicularly down, as it had done when first struck, and continued to descend until most of the line in the captain’s boat was run out.
“Hoist an oar,” cried Amos Parr, as he saw the coil diminishing. Grim observed the signal of distress, and encouraged his men to use their utmost exertions. “Another oar!—another!” shouted Parr, as the whale continued its headlong descent. “Stand by to cut the line,” said Captain Guy with compressed lips. “No! hold on, hold on!”
At this moment, having drawn down more than a thousand fathoms of rope, the whale slackened its speed, and Parr, taking another coil round the loggerhead, held on until the boat was almost dragged under water. Then the line became loose, and the slack was hauled in rapidly. Meanwhile Grim’s boat had reached the spot and the men now lay on their oars at some distance ahead, ready to pull the instant the whale should show itself. Up it came, not twenty yards ahead. One short, energetic pull, and the second boat sent a harpoon deep into it, while Grim sprang to the bow and thrust a lance with deadly force deep into the carcass. The monster sent up a stream of mingled blood, oil, and water, and whirled its huge tail so violently that the sound could be heard a mile off. Before it dived again, the captain’s boat came up, and succeeded in making fast another harpoon, while several additional lance-thrusts were given with effect, and it seemed as if the battle were about to terminate, when suddenly the whale struck the sea with a clap like thunder, and darted away once more like a rocket to windward, tearing the two boats after it as if they had been egg-shells.
Meanwhile a change had come over the scene. The sun had set, red and lowering, behind a bank of dark clouds, and there was every appearance of stormy weather; but as yet it was nearly calm, and the ship was unable to beat up against the light breeze in the wake of the two boats, which were soon far away on the horizon. Then a furious gust arose and passed away; a dark cloud covered the sky as night fell, and soon boats and whale were utterly lost to view.
“Waes me,” cried the big Scotch mate, as he ran up and down the quarter-deck wringing his hands, “whatisto be done noo?”
Saunders spoke a mongrel kind of language—a mixture of Scotch and English,—in which, although the Scotch words were sparsely scattered, the Scotch accent was very strong.
“How’s her head?”
“Nor’-nor’-west, sir.”
“Keep her there, then. Maybe, if the wind holds stiddy, we may overhaul them before it’s quite dark.”
Although Saunders was really in a state of the utmost consternation at this unexpected termination to the whale-hunt, and expressed the agitation of his feelings pretty freely, he was too thorough a seaman to neglect anything that was necessary to be done under the circumstances. He took the exact bearings of the point at which the boats had disappeared, and during the night, which turned out gusty and threatening, kept making short tacks, while lanterns were hung at the mast-heads, and a huge torch, or rather a small bonfire, of tarred materials was slung at the end of a spar and thrust out over the stern of the ship. But for many hours there was no sign of the boats, and the crew of theDolphinbegan to entertain the most gloomy forebodings regarding them.
At length, towards morning, a small speck of light was noticed on the weather-beam. It flickered for a moment, and then disappeared.
“Did ye see yon?” said Saunders to Mivins in an agitated whisper, laying his huge hand on the shoulder of that worthy. “Down your helm,” (to the steersman).
“Ay, ay, sir!”
“Stiddy!”
“Steady it is, sir!”
Mivins’ face, which for some hours had worn an expression of deep anxiety, relaxed into a bland smile, and he smote his thigh powerfully as he exclaimed: “That’s them, sir,andno mistake! What’s your opinion, Mr Saunders!”
The second mate peered earnestly in the direction in which the light had been seen, and Mivins, turning in the same direction, screwed up his visage into a knot of earnest attention so complicated and intense that it seemed as if no human power could evermore unravel it.
“There it goes again!” cried Saunders, as the light flashed distinctly over the sea.
“Down helm; back fore-top-sails!” he shouted, springing forward; “lower away the boat there!”
In a few seconds the ship was hove to, and a boat, with a lantern fixed to an oar, was plunging over the swell in the direction of the light. Sooner than was expected they came up with it, and a hurrah in the distance told that all was right.
“Here we are, thank God,” cried Captain Guy, “safe and sound! We don’t require assistance, Mr Saunders; pull for the ship.”
A short pull sufficed to bring the three boats alongside, and in a few seconds more the crew were congratulating their comrades with that mingled feeling of deep heartiness and a disposition to jest which is characteristic of men who are used to danger, and think lightly of it after it is over.
“We’ve lost our fish, however,” remarked Captain Guy, as he passed the crew on his way to the cabin; “but we must hope for better luck next time.”
“Well, well,” said one of the men, wringing the water out of his wet clothes as he walked forward, “we got a good laugh at Peter Grim, if we got nothin’ else by our trip.”
“How was that, Jack?”
“Why, ye see, jist before the whale gave in, it sent up a spout o’ blood and oil as thick as the main-mast, and, as luck would have it, down it came slap on the head of Grim, drenchin’ him from head to foot, and makin’ him as red as a lobster.”
“’Ow did you lose the fish, sir?” enquired Mivins, as our hero sprang up the side, followed by Singleton.
“Lost him as men lose money in railway speculations nowadays. Wesankhim, and that was the last of it. After he had towed us I don’t know how far-out of sight of the ship at any rate,—he suddenly stopped, and we pulled up and gave him some tremendous digs with the lances, until he spouted jets of blood, and we made sure of him, when, all at once, down he went head foremost like a cannon-ball, and took all the line out of both boats, so we had to cut, and he never came up again. At least if he did it became so dark that we never saw him. Then we pulled to where we thought the ship was, and, after rowing nearly all night, caught sight of your lights; and here we are, dead-tired, wet to the skin, and minus about two miles of whale-line and three harpoons.”
Chapter Five.Miscellaneous Reflections—The Coast of Greenland—Uppernavik—News of the Pole Star—Midnight Day—Scientific Facts and Fairy-like Scenes—Tom Singleton’s opinion of Poor Old Women—In Danger of a Squeeze—Escape.In pursuance of his original intention, Captain Guy now proceeded through Davis’ Straits into Baffin’s Bay, at the head of which he intended to search for the vessel of his friend Captain Ellice, and afterwards prosecute the whale-fishery. Off the coast of Greenland many whalers were seen actively engaged in warfare with the giants of the Polar Seas, and to several of these Captain Guy spoke, in the faint hope of gleaning some information as to the fate or thePole Star, but without success. It was now apparent to the crew of theDolphinthat they were engaged as much on a searching as a whaling expedition; and the fact that the commander of the lost vessel was the father of “young Mr Fred”, as they styled our hero, induced them to take a deep interest in the success of their undertaking.This interest was further increased by the graphic account that honest John Buzzby gave of the death of poor Mrs Ellice, and the enthusiastic way in which he spoke of his old captain. Fred, too, had, by his frank, affable manner and somewhat reckless disposition rendered himself a general favourite with the men, and had particularly recommended himself to Mivins the steward (who was possessed of an intensely romantic spirit), by stating once or twice very emphatically that he (Fred) meant to land on the coast of Baffin’s Bay, should the captain fail to find his father, and continue the search on foot and alone. There was no doubt whatever that poor Fred was in earnest, and had made up his mind to die in the search rather than not find him. He little knew the terrible nature of the country in which for a time his lot was to be cast, and the hopelessness of such an undertaking as he meditated. With boyish inconsiderateness he thought not of how his object was to be accomplished; he cared not what impossibilities lay in the way, but with manly determination he made up his mind to quit the ship and search for his father through the length and breadth of the land. Let not the reader smile at what he may perhaps style a childish piece of enthusiasm. Many a youth, at his age, has dreamed of attempting as great if not greater impossibilities. All honour, we say, to the boy whodreamsimpossibilities, and greater honour to him who, like Fred,resolves to attempt them! James Watt stared at an iron tea kettle till his eyes were dim, and meditated the monstrous impossibility of making that kettle work like a horse; and men might (perhaps did) smile at James Wattthen; but do men smile at James Wattnow—now that thousands of iron kettles are dashing like dreadful comets over the length and breadth of the land, not to mention the sea, with long tails of men, and women, and children behind them?“That’s ’ow it is, sir,” Mivins used to say, when spoken to by Fred on the subject, “I’ve never bin in cold countries myself, sir, but I’ve bin in ’ot, and I knows that with a stout pair o’ legs, and a will to work, a man can work ’is way hanywhere. Of course there’s not much of a pop’lation in them parts, I’ve heer’d; but there’s Heskimos, and where one man can live so can another, and what one man can do so can another—that’s bin my hexperience, and I’m not ashamed to hown it, I’m not, though Idosay it as shouldn’t, and I honour you, sir, for your filleral detarmination to find your father, sir, and—”“Steward!” shouted the captain down the cabin skylight.“Yes, sir!”“Bring me the chart.”“Yes, sir!” and Mivins disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box from the cabin just as Tom Singleton entered it.“Here we are, Fred,” he said, seizing a telescope that hung over the cabin door, “within sight of the Danish settlement of Uppernavik; come on deck and see it.”Fred needed no second bidding. It was here that the captain had hinted there would, probably, be some information obtained regarding thePole Star, and it was with feelings of no common interest the two friends examined the low-roofed houses of this out-of-the-way settlement.In an hour afterwards the captain and first mate with our young friends landed amid the clamorous greetings of the entire population, and proceeded to the residence of the governor, who received them with great kindness and hospitality; but the only information they could obtain was that, a year ago, Captain Ellice had been driven there in his brig by stress of weather, and, after refitting and taking in a supply of provisions, had set sail for England.Here theDolphinlaid in a supply of dried fish, and procured several dogs, besides an Esquimaux interpreter and hunter, named Meetuck.Leaving this little settlement, they stood out once more to sea, and threaded their way among the ice, with which they were now well acquainted in all its forms, from the mighty berg, or mountain of ice, to the wide field. They passed in succession one or two Esquimaux settlements, the last of which, Votlik, is the most northerly point of colonisation. Beyond this all was terra incognita. Here enquiry was again made through the medium of the Esquimaux interpreter who had been taken on board at Uppernavik, and they learned that the brig in question had been last seen beset in the pack, and driving to the northward. Whether or not she had ever returned they could not tell.A consultation was now held, and it was resolved to proceed north as far as the ice would permit towards Smith’s Sound, and examine the coast carefully in that direction.For several weeks past there had been gradually coming over the aspect of nature a change to which we have not yet referred, and which filled Fred Ellice and his friend, the young surgeon, with surprise and admiration; this was the long-continued daylight, which now lasted the whole night round, and increased in intensity every day as they advanced north. They had, indeed, often heard and read of it before, but their minds had utterly failed to form a correct conception of the exquisite calmness and beauty of themidnight-dayof the north.Everyone knows that in consequence of the axis of the earth not being perpendicular to the plane of its orbit round the sun, the poles are alternately directed more or lesstowardsthat great luminary during one part of the year, andawayfrom it during another part. So that, far north, the days during the one season grow longer and longer until at last there isone long dayof many weeks’ duration, in which the sun does not set at all; and during the other season there isone long night, in which the sun is never seen. It was approaching the height of the summer season when theDolphinentered the Arctic regions, and, although the sun descended below the horizon for a short time each night, there was scarcely any diminution of the light at all, and, as far as one’s sensations were concerned, there was but one long continuous day, which grew brighter and brighter at midnight, as they advanced.“How thoroughly splendid this is,” remarked Tom Singleton to Fred one night, as they sat in their favourite out-look, the main-top, gazing down on the glassy sea, which was covered with snowy icebergs and floes, and bathed in the rays of the sun, “and how wonderful to think that the sun will only set for an hour or so, and then get up as splendid as ever!”The evening was still as death. Not a sound broke upon the ear save the gentle cries of a few sea-birds that dipped ever and anon into the sea, as if to kiss it gently while asleep, and then circled slowly into the bright sky again. The sails of the ship, too, flapped very gently, and a spar creaked plaintively as the vessel rose and fell on the gentle undulations that seemed to be the breathing of the ocean; but such sounds did not disturb the universal stillness of the hour; neither did the gambols of yonder group of seals and walrus that were at play round some fantastic blocks of ice; nor did the soft murmur of the swell that broke in surf at the foot of yonder iceberg, whose blue sides were seamed with a thousand water-courses, and whose jagged pinnacles rose up like needles of steel into the clear atmosphere.There were many bergs in sight, of various shapes and sizes, at some distance from the ship, which caused much anxiety to the captain, although they were only a source of admiration to our young friends in the main-top.“Tom,” said Fred, breaking a long silence, “it may seem a strange idea to you, but, do you know, I cannot help fancying that heaven must be something like this.”“I’m not sure that that’s such a strange idea, Fred, for it has two of the characteristics of heaven in it—peace and rest.”“True; that didn’t strike me. Do you know, I wish that it were always calm like this, and that we had no wind at all.”Tom smiled. “Your voyage would be a long one if that were to happen. I dare say the Esquimaux would join with you in the wish, however, for their kayaks and oomiaks are better adapted for a calm than a stormy sea.”“Tom,” said Fred, breaking another long silence, “you’re very tiresome and stupid tonight; why don’t you talk to me?”“Because this delightful dreamy evening inclines me to think and be silent.”“Ah, Tom! that’s your chief fault. You are always inclined to think too much and to talk too little. Now I, on the contrary, am always—”“Inclined to talk too much and think too little; eh, Fred?”“Bah! don’t try to be funny, man; you haven’t it in you. Did you ever see such a miserable set of creatures as the old Esquimaux women are at Uppernavik?”“Why, what puttheminto your head?” enquired Tom, laughing.“Yonder iceberg; look at it! There’s the nose and chin exactly of the extraordinary hag you gave your silk pocket-handkerchief to at parting. Now, I never saw such a miserable old woman as that before; did you?”Tom Singleton’s whole demeanour changed, and his dark eyes brightened as the strongly marked brows frowned over them, while he replied: “Yes, Fred, I have seen old women more miserable than that. I have seen women so old that their tottering limbs could scarcely support them, going about in the bitterest November winds, with clothing too scant to cover their wrinkled bodies, and so ragged and filthy that you would have shrunk from touching it—I have seen such groping about among heaps of filth that the very dogs looked at and turned away as if in disgust.”Fred was inclined to laugh at his friend’s sudden change of manner, but there was something in the young surgeon’s character—perhaps its deep earnestness—that rendered it impossible, at least for his friends, to be jocular when he was disposed to be serious. Fred became grave as he spoke.“Where have you seen such poor wretches, Tom?” he asked with a look of interest.“In the cities, the civilised cities of our own Christian land. If you have ever walked about the streets of some of these cities before the rest of the world was astir, at grey dawn, you must have seen them shivering along and scratching among the refuse cast out by the tenants of the neighbouring houses. Oh, Fred, Fred, in my professional career, short though it has been, I have seen much of these poor old women, and many others, whom the world never sees on the streets at all, experiencing a slow, lingering death by starvation, and fatigue, and cold. It is the foulest blot on our country that there is no sufficient provision for theaged poor.”“I have seen those old women too,” replied Fred, “but I never thought very seriously about them before.”“That’s it—that’s just it; people don’tthink, otherwise this dreadful state of things would not continue. Just listennow, for a moment, to what I have to say. But don’t imagine that I’m standing up for the poor in general. I don’t feel—perhaps I’m wrong,” continued Tom thoughtfully,—“perhaps I’m wrong—I hope not—but it’s a fact I don’t feel much for the young and the sturdy poor, and I make it a ruleneverto give a farthing toyoungbeggars, not even to little children, for I know full well that they are sent out to beg by idle, good-for-nothing parents. I stand up only for theagedpoor, because, be they good or wicked, theycannothelp themselves. If a man fell down in the street, struck with some dire disease that shrunk his muscles, unstrung his nerves, made his heart tremble, and his skin shrivel up, would you look upon him and then pass him bywithout thinking?”“No!” cried Fred in an emphatic tone; “I would not! I would stop and help him.”“Then, let me ask you,” resumed Tom earnestly, “is there any difference between the weakness of muscle and the faintness of heart which is produced by disease and that which is produced by old age, except that the latter is incurable? Have not these women feelings like other women? Think you that there are not amongst them those who have ‘known better times?’ They think of sons and daughters dead and gone, perhaps, just as other old women in better circumstances do; but they must not indulge such depressing thoughts, they must reserve all the energy, the stamina, they have, to drag round the city—barefoot, it may be, and in the cold—to beg for food, and scratch up what they can find among the cinder-heaps. They groan over past comforts and past times, perhaps, and think of the days when their limbs were strong and their cheeks were smooth—for they were not always ‘hags’,—and remember thatoncethey had friends who loved them and cared for them, although they are old, unknown, and desolate now.”Tom paused and pressed his hand upon his flushed forehead.“You may think it strange,” he continued, “that I speak to you in this way about poor old women, but I feeldeeplyfor their forlorn condition. The young can help themselves, more or less, and they have strength to stand their sorrows, withhope, blessed hope, to keep them up; butpoorold men and old women cannot help themselves and cannot stand their sorrows, and, as far as this life is concerned, they haveno hope; except to die soon and easy, and, if possible, in summer-time, when the wind is not so very cold and bitter.”“But how can this be put right, Tom?” asked Fred in a tone of deep commiseration. “Our being sorry for it, and anxious about it (and you’ve made me sorry, I assure you) can do very little good, you know.”“I don’t know, Fred,” replied Tom, sinking into his usual quiet tone. “If every city and town in Great Britain would start a society whose first resolution should be that they would not leave one pooroldman or woman unprovided for,thatwould do it. Or if the Government would take it in handhonestly, that would do it.”“Call all hands, Mr Bolton,” cried the captain in a sharp voice. “Get out the ice-poles, and lower away the boats.”“Hallo! what’s wrong!” said Fred, starting up.“Getting too near the bergs, I suspect,” remarked Tom. “I say, Fred, before we go on deck, will you promise to do what I ask you?”“Well—yes, I will.”“Will you promise, then, all through your life, especially if you ever come to be rich or influential, to thinkofandforold men and women who are poor?”“I will,” answered Fred, “but I don’t know that I’ll ever be rich, or influential, or able to help them much.”“Of course you don’t. But when a thought about them strikes you, will you alwaysthink it out, and, if possible,act it out, as God shall enable you?”“Yes, Tom, I promise to do that as well as I can.”“That’s right, thank you, my boy!” said the young surgeon, as they descended the shrouds and leaped on deck.Here they found the captain walking up and down rapidly, with an anxious expression of face. After taking a turn or two he stopped short, and gazed out astern.“Set the stun’sails, Mr Bolton. The breeze will be up in a little, I think. Let the men pull with a will.”The order was given, and soon the ship was under a cloud of canvas, advancing slowly as the boats towed her between two large icebergs, which had been gradually drawing near to each other the whole afternoon.“Is there any danger, Buzzby?” enquired Fred, as the sturdy sailor stood looking at the larger berg, with an ice-pole in his hands.“Danger! ay, that there is, lad! more nor’s agreeable, d’ye see. Here we are without a breath o’ wind to get us on, right between two bergs as could crack us like a walnut. We can’t get to starboard of ’em for the current, nor to larboard of ’em for the pack, as ye see, so we must go between them, neck or nothing.”The danger was indeed imminent. The two bergs were within a hundred yards of each other, and the smaller of the two, being more easily moved by the current, probably, was setting down on the larger at a rate that bade fair to decide the fate of theDolphinin a few minutes. The men rowed lustily, but their utmost exertions could move the ship but slowly. Aid was coming, however, direct from the hand of Him who is a refuge in the time of danger. A breeze was creeping over the calm sea right astern, and it was to meet this that the studding sails had been set a-low and aloft, so that the wide-spreading canvas, projecting far to the right and left, had, to an inexperienced eye, the appearance of being out of all proportion to the little hull by which it was supported.With breathless anxiety those on board stood watching the two bergs and the approaching breeze.At last it came. A few cat’s-paws ruffled the surface of the sea, distending the sails for a moment, then leaving them flat and loose as before. This, however, was sufficient; another such puff and the ship was almost out of danger, but before it came, the projecting summit of the smaller berg was overhanging the deck. At this critical moment the wind began to blow steadily, and soon theDolphinwas in the open water beyond. Five minutes after she had passed, the moving mountains struck with a noise louder than thunder; the summits and large portions of the sides fell, with a succession of crashes like the roaring of artillery, just above the spot where the ship had lain not quarter of an hour before, and the vessel, for some time after, rocked violently to and fro in the surges that the plunge of the falling masses raised.
In pursuance of his original intention, Captain Guy now proceeded through Davis’ Straits into Baffin’s Bay, at the head of which he intended to search for the vessel of his friend Captain Ellice, and afterwards prosecute the whale-fishery. Off the coast of Greenland many whalers were seen actively engaged in warfare with the giants of the Polar Seas, and to several of these Captain Guy spoke, in the faint hope of gleaning some information as to the fate or thePole Star, but without success. It was now apparent to the crew of theDolphinthat they were engaged as much on a searching as a whaling expedition; and the fact that the commander of the lost vessel was the father of “young Mr Fred”, as they styled our hero, induced them to take a deep interest in the success of their undertaking.
This interest was further increased by the graphic account that honest John Buzzby gave of the death of poor Mrs Ellice, and the enthusiastic way in which he spoke of his old captain. Fred, too, had, by his frank, affable manner and somewhat reckless disposition rendered himself a general favourite with the men, and had particularly recommended himself to Mivins the steward (who was possessed of an intensely romantic spirit), by stating once or twice very emphatically that he (Fred) meant to land on the coast of Baffin’s Bay, should the captain fail to find his father, and continue the search on foot and alone. There was no doubt whatever that poor Fred was in earnest, and had made up his mind to die in the search rather than not find him. He little knew the terrible nature of the country in which for a time his lot was to be cast, and the hopelessness of such an undertaking as he meditated. With boyish inconsiderateness he thought not of how his object was to be accomplished; he cared not what impossibilities lay in the way, but with manly determination he made up his mind to quit the ship and search for his father through the length and breadth of the land. Let not the reader smile at what he may perhaps style a childish piece of enthusiasm. Many a youth, at his age, has dreamed of attempting as great if not greater impossibilities. All honour, we say, to the boy whodreamsimpossibilities, and greater honour to him who, like Fred,resolves to attempt them! James Watt stared at an iron tea kettle till his eyes were dim, and meditated the monstrous impossibility of making that kettle work like a horse; and men might (perhaps did) smile at James Wattthen; but do men smile at James Wattnow—now that thousands of iron kettles are dashing like dreadful comets over the length and breadth of the land, not to mention the sea, with long tails of men, and women, and children behind them?
“That’s ’ow it is, sir,” Mivins used to say, when spoken to by Fred on the subject, “I’ve never bin in cold countries myself, sir, but I’ve bin in ’ot, and I knows that with a stout pair o’ legs, and a will to work, a man can work ’is way hanywhere. Of course there’s not much of a pop’lation in them parts, I’ve heer’d; but there’s Heskimos, and where one man can live so can another, and what one man can do so can another—that’s bin my hexperience, and I’m not ashamed to hown it, I’m not, though Idosay it as shouldn’t, and I honour you, sir, for your filleral detarmination to find your father, sir, and—”
“Steward!” shouted the captain down the cabin skylight.
“Yes, sir!”
“Bring me the chart.”
“Yes, sir!” and Mivins disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box from the cabin just as Tom Singleton entered it.
“Here we are, Fred,” he said, seizing a telescope that hung over the cabin door, “within sight of the Danish settlement of Uppernavik; come on deck and see it.”
Fred needed no second bidding. It was here that the captain had hinted there would, probably, be some information obtained regarding thePole Star, and it was with feelings of no common interest the two friends examined the low-roofed houses of this out-of-the-way settlement.
In an hour afterwards the captain and first mate with our young friends landed amid the clamorous greetings of the entire population, and proceeded to the residence of the governor, who received them with great kindness and hospitality; but the only information they could obtain was that, a year ago, Captain Ellice had been driven there in his brig by stress of weather, and, after refitting and taking in a supply of provisions, had set sail for England.
Here theDolphinlaid in a supply of dried fish, and procured several dogs, besides an Esquimaux interpreter and hunter, named Meetuck.
Leaving this little settlement, they stood out once more to sea, and threaded their way among the ice, with which they were now well acquainted in all its forms, from the mighty berg, or mountain of ice, to the wide field. They passed in succession one or two Esquimaux settlements, the last of which, Votlik, is the most northerly point of colonisation. Beyond this all was terra incognita. Here enquiry was again made through the medium of the Esquimaux interpreter who had been taken on board at Uppernavik, and they learned that the brig in question had been last seen beset in the pack, and driving to the northward. Whether or not she had ever returned they could not tell.
A consultation was now held, and it was resolved to proceed north as far as the ice would permit towards Smith’s Sound, and examine the coast carefully in that direction.
For several weeks past there had been gradually coming over the aspect of nature a change to which we have not yet referred, and which filled Fred Ellice and his friend, the young surgeon, with surprise and admiration; this was the long-continued daylight, which now lasted the whole night round, and increased in intensity every day as they advanced north. They had, indeed, often heard and read of it before, but their minds had utterly failed to form a correct conception of the exquisite calmness and beauty of themidnight-dayof the north.
Everyone knows that in consequence of the axis of the earth not being perpendicular to the plane of its orbit round the sun, the poles are alternately directed more or lesstowardsthat great luminary during one part of the year, andawayfrom it during another part. So that, far north, the days during the one season grow longer and longer until at last there isone long dayof many weeks’ duration, in which the sun does not set at all; and during the other season there isone long night, in which the sun is never seen. It was approaching the height of the summer season when theDolphinentered the Arctic regions, and, although the sun descended below the horizon for a short time each night, there was scarcely any diminution of the light at all, and, as far as one’s sensations were concerned, there was but one long continuous day, which grew brighter and brighter at midnight, as they advanced.
“How thoroughly splendid this is,” remarked Tom Singleton to Fred one night, as they sat in their favourite out-look, the main-top, gazing down on the glassy sea, which was covered with snowy icebergs and floes, and bathed in the rays of the sun, “and how wonderful to think that the sun will only set for an hour or so, and then get up as splendid as ever!”
The evening was still as death. Not a sound broke upon the ear save the gentle cries of a few sea-birds that dipped ever and anon into the sea, as if to kiss it gently while asleep, and then circled slowly into the bright sky again. The sails of the ship, too, flapped very gently, and a spar creaked plaintively as the vessel rose and fell on the gentle undulations that seemed to be the breathing of the ocean; but such sounds did not disturb the universal stillness of the hour; neither did the gambols of yonder group of seals and walrus that were at play round some fantastic blocks of ice; nor did the soft murmur of the swell that broke in surf at the foot of yonder iceberg, whose blue sides were seamed with a thousand water-courses, and whose jagged pinnacles rose up like needles of steel into the clear atmosphere.
There were many bergs in sight, of various shapes and sizes, at some distance from the ship, which caused much anxiety to the captain, although they were only a source of admiration to our young friends in the main-top.
“Tom,” said Fred, breaking a long silence, “it may seem a strange idea to you, but, do you know, I cannot help fancying that heaven must be something like this.”
“I’m not sure that that’s such a strange idea, Fred, for it has two of the characteristics of heaven in it—peace and rest.”
“True; that didn’t strike me. Do you know, I wish that it were always calm like this, and that we had no wind at all.”
Tom smiled. “Your voyage would be a long one if that were to happen. I dare say the Esquimaux would join with you in the wish, however, for their kayaks and oomiaks are better adapted for a calm than a stormy sea.”
“Tom,” said Fred, breaking another long silence, “you’re very tiresome and stupid tonight; why don’t you talk to me?”
“Because this delightful dreamy evening inclines me to think and be silent.”
“Ah, Tom! that’s your chief fault. You are always inclined to think too much and to talk too little. Now I, on the contrary, am always—”
“Inclined to talk too much and think too little; eh, Fred?”
“Bah! don’t try to be funny, man; you haven’t it in you. Did you ever see such a miserable set of creatures as the old Esquimaux women are at Uppernavik?”
“Why, what puttheminto your head?” enquired Tom, laughing.
“Yonder iceberg; look at it! There’s the nose and chin exactly of the extraordinary hag you gave your silk pocket-handkerchief to at parting. Now, I never saw such a miserable old woman as that before; did you?”
Tom Singleton’s whole demeanour changed, and his dark eyes brightened as the strongly marked brows frowned over them, while he replied: “Yes, Fred, I have seen old women more miserable than that. I have seen women so old that their tottering limbs could scarcely support them, going about in the bitterest November winds, with clothing too scant to cover their wrinkled bodies, and so ragged and filthy that you would have shrunk from touching it—I have seen such groping about among heaps of filth that the very dogs looked at and turned away as if in disgust.”
Fred was inclined to laugh at his friend’s sudden change of manner, but there was something in the young surgeon’s character—perhaps its deep earnestness—that rendered it impossible, at least for his friends, to be jocular when he was disposed to be serious. Fred became grave as he spoke.
“Where have you seen such poor wretches, Tom?” he asked with a look of interest.
“In the cities, the civilised cities of our own Christian land. If you have ever walked about the streets of some of these cities before the rest of the world was astir, at grey dawn, you must have seen them shivering along and scratching among the refuse cast out by the tenants of the neighbouring houses. Oh, Fred, Fred, in my professional career, short though it has been, I have seen much of these poor old women, and many others, whom the world never sees on the streets at all, experiencing a slow, lingering death by starvation, and fatigue, and cold. It is the foulest blot on our country that there is no sufficient provision for theaged poor.”
“I have seen those old women too,” replied Fred, “but I never thought very seriously about them before.”
“That’s it—that’s just it; people don’tthink, otherwise this dreadful state of things would not continue. Just listennow, for a moment, to what I have to say. But don’t imagine that I’m standing up for the poor in general. I don’t feel—perhaps I’m wrong,” continued Tom thoughtfully,—“perhaps I’m wrong—I hope not—but it’s a fact I don’t feel much for the young and the sturdy poor, and I make it a ruleneverto give a farthing toyoungbeggars, not even to little children, for I know full well that they are sent out to beg by idle, good-for-nothing parents. I stand up only for theagedpoor, because, be they good or wicked, theycannothelp themselves. If a man fell down in the street, struck with some dire disease that shrunk his muscles, unstrung his nerves, made his heart tremble, and his skin shrivel up, would you look upon him and then pass him bywithout thinking?”
“No!” cried Fred in an emphatic tone; “I would not! I would stop and help him.”
“Then, let me ask you,” resumed Tom earnestly, “is there any difference between the weakness of muscle and the faintness of heart which is produced by disease and that which is produced by old age, except that the latter is incurable? Have not these women feelings like other women? Think you that there are not amongst them those who have ‘known better times?’ They think of sons and daughters dead and gone, perhaps, just as other old women in better circumstances do; but they must not indulge such depressing thoughts, they must reserve all the energy, the stamina, they have, to drag round the city—barefoot, it may be, and in the cold—to beg for food, and scratch up what they can find among the cinder-heaps. They groan over past comforts and past times, perhaps, and think of the days when their limbs were strong and their cheeks were smooth—for they were not always ‘hags’,—and remember thatoncethey had friends who loved them and cared for them, although they are old, unknown, and desolate now.”
Tom paused and pressed his hand upon his flushed forehead.
“You may think it strange,” he continued, “that I speak to you in this way about poor old women, but I feeldeeplyfor their forlorn condition. The young can help themselves, more or less, and they have strength to stand their sorrows, withhope, blessed hope, to keep them up; butpoorold men and old women cannot help themselves and cannot stand their sorrows, and, as far as this life is concerned, they haveno hope; except to die soon and easy, and, if possible, in summer-time, when the wind is not so very cold and bitter.”
“But how can this be put right, Tom?” asked Fred in a tone of deep commiseration. “Our being sorry for it, and anxious about it (and you’ve made me sorry, I assure you) can do very little good, you know.”
“I don’t know, Fred,” replied Tom, sinking into his usual quiet tone. “If every city and town in Great Britain would start a society whose first resolution should be that they would not leave one pooroldman or woman unprovided for,thatwould do it. Or if the Government would take it in handhonestly, that would do it.”
“Call all hands, Mr Bolton,” cried the captain in a sharp voice. “Get out the ice-poles, and lower away the boats.”
“Hallo! what’s wrong!” said Fred, starting up.
“Getting too near the bergs, I suspect,” remarked Tom. “I say, Fred, before we go on deck, will you promise to do what I ask you?”
“Well—yes, I will.”
“Will you promise, then, all through your life, especially if you ever come to be rich or influential, to thinkofandforold men and women who are poor?”
“I will,” answered Fred, “but I don’t know that I’ll ever be rich, or influential, or able to help them much.”
“Of course you don’t. But when a thought about them strikes you, will you alwaysthink it out, and, if possible,act it out, as God shall enable you?”
“Yes, Tom, I promise to do that as well as I can.”
“That’s right, thank you, my boy!” said the young surgeon, as they descended the shrouds and leaped on deck.
Here they found the captain walking up and down rapidly, with an anxious expression of face. After taking a turn or two he stopped short, and gazed out astern.
“Set the stun’sails, Mr Bolton. The breeze will be up in a little, I think. Let the men pull with a will.”
The order was given, and soon the ship was under a cloud of canvas, advancing slowly as the boats towed her between two large icebergs, which had been gradually drawing near to each other the whole afternoon.
“Is there any danger, Buzzby?” enquired Fred, as the sturdy sailor stood looking at the larger berg, with an ice-pole in his hands.
“Danger! ay, that there is, lad! more nor’s agreeable, d’ye see. Here we are without a breath o’ wind to get us on, right between two bergs as could crack us like a walnut. We can’t get to starboard of ’em for the current, nor to larboard of ’em for the pack, as ye see, so we must go between them, neck or nothing.”
The danger was indeed imminent. The two bergs were within a hundred yards of each other, and the smaller of the two, being more easily moved by the current, probably, was setting down on the larger at a rate that bade fair to decide the fate of theDolphinin a few minutes. The men rowed lustily, but their utmost exertions could move the ship but slowly. Aid was coming, however, direct from the hand of Him who is a refuge in the time of danger. A breeze was creeping over the calm sea right astern, and it was to meet this that the studding sails had been set a-low and aloft, so that the wide-spreading canvas, projecting far to the right and left, had, to an inexperienced eye, the appearance of being out of all proportion to the little hull by which it was supported.
With breathless anxiety those on board stood watching the two bergs and the approaching breeze.
At last it came. A few cat’s-paws ruffled the surface of the sea, distending the sails for a moment, then leaving them flat and loose as before. This, however, was sufficient; another such puff and the ship was almost out of danger, but before it came, the projecting summit of the smaller berg was overhanging the deck. At this critical moment the wind began to blow steadily, and soon theDolphinwas in the open water beyond. Five minutes after she had passed, the moving mountains struck with a noise louder than thunder; the summits and large portions of the sides fell, with a succession of crashes like the roaring of artillery, just above the spot where the ship had lain not quarter of an hour before, and the vessel, for some time after, rocked violently to and fro in the surges that the plunge of the falling masses raised.
Chapter Six.The Gale—Anchored to a Berg which proves to be a Treacherous one—Dangers of the “Pack”—Beset in the Ice—Mivins shows an Enquiring Mind—Walrus—Gale freshens—Chains and Cables—Holding on for Life—An Unexpected Discovery—A “Nip” and its Terrible Consequences—Yoked to an Iceberg.The narrow escape related in the last chapter was but the prelude to a night of troubles. Fortunately, as we have before mentioned,nightdid not now add darkness to their difficulties. Soon after passing the bergs, a stiff breeze sprang up off shore, between which and theDolphinthere was a thick belt of loose ice, or sludge, while outside, the pack was in motion, and presented a terrible scene of crashing and grinding masses under the influence of the breeze, which soon freshened to a gale.“Keep her away two points,” said Captain Guy to the man at the wheel; “we’ll make fast to yonder berg, Mr Bolton; if this gale carries us into the pack, we shall be swept far out of our course, if, indeed, we escape being nipped and sent to the bottom.”Being nipped is one of the numberless dangers to which Arctic navigators are exposed. Should a vessel get between two moving fields or floes of ice, there is a chance, especially in stormy weather, of the ice being forced together and squeezing in the sides of the ship; this is called nipping.“Ah!” remarked Buzzby, as he stood with folded arms by the capstan, “many and many a good ship has been sent to the bottom by that same. I’ve see’d a brig, with my own two eyes, squeezed together a’most flat by two big floes of ice, and after doin’ it they jist separated agin an’ let her go plump down to the bottom. Before she was nipped, the crew saved themselves by jumpin’ on to the ice, and they wos picked up by our ship that wos in company.”“There’s no dependin’ on the ice, by no means,” remarked Amos Parr, “for I’ve see’d the self-same sort of thing that ye mention happen to a small schooner in Davis Straits, only, instead o’ crushin’ it flat, the ice lifted it right high and dry out o’ the water, and then let it down again, without more ado, as sound as iver.”“Get out the warps and ice-anchors, there,” cried the captain.In a moment the men were in the boats, and busy heaving and planting ice-anchors, but it was not until several hours had been spent in this tedious process that they succeeded in making fast to the berg. They had barely accomplished this when the berg gave indications of breaking up, so they cast off again in great haste, and, not long afterwards, a mass of ice, many tons in weight, fell from the edge of the berg close to where they had been moored.The captain now beat up for the land in the hope of finding anchoring-ground. At first the ice presented an impenetrable barrier, but at length a lead of open water was found, through which they passed to within a few hundred yards of the shore, which, at this spot, showed a front of high precipitous cliffs.“Stand by to let go the anchor,” shouted the captain.“Ay, ay, sir!”“Down your helm! Let go!”Down went the anchor to the music of the rattling chain-cable, a sound which had not been heard since the good ship left the shores of Old England.“If we were only a few yards farther in, sir,” remarked the first mate, “we should be better. I’m afraid of the stream of ice coming round yonder point.”“So am I,” replied the captain; “but we can scarcely manage it, I fear, on account of the shore ice. Get out a boat, Mr Saunders, and try to fix an anchor. We may warp in a few yards.”The anchor was fixed, and the men strained at the capstan with a will, but, notwithstanding their utmost efforts, they could not penetrate the shore ice. Meanwhile the wind increased, and snow began to fall in large flakes. The tide, too, as it receded, brought a stream of ice round the point ahead of them, which bore right down on their bows. At first the concussions were slight, and the bow of the ship turned the floes aside, but heavier masses soon came down, and at last one fixed itself on the cable, and caused the anchor to drag with a harsh, grating sound.Fred Ellice, who stood beside the second mate, near the companion hatch, looked enquiringly at him.“Ah! that’s bad,” said Saunders, shaking his head slowly, “I dinna like that sound. If we’re carried out into the pack there, dear knows where we’ll turn up in the long run.”“Perhaps we’ll turn bottom up, sir,” suggested the fat cook, as he passed, at the moment with a tray of meat. Mizzle could not resist a joke—no matter how unsuitable the time or dreadful the consequences.“Hold your tongue, sir,” exclaimed Saunders indignantly. “Attend to your business, and speak only when you’re spoken to.”With some difficulty the mass of ice that had got foul of the cable was disengaged, but in a few moments another and a larger mass fixed upon it, and threatened to carry it away. In this extremity the captain ordered the anchor to be hove up, but this was not easily accomplished, and when at last it was hove up to the bow, both flukes were found to have been broken off, and the shank was polished bright with rubbing on the rocks.Ice now came rolling down in great quantities and with irresistible force, and at last the ship was whirled into the much-dreaded pack, where she became firmly embedded, and drifted along with it before the gale into the unknown regions of the north all that night. To add to their distress and danger a thick fog overspread the sea, so that they could not tell whither the ice was carrying them, and to warp out of it was impossible. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to drive before the gale and take advantage of the first opening in the ice that should afford them a chance of escape.Towards evening of the following day the gale abated, and the sun shone out bright and clear, but the pack remained close as ever, drifting steadily towards the north.“We’re far beyond the most northerly sea that has ever yet been reached,” remarked Captain Guy to Fred and Singleton, as he leaned on the weather bulwarks, and gazed wistfully over the fields of ice in which they were embedded.“I beg your pardon for differing, Captain Guy, but I think that Captain Parry was farther north than this when he attempted to reach the pole,” remarked Saunders, with the air of a man who was prepared to defend his position to the last.“Very possibly, Mr Saunders, but I think we are at least farther north inthisdirection than anyone has yet been; at least I make it out so by the chart.”“I’m no sure o’ that,” rejoined the second mate positively; “charts are not always to be depended on, and I’ve heard that whalers have been up hereabouts before now.”“Perhaps you are right, Mr Saunders,” replied the captain, smiling; “nevertheless I shall take observations and name the various headlands until I find that others have been here before me. Mivins, hand me the glass; it seems to me there’s a water-sky to the northward.”“What is a water-sky, Captain?” enquired Fred.“It is a peculiar, dark appearance of the sky on the horizon, which indicates open water—just the reverse of that bright appearance which you have often seen in the distance, and which we call the ice-blink.”“We’ll have open water soon,” remarked the second mate authoritatively.“Mr Saunders,” said Mivins, who, having just finished clearing away and washing up the débris and dishes of one meal, was enjoying in complete idleness the ten minutes of leisure that intervened between that and preparations for the next,—“Mr Saunders, sir, can you hinform me, sir, ’ow it is that the sea don’t freeze at ’ome the same as it does hout ’ere?”The countenance of the second mate brightened, for he prided himself not a little on his vast and varied stores of knowledge, and nothing pleased him so much as to be questioned, particularly on knotty subjects.“Hem! yes, Mivins, I can tell ’ee that. Ye must know that before fresh water can freeze on the surface the whole volume of it must be cooled down to 40 degrees, andsaltwater must be cooled down to 45 degrees. Noo, frost requires to be very long continued and very sharp indeed before it can cool the deep sea from the top to the bottom, and until it is so cooled it canna freeze.”“Oh!” remarked Mivins, who only half understood the meaning of the explanation, “’ow very hodd. But can you tell me, Mr Saunders, ’ow it is that them ’ere hicebergs is made? Them’s wot I don’t comprehend no ’ow.”“Ay,” replied Saunders, “there has been many a wiser head than yours puzzled for a long time aboot icebergs. But if ye’ll use yer eyes you’ll see how they are formed. Do you see the high cliffs yonder away to the nor’-east? Well, there are great masses o’ ice that have been formed against them by the melting and freezing of the snows of many years. When these become too heavy to stick to the cliffs, they tumble into the sea and float away as icebergs. But the biggest bergs come from the foot of glaciers. We know what glaciers are, Mivins!”“No, sir, I don’t.”The second mate sighed. “They are immense accumulations of ice, Mivins, that have been formed by the freezings and meltings of the snows of hundreds of years. They cover the mountains of Norway and Switzerland, and many other places in this world, for miles and miles in extent, and sometimes they flow down and fill up whole valleys. I once saw one in Norway that filled up a valley eight miles long, two miles broad, and seven or eight hundred feet deep, and that was only a wee bit of it, for I was told by men who had travelled over it that it covered the mountains of the interior, and made them a level field of ice, with a surface like rough, hard snow, for more than twenty miles in extent.”“You don’t say so, sir!” said Mivins in surprise. “And don’t theynevermelt?”“No, never. What they lose in summer they more than gain in winter. Moreover, they are always in motion, but they move so slow that you may look at them ever so closely and so long, you’ll not be able to observe the motion—just like the hour hand of a watch,—but we know it by observing the changes from year to year. There are immense glaciers here in the Arctic regions, and the lumps which they are constantly shedding off into the sea are the icebergs that one sees and hears so much about.”Mivins seemed deeply impressed with this explanation, and would probably have continued the conversation much longer had he not been interrupted by the voice of his mischievous satellite, Davie Summers, who touched his forelock and said: “Please, Mr Mivins, shall I lay the table-cloth, or would it be better to slump dinner with tea this afternoon?”Mivins started. “Ha! caught me napping! Down below, you young dog!”The boy dived instantly, followed first by a dish-clout, rolled tightly up and well aimed, and afterwards by his active-limbed superior. Both reached the region of smells, cruets, and crockery at the same moment, and each set energetically to work at their never-ending duties.Soon after this the ice suddenly loosened, and the crew succeeded, after a few hours’ hard labour, in warping theDolphinonce more out of the pack; but scarcely had this been accomplished when another storm, which had been gradually gathering, burst upon them, and compelled them once more to seek the shelter of the land.Numerous walrus rolled about in the bays here, and they approached much nearer to the vessel than they had yet done, affording those on board a good view of their huge, uncouth visages, as they shook their shaggy fronts and ploughed up the waves with their tusks. These enormous creatures are the elephants of the Arctic Ocean. Their aspect is particularly grim and fierce, and, being nearly equal to elephants in bulk, they are not less terrible than they appear. In form they somewhat resemble seals, having barrel-shaped bodies, with round, or rather square, blunt heads and shaggy bristling moustache, and two long ivory tusks which curve downwards instead of upwards, serving the purpose frequently of hooks, by means of which and their fore-flippers they can pull themselves up on the rocks and icebergs. Indeed they are sometimes found at a considerable height up the sides of steep cliffs, basking in the sun.Fred was anxious to procure the skull of one of these monstrous animals, but the threatening appearance of the weather rendered any attempt to secure one at that time impossible. A dark sinister scowl overhung the blink under the cloud-bank to the southward, and the dovkies which had enlivened their progress hitherto forsook the channel, as if they distrusted the weather. Captain Guy made every possible preparation to meet the coming storm, by warping down under the shelter of a ledge of rock, to which he made fast with two good hawsers, while everything was made snug on board.“We are going to catch it, I fear,” said Fred, glancing at the black clouds that hurried across the sky to the northward, while he walked the deck with his friend, Tom Singleton.“I suspect so,” replied Tom, “and it does not raise my spirits to see Saunders shaking his huge visage so portentously. Do you know, I have a great belief in that fellow. He seems to know everything and to have gone through every sort of experience, and I notice that most of his prognostications come to pass.”“So they do, Tom,” said Fred, “but I wish he would put a better face on things till theydocome to pass. His looks are enough to frighten one.”“I think we shall require another line out, Mr Saunders,” remarked the captain, as the gale freshened, and the two hawsers were drawn straight and rigid like bars of iron: “send ashore and make a whale-line fast immediately.”The second mate obeyed with a grunt that seemed to insinuate thathewould have had one out long ago. In a few minutes it was fast, and not a moment too soon, for immediately after it blew a perfect hurricane. Heavier and heavier it came, and the ice began to drift more wildly than ever. The captain had just given orders to make fast another line, when the sharp, twanging snap of a cord was heard. The six-inch hawser had parted, and they were swinging by the two others, with the gale roaring like a lion through the spars and rigging. Half a minute more and “twang, twang!” came another report, and the whale-line was gone. Only one rope now held them to the land, and prevented them being swept into the turmoil of ice, and wind, and water, from which the rocky ledge protected them. The hawser was a good one—a new ten-inch rope. It sung like the deep tones of an organ, loud above the rattle of the rigging and the shrouds, but that was its death-song. It gave way with the noise of a cannon, and in the smoke that followed its recoil, they were dragged out by the wild ice and driven hither and hither at its mercy.With some difficulty the ship was warped into a place of comparative security in the rushing drift, but it was soon thrown loose again, and severely squeezed by the rolling masses. Then an attempt was made to set the sails and beat up for the land, but the rudder was almost unmanageable owing to the ice, and nothing could be made of it, so they were compelled to go right before the wind under close-reefed top-sails, in order to keep some command of the ship. All hands were on deck watching in silence the ice ahead of them, which presented a most formidable aspect.Away to the north the strait could be seen growing narrower, with heavy ice-tables grinding up and clogging it from cliff to cliff on either side. About seven in the evening they were close upon the piling masses, to enter into which seemed certain destruction.“Stand by to let go the anchor,” cried the captain, in the desperate hope of being able to wind the ship.“What’s that ahead of us?” exclaimed the first mate suddenly.“Ship on the starboard bow, right inshore!” roared the look-out.The attention of the crew was for a moment called from their own critical situation towards the strange vessel which now came into view, having been previously concealed from them by a large grounded berg.“Can you make her out, Mr Bolton?”“Yes, sir, I think she’s a large brig, but she seems much chafed, and there’s no name left on the stern, if ever there was one.”As he spoke, the driving snow and fog cleared up partially, and the brig was seen not three hundred yards from them, drifting slowly into the loose ice. There was evidently no one on board, and although one or two of the sails were loose, they hung in shreds from the yards. Scarcely had this been noted when theDolphinstruck against a large mass of ice, and quivered under the violence of the shock.“Let go!” shouted the captain.Down went the heaviest anchor they had, and for two minutes the chain flew out at the hawse-hole.“Hold on!”The chain was checked, but the strain was awful. A mass of ice, hundreds of tons weight, was tearing down towards the bow. There was no hope of resisting it. Time was not even afforded to attach a buoy or log to the cable, so it was let slip, and thus theDolphin’sbest bower was lost for ever.But there was no time to think of or regret this, for the ship was now driving down with the gale, scraping against a lee of ice which was seldom less than thirty feet thick. Almost at the same moment the strange vessel was whirled close to them, not more than fifty yards distant, between two driving masses of thick ice.“What if it should be my father’s brig?” whispered Fred Ellice, as he grasped Singleton’s arm, and turned to him a face of ashy paleness.“No fear of that, lad,” said Buzzby, who stood near the larboard gangway and had overheard the remark. “I’d know your father’s brig among a thousand—”As he spoke, the two masses of ice closed, and the brig was nipped between them. For a few seconds she seemed to tremble like a living creature, and every timber creaked. Then she was turned slowly on one side, until the crew of theDolphincould see down into her hold, where the beams were giving way and cracking up as matches might be crushed in the grasp of a strong hand. Then the larboard bow was observed to yield as if it were made of soft clay, the starboard bow was pressed out, and the ice was forced into the forecastle. Scarcely three minutes had passed since the nip commenced; in one minute more the brig went down, and the ice was rolling wildly, as if in triumph, over the spot where she had disappeared.The fate of this vessel, which might so soon be their own, threw a momentary gloom over the crew of theDolphin, but their position left them no time for thought. One upturned mass rose above the gunwale, smashed in the bulwarks, and deposited half a ton of ice on deck. Scarcely had this danger passed when a new enemy appeared in sight ahead. Directly in their way, just beyond the line of floe-ice against which they were alternately thumping and grinding, lay a group of bergs. There was no possibility of avoiding them, and the only question was whether they were to be dashed to pieces on their hard blue sides or, perchance, in some providential nook to find a refuge from the storm.“There’s an open lead between them and the floe-ice,” exclaimed Bolton in a hopeful tone of voice, seizing an ice-pole and leaping on the gunwale.“Look alive, men, with your poles,” cried the captain, “and shove with a will.”The “Ay, ay, sir!” of the men was uttered with a heartiness that showed how powerfully this gleam of hope acted on their spirits; but a new damp was cast over them when, on gaining the open passage, they discovered that the bergs were not at rest, but were bearing down on the floe-ice with slow but awful momentum, and threatened to crush the ship between the two. Just then a low berg came driving up from the southward, dashing the spray over its sides, and with its fore-head ploughing up the smaller ice as if in scorn. A happy thought flashed across the captain’s mind. “Down the quarter boat,” he cried.In an instant it struck the water, and four men were on the thwarts.“Cast an ice-anchor on that berg.”Peter Grim obeyed the order, and, with a swing that Hercules would have envied, planted it securely. In another moment the ship was following in the wake of this novel tug! It was a moment of great danger, for the bergs encroached on their narrow canal as they advanced, obliging them to brace the yards to clear the impending ice-walls, and they shaved the large berg so closely that the port-quarter boat would have been crushed if it had not been taken from the davits. Five minutes of such travelling brought them abreast of a grounded berg, to which they resolved to make fast; the order was given to cast off the rope; away went their white tug on his race to the far north, and the ship swung round in safety under the lee of the berg, where the crew acknowledged with gratitude their merciful deliverance from imminent danger.
The narrow escape related in the last chapter was but the prelude to a night of troubles. Fortunately, as we have before mentioned,nightdid not now add darkness to their difficulties. Soon after passing the bergs, a stiff breeze sprang up off shore, between which and theDolphinthere was a thick belt of loose ice, or sludge, while outside, the pack was in motion, and presented a terrible scene of crashing and grinding masses under the influence of the breeze, which soon freshened to a gale.
“Keep her away two points,” said Captain Guy to the man at the wheel; “we’ll make fast to yonder berg, Mr Bolton; if this gale carries us into the pack, we shall be swept far out of our course, if, indeed, we escape being nipped and sent to the bottom.”
Being nipped is one of the numberless dangers to which Arctic navigators are exposed. Should a vessel get between two moving fields or floes of ice, there is a chance, especially in stormy weather, of the ice being forced together and squeezing in the sides of the ship; this is called nipping.
“Ah!” remarked Buzzby, as he stood with folded arms by the capstan, “many and many a good ship has been sent to the bottom by that same. I’ve see’d a brig, with my own two eyes, squeezed together a’most flat by two big floes of ice, and after doin’ it they jist separated agin an’ let her go plump down to the bottom. Before she was nipped, the crew saved themselves by jumpin’ on to the ice, and they wos picked up by our ship that wos in company.”
“There’s no dependin’ on the ice, by no means,” remarked Amos Parr, “for I’ve see’d the self-same sort of thing that ye mention happen to a small schooner in Davis Straits, only, instead o’ crushin’ it flat, the ice lifted it right high and dry out o’ the water, and then let it down again, without more ado, as sound as iver.”
“Get out the warps and ice-anchors, there,” cried the captain.
In a moment the men were in the boats, and busy heaving and planting ice-anchors, but it was not until several hours had been spent in this tedious process that they succeeded in making fast to the berg. They had barely accomplished this when the berg gave indications of breaking up, so they cast off again in great haste, and, not long afterwards, a mass of ice, many tons in weight, fell from the edge of the berg close to where they had been moored.
The captain now beat up for the land in the hope of finding anchoring-ground. At first the ice presented an impenetrable barrier, but at length a lead of open water was found, through which they passed to within a few hundred yards of the shore, which, at this spot, showed a front of high precipitous cliffs.
“Stand by to let go the anchor,” shouted the captain.
“Ay, ay, sir!”
“Down your helm! Let go!”
Down went the anchor to the music of the rattling chain-cable, a sound which had not been heard since the good ship left the shores of Old England.
“If we were only a few yards farther in, sir,” remarked the first mate, “we should be better. I’m afraid of the stream of ice coming round yonder point.”
“So am I,” replied the captain; “but we can scarcely manage it, I fear, on account of the shore ice. Get out a boat, Mr Saunders, and try to fix an anchor. We may warp in a few yards.”
The anchor was fixed, and the men strained at the capstan with a will, but, notwithstanding their utmost efforts, they could not penetrate the shore ice. Meanwhile the wind increased, and snow began to fall in large flakes. The tide, too, as it receded, brought a stream of ice round the point ahead of them, which bore right down on their bows. At first the concussions were slight, and the bow of the ship turned the floes aside, but heavier masses soon came down, and at last one fixed itself on the cable, and caused the anchor to drag with a harsh, grating sound.
Fred Ellice, who stood beside the second mate, near the companion hatch, looked enquiringly at him.
“Ah! that’s bad,” said Saunders, shaking his head slowly, “I dinna like that sound. If we’re carried out into the pack there, dear knows where we’ll turn up in the long run.”
“Perhaps we’ll turn bottom up, sir,” suggested the fat cook, as he passed, at the moment with a tray of meat. Mizzle could not resist a joke—no matter how unsuitable the time or dreadful the consequences.
“Hold your tongue, sir,” exclaimed Saunders indignantly. “Attend to your business, and speak only when you’re spoken to.”
With some difficulty the mass of ice that had got foul of the cable was disengaged, but in a few moments another and a larger mass fixed upon it, and threatened to carry it away. In this extremity the captain ordered the anchor to be hove up, but this was not easily accomplished, and when at last it was hove up to the bow, both flukes were found to have been broken off, and the shank was polished bright with rubbing on the rocks.
Ice now came rolling down in great quantities and with irresistible force, and at last the ship was whirled into the much-dreaded pack, where she became firmly embedded, and drifted along with it before the gale into the unknown regions of the north all that night. To add to their distress and danger a thick fog overspread the sea, so that they could not tell whither the ice was carrying them, and to warp out of it was impossible. There was nothing for it, therefore, but to drive before the gale and take advantage of the first opening in the ice that should afford them a chance of escape.
Towards evening of the following day the gale abated, and the sun shone out bright and clear, but the pack remained close as ever, drifting steadily towards the north.
“We’re far beyond the most northerly sea that has ever yet been reached,” remarked Captain Guy to Fred and Singleton, as he leaned on the weather bulwarks, and gazed wistfully over the fields of ice in which they were embedded.
“I beg your pardon for differing, Captain Guy, but I think that Captain Parry was farther north than this when he attempted to reach the pole,” remarked Saunders, with the air of a man who was prepared to defend his position to the last.
“Very possibly, Mr Saunders, but I think we are at least farther north inthisdirection than anyone has yet been; at least I make it out so by the chart.”
“I’m no sure o’ that,” rejoined the second mate positively; “charts are not always to be depended on, and I’ve heard that whalers have been up hereabouts before now.”
“Perhaps you are right, Mr Saunders,” replied the captain, smiling; “nevertheless I shall take observations and name the various headlands until I find that others have been here before me. Mivins, hand me the glass; it seems to me there’s a water-sky to the northward.”
“What is a water-sky, Captain?” enquired Fred.
“It is a peculiar, dark appearance of the sky on the horizon, which indicates open water—just the reverse of that bright appearance which you have often seen in the distance, and which we call the ice-blink.”
“We’ll have open water soon,” remarked the second mate authoritatively.
“Mr Saunders,” said Mivins, who, having just finished clearing away and washing up the débris and dishes of one meal, was enjoying in complete idleness the ten minutes of leisure that intervened between that and preparations for the next,—“Mr Saunders, sir, can you hinform me, sir, ’ow it is that the sea don’t freeze at ’ome the same as it does hout ’ere?”
The countenance of the second mate brightened, for he prided himself not a little on his vast and varied stores of knowledge, and nothing pleased him so much as to be questioned, particularly on knotty subjects.
“Hem! yes, Mivins, I can tell ’ee that. Ye must know that before fresh water can freeze on the surface the whole volume of it must be cooled down to 40 degrees, andsaltwater must be cooled down to 45 degrees. Noo, frost requires to be very long continued and very sharp indeed before it can cool the deep sea from the top to the bottom, and until it is so cooled it canna freeze.”
“Oh!” remarked Mivins, who only half understood the meaning of the explanation, “’ow very hodd. But can you tell me, Mr Saunders, ’ow it is that them ’ere hicebergs is made? Them’s wot I don’t comprehend no ’ow.”
“Ay,” replied Saunders, “there has been many a wiser head than yours puzzled for a long time aboot icebergs. But if ye’ll use yer eyes you’ll see how they are formed. Do you see the high cliffs yonder away to the nor’-east? Well, there are great masses o’ ice that have been formed against them by the melting and freezing of the snows of many years. When these become too heavy to stick to the cliffs, they tumble into the sea and float away as icebergs. But the biggest bergs come from the foot of glaciers. We know what glaciers are, Mivins!”
“No, sir, I don’t.”
The second mate sighed. “They are immense accumulations of ice, Mivins, that have been formed by the freezings and meltings of the snows of hundreds of years. They cover the mountains of Norway and Switzerland, and many other places in this world, for miles and miles in extent, and sometimes they flow down and fill up whole valleys. I once saw one in Norway that filled up a valley eight miles long, two miles broad, and seven or eight hundred feet deep, and that was only a wee bit of it, for I was told by men who had travelled over it that it covered the mountains of the interior, and made them a level field of ice, with a surface like rough, hard snow, for more than twenty miles in extent.”
“You don’t say so, sir!” said Mivins in surprise. “And don’t theynevermelt?”
“No, never. What they lose in summer they more than gain in winter. Moreover, they are always in motion, but they move so slow that you may look at them ever so closely and so long, you’ll not be able to observe the motion—just like the hour hand of a watch,—but we know it by observing the changes from year to year. There are immense glaciers here in the Arctic regions, and the lumps which they are constantly shedding off into the sea are the icebergs that one sees and hears so much about.”
Mivins seemed deeply impressed with this explanation, and would probably have continued the conversation much longer had he not been interrupted by the voice of his mischievous satellite, Davie Summers, who touched his forelock and said: “Please, Mr Mivins, shall I lay the table-cloth, or would it be better to slump dinner with tea this afternoon?”
Mivins started. “Ha! caught me napping! Down below, you young dog!”
The boy dived instantly, followed first by a dish-clout, rolled tightly up and well aimed, and afterwards by his active-limbed superior. Both reached the region of smells, cruets, and crockery at the same moment, and each set energetically to work at their never-ending duties.
Soon after this the ice suddenly loosened, and the crew succeeded, after a few hours’ hard labour, in warping theDolphinonce more out of the pack; but scarcely had this been accomplished when another storm, which had been gradually gathering, burst upon them, and compelled them once more to seek the shelter of the land.
Numerous walrus rolled about in the bays here, and they approached much nearer to the vessel than they had yet done, affording those on board a good view of their huge, uncouth visages, as they shook their shaggy fronts and ploughed up the waves with their tusks. These enormous creatures are the elephants of the Arctic Ocean. Their aspect is particularly grim and fierce, and, being nearly equal to elephants in bulk, they are not less terrible than they appear. In form they somewhat resemble seals, having barrel-shaped bodies, with round, or rather square, blunt heads and shaggy bristling moustache, and two long ivory tusks which curve downwards instead of upwards, serving the purpose frequently of hooks, by means of which and their fore-flippers they can pull themselves up on the rocks and icebergs. Indeed they are sometimes found at a considerable height up the sides of steep cliffs, basking in the sun.
Fred was anxious to procure the skull of one of these monstrous animals, but the threatening appearance of the weather rendered any attempt to secure one at that time impossible. A dark sinister scowl overhung the blink under the cloud-bank to the southward, and the dovkies which had enlivened their progress hitherto forsook the channel, as if they distrusted the weather. Captain Guy made every possible preparation to meet the coming storm, by warping down under the shelter of a ledge of rock, to which he made fast with two good hawsers, while everything was made snug on board.
“We are going to catch it, I fear,” said Fred, glancing at the black clouds that hurried across the sky to the northward, while he walked the deck with his friend, Tom Singleton.
“I suspect so,” replied Tom, “and it does not raise my spirits to see Saunders shaking his huge visage so portentously. Do you know, I have a great belief in that fellow. He seems to know everything and to have gone through every sort of experience, and I notice that most of his prognostications come to pass.”
“So they do, Tom,” said Fred, “but I wish he would put a better face on things till theydocome to pass. His looks are enough to frighten one.”
“I think we shall require another line out, Mr Saunders,” remarked the captain, as the gale freshened, and the two hawsers were drawn straight and rigid like bars of iron: “send ashore and make a whale-line fast immediately.”
The second mate obeyed with a grunt that seemed to insinuate thathewould have had one out long ago. In a few minutes it was fast, and not a moment too soon, for immediately after it blew a perfect hurricane. Heavier and heavier it came, and the ice began to drift more wildly than ever. The captain had just given orders to make fast another line, when the sharp, twanging snap of a cord was heard. The six-inch hawser had parted, and they were swinging by the two others, with the gale roaring like a lion through the spars and rigging. Half a minute more and “twang, twang!” came another report, and the whale-line was gone. Only one rope now held them to the land, and prevented them being swept into the turmoil of ice, and wind, and water, from which the rocky ledge protected them. The hawser was a good one—a new ten-inch rope. It sung like the deep tones of an organ, loud above the rattle of the rigging and the shrouds, but that was its death-song. It gave way with the noise of a cannon, and in the smoke that followed its recoil, they were dragged out by the wild ice and driven hither and hither at its mercy.
With some difficulty the ship was warped into a place of comparative security in the rushing drift, but it was soon thrown loose again, and severely squeezed by the rolling masses. Then an attempt was made to set the sails and beat up for the land, but the rudder was almost unmanageable owing to the ice, and nothing could be made of it, so they were compelled to go right before the wind under close-reefed top-sails, in order to keep some command of the ship. All hands were on deck watching in silence the ice ahead of them, which presented a most formidable aspect.
Away to the north the strait could be seen growing narrower, with heavy ice-tables grinding up and clogging it from cliff to cliff on either side. About seven in the evening they were close upon the piling masses, to enter into which seemed certain destruction.
“Stand by to let go the anchor,” cried the captain, in the desperate hope of being able to wind the ship.
“What’s that ahead of us?” exclaimed the first mate suddenly.
“Ship on the starboard bow, right inshore!” roared the look-out.
The attention of the crew was for a moment called from their own critical situation towards the strange vessel which now came into view, having been previously concealed from them by a large grounded berg.
“Can you make her out, Mr Bolton?”
“Yes, sir, I think she’s a large brig, but she seems much chafed, and there’s no name left on the stern, if ever there was one.”
As he spoke, the driving snow and fog cleared up partially, and the brig was seen not three hundred yards from them, drifting slowly into the loose ice. There was evidently no one on board, and although one or two of the sails were loose, they hung in shreds from the yards. Scarcely had this been noted when theDolphinstruck against a large mass of ice, and quivered under the violence of the shock.
“Let go!” shouted the captain.
Down went the heaviest anchor they had, and for two minutes the chain flew out at the hawse-hole.
“Hold on!”
The chain was checked, but the strain was awful. A mass of ice, hundreds of tons weight, was tearing down towards the bow. There was no hope of resisting it. Time was not even afforded to attach a buoy or log to the cable, so it was let slip, and thus theDolphin’sbest bower was lost for ever.
But there was no time to think of or regret this, for the ship was now driving down with the gale, scraping against a lee of ice which was seldom less than thirty feet thick. Almost at the same moment the strange vessel was whirled close to them, not more than fifty yards distant, between two driving masses of thick ice.
“What if it should be my father’s brig?” whispered Fred Ellice, as he grasped Singleton’s arm, and turned to him a face of ashy paleness.
“No fear of that, lad,” said Buzzby, who stood near the larboard gangway and had overheard the remark. “I’d know your father’s brig among a thousand—”
As he spoke, the two masses of ice closed, and the brig was nipped between them. For a few seconds she seemed to tremble like a living creature, and every timber creaked. Then she was turned slowly on one side, until the crew of theDolphincould see down into her hold, where the beams were giving way and cracking up as matches might be crushed in the grasp of a strong hand. Then the larboard bow was observed to yield as if it were made of soft clay, the starboard bow was pressed out, and the ice was forced into the forecastle. Scarcely three minutes had passed since the nip commenced; in one minute more the brig went down, and the ice was rolling wildly, as if in triumph, over the spot where she had disappeared.
The fate of this vessel, which might so soon be their own, threw a momentary gloom over the crew of theDolphin, but their position left them no time for thought. One upturned mass rose above the gunwale, smashed in the bulwarks, and deposited half a ton of ice on deck. Scarcely had this danger passed when a new enemy appeared in sight ahead. Directly in their way, just beyond the line of floe-ice against which they were alternately thumping and grinding, lay a group of bergs. There was no possibility of avoiding them, and the only question was whether they were to be dashed to pieces on their hard blue sides or, perchance, in some providential nook to find a refuge from the storm.
“There’s an open lead between them and the floe-ice,” exclaimed Bolton in a hopeful tone of voice, seizing an ice-pole and leaping on the gunwale.
“Look alive, men, with your poles,” cried the captain, “and shove with a will.”
The “Ay, ay, sir!” of the men was uttered with a heartiness that showed how powerfully this gleam of hope acted on their spirits; but a new damp was cast over them when, on gaining the open passage, they discovered that the bergs were not at rest, but were bearing down on the floe-ice with slow but awful momentum, and threatened to crush the ship between the two. Just then a low berg came driving up from the southward, dashing the spray over its sides, and with its fore-head ploughing up the smaller ice as if in scorn. A happy thought flashed across the captain’s mind. “Down the quarter boat,” he cried.
In an instant it struck the water, and four men were on the thwarts.
“Cast an ice-anchor on that berg.”
Peter Grim obeyed the order, and, with a swing that Hercules would have envied, planted it securely. In another moment the ship was following in the wake of this novel tug! It was a moment of great danger, for the bergs encroached on their narrow canal as they advanced, obliging them to brace the yards to clear the impending ice-walls, and they shaved the large berg so closely that the port-quarter boat would have been crushed if it had not been taken from the davits. Five minutes of such travelling brought them abreast of a grounded berg, to which they resolved to make fast; the order was given to cast off the rope; away went their white tug on his race to the far north, and the ship swung round in safety under the lee of the berg, where the crew acknowledged with gratitude their merciful deliverance from imminent danger.