Chapter Sixteen.

Chapter Sixteen.The Arctic Theatre enlarged upon—Great Success of the First Play—The Esquimaux submit and become Fast Friends.The 1st of December was a great day on board theDolphin, for on that day it was announced to the crew that “The Arctic Theatre” would be opened, under the able management of Mr F. Ellice, with the play of “Blunderbore; or, The Arctic Giant”. The bill, of which two copies were issued gratis to the crew, announced that the celebrated Peter Grim, Esquire, who had so long trodden the boards of theDolphinwith unparalleled success, had kindly consented to appear in the character ofBlunderborefor one winter only. The other parts were as follows:—Whackinta, a beautiful Esquimaux widow, who had been captured by two Polar bears, both of which were deeply in love with her, by Frederick Ellice, Esquire.First Bear, a big one, by Terence O’Riley, Esquire.Second Bear, a little one, by David Summers, Esquire.Ben Bolt, a brave British seaman, who had been wrecked in Blunderbore’s desolate dominions, all the crew having perished except himself, by John Buzzby, Esquire. These constituted the various characters of the piece, the name of which had been kept a profound secret from the crew until the morning of the day on which it was acted.Fred’s duties as manager and author upon this occasion were by no means light, for his troop, being unaccustomed to study, found the utmost difficulty in committing the simplest sentences to memory. O’Riley turned out to be the sharpest among them, but having agreed to impersonate the First Bear, and having to act his part in dumb show—bears not being supposed capable of speech—his powers of memory had not to be exerted. Grim was also pretty good, but Davie Summers could not be got to remember even the general arrangements of the piece; and as for Buzzby, he no sooner mastered a line than he forgot the one before it, and almost gave it up in despair; but by dint of much study and many rehearsals in secret, under the superintendence of Fred and Tom Singleton, who undertook to assist, they succeeded at last in going through with it, with only a few mistakes.On the morning of the 1st December, while the most of the crew were away at Red Snow Valley cutting moss, Fred collected hisCorps Dramatiquefor a last rehearsal in the forecastle, where they were secure from interruption, the place being so cold that no one would willingly go into it except under the force of necessity. A dim lantern lit up the apartment faintly.“We must do it without a mistake this time,” said Fred Ellice, opening his book and calling upon Grim to begin.“’Tis cold,” began Grim.“Stop, you’re wrong.”“Oh, so I am!” cried Grim, slapping his thigh; “I’ll begin again.” It may be remarked here that although Blunderbore was supposed to be an Esquimaux monarch, he was compelled to speak English, being unfortunately ignorant—if we may so speak—of his native tongue!“Oh! ’tis a dismal thing,” began Grim again, “to dwell in solitude and cold! ’Tis very cold,” (Grim shuddered here tremendously) “and—and— what’s next?”“Hunger,” said Fred.“Hunger gnaws my vitals. My name is Blunderbore. ’Twere better had I been born a Blunderbuss, ’cause then I havegone offand dwelt in climes more shootable to my tender constitoosion. Ha! is that a bear I sees before me?”“It’s notsees,” interrupted Fred.At this moment a tremendous roar was heard, and O’Riley bounded from behind a top-sail which represented an iceberg, dressed from head to foot in the skin of a white bear which had been killed a few days before.“Stop, O’Riley,” cried Fred, “you’re too soon, man.Ihave to come on first as an Esquimaux woman, and when Grim says to the woman he wishes he could see a bear,thenyou are to come.”“Och! whirra, but me brains is confuged intirely wid it all,” said O’Riley, rising on his hind-legs and walking off with his tail, literally as well as figuratively, between his legs.“Now, Buzzby, now; it’syourtime—when you hear the word ‘misery’ come on and fight like a Trojan with the bears. The doctor will remind you.”Fred was remarkably patient and painstaking, and his pupils, though not apt scholars, were willing, so that the morning rehearsal was gone through with fewer mistakes than might have been expected, and when the crew came back to dinner about mid-day, which, however, was as dark as midnight, their parts were sufficiently well got up, and nothing remained to be done but to arrange the stage and scenery for the evening’s entertainment—it having been resolved that the performance should commence after supper. The stage was at the after part of the cabin, and raised about a foot above the deck, and its management had been intrusted to the doctor, who, assisted by Peter Grim, transformed that portion of the ship into a scene so romantically beautiful that the first sight of it petrified the crew with surprise. But until the curtain should rise all arrangements were carefully concealed from everyone except thedramatis personae. Even the captain and officers were forbidden to peep behind the sail that formed a curtain to the stage, and this secrecy, besides being necessary, was extremely useful, inasmuch as it excited the curiosity of the men and afforded them food for converse and speculation, for a week before the great day arrived.The longed-for hour came at last. The cabin tables having been removed, and rows of seats placed in front of the stage, the men were admitted from the deck, to which they had been expelled an hour previous in order not to impede preliminary arrangements. There was great joking, of course, as they took their seats and criticised the fittings up. David Mizzle was of opinion that the foot-lights “wos oncommon grand”, which was an unquestionable fact, for they consisted of six tin lamps filled with seal-oil, from the wicks of which rose a compound of yellow flame and smoke that had a singularly luminous effect. Amos Parr guessed that the curtain would be certain sure to get jammed at the first haul, and several of the others were convinced that O’Riley would stick his part in one way or another. However, an end was put to all remarks, and expectation raised on tiptoe by the ringing of a small hand-bell, and immediately thereafter a violent pulling at the curtain which concealed the stage; but the curtain remained immovable (they always do on such occasions), and a loud whispering was heard behind the scenes.“Clap on extra tackle and call all hands to hoist away,” suggested one of the audience.The laugh with which this advice was received was checked in the bud by the sudden rising of the curtain with such violence that the whole framework of the theatre shook again.For a few seconds a dead silence reigned, for the men were stricken dumb with genuine amazement at the scene before them. The stage was covered with white sheets arranged in such a manner as to represent snow, and the more effectually to carry out the idea, several huge blocks of real ice and a few patches of snow were introduced here and there, the cold in the after-part of the cabin being too great to permit of their melting. A top-gallant sail, on which were painted several blue cracks and some strong white lights, did duty for an iceberg, and filled up the whole back of the scene. In front of this, in the centre of the stage, on an extemporised hummock, sat Peter Grim as the Giant Blunderbore. His colossal proportions were enhanced by the addition of an entire white bearskin to his ordinary hairy dress, and which was thrown round his broad shoulders in the form of a tippet. A broad scarlet sash was tied round his waist, and a crown of brown paper, painted in alternate diamonds of blue, red, and yellow, sat upon his brow. Grim was in truth a magnificent-looking fellow, with his black beard and moustache; and the mock-heroic frown with which he gazed up (as one of the audience suggested) at the Aurora Borealis, while he grasped an enormous club in his right hand, became him well.The first few seconds of dead silence, with which this was received, were succeeded by a long and loud burst of applause, the heartiness of which plainly showed that the scene far exceeded the expectations of the men.“Bravo!” cried the captain, “excellent! nothing could be better.”“It beats natur, quite,” said one.“All to sticks,” cried another.“And wot a tree-mendous giant he makes. Three cheers for Peter Grim, lads!”Three cheers were promptly given, with right good-will, but the Giant did not move a muscle. He was far too deeply impressed with the importance of playing his part well to acknowledge the compliment. Having gazed long enough to enable the men to get rid of their first flow of enthusiasm, Blunderbore rose majestically, and, coming forward to the foot-lights, looked straight over the heads of the men, and addressed himself to the opposite bulkhead.“Oh! ’tis a dismal thing,” he began, and continued to spout his part with flashing eyes and considerable energy until he came to the word Blunderbuss, when, either from a mistaken notion as to when it was his time to go on, or nervous forgetfulness of the plan of the piece, the Little Bear sprang over the edge of the iceberg and alighted on the middle of the stage.“Oh! bad luck to yees intirely,” said the Big Bear from behind the scenes in an angry whisper, which was distinctly heard by the audience, “ye’ve gone and spoiled it all, ye have. Come off, will ye, and take yer turn at the right time, won’t ye?”In the midst of the shout of delight caused by this mistake, O’Riley, forgetting that he was a bear, rushed on the stage on his hind-legs, seized the Little Bear by the fore-leg, and dragged him off at the other side amid loud applause. Blunderbore, with admirable self-possession, resumed his part the instant there was a calm, and carried it successfully to a close.Just as he ended, Fred waddled on, in the guise of an Esquimaux woman, and so well was he got up that the crew looked round to see if Aninga (who, with her husband, had been allowed to witness the play) was in her place. Fred had intentionally taken Aninga as his model, and had been very successful in imitating the top-knot of hair. The baby, too, was hit off to perfection, having been made by Mivins, who proved himself a genius in such matters. Its head was a ball of rags covered with brown leather, and two white bone buttons with black spots in the centre did duty for its eyes.The first thing Whackinta did on coming forward was to deposit the baby on the snow with its head downwards by mistake, whereat it began to scream vociferously. This scream was accomplished by Davie Summers creeping below the stage and putting his mouth to a hole in the flooring close to which the baby’s head lay. Davie’s falsetto was uncommonly like to a child’s voice, and the effect was quite startling. Of course Whackinta tried to soothe it, and, failing in this she whipped it, which caused it to yell with tenfold violence. Thereafter, losing all patience, she covered its face and stuffed its mouth with a quantity of snow, and, laying it down on its back, placed a large block of ice on its head. This, as might be expected, had the desired effect, and the baby was silenced,—not, however, until Whackinta had twice called down the hole in a hoarse whisper: “That’ll do, Davie; stop, man, stop!” Then, sitting down on the hummock which Blunderbore had just left—and from behind which he was now eagerly watching her,—she began to weep.Having given full vent to her feelings in a series of convulsive sobs, Whackinta addressed a lengthened harangue, in a melancholy tone of voice, to the audience, the gist of which was that she was an unfortunate widow; that two bears had fallen in love with her, and stolen her away from her happy home in Nova Zembla; and, although they allowed her to walk about as much as she chose, they watched her closely and prevented her escaping to her own country. Worst of all, they had told her that she must agree to become the wife of one or other of them, and if she did not make up her mind, and give them an answer that very day, she was to be killed and eaten by both of them. In order the more strongly to impress the audience with her forlorn condition, Whackinta sang a tender and touching ditty, composed by herself expressly for the occasion, and sang it so well that it was encored twice.To all this Blunderbore listened with apparent rapture, and at length ventured to advance and discover himself, but the instant Whackinta saw him she fell on her knees and trembled violently.“Spare me, good king,” she said; “do not slay me. I am a poor widow, and have been brought here by two bears against my will.”“Woman,” said the Giant, “my name is Blunderbore. I am, as you perceive by my crown, a king, and I am a lonely man. If I kill the two bears you speak of, will you marry me?”“Oh, do not ask me, good Blunderbore, I cannot! It is impossible. I cannot love you; you are—forgive me for saying it—too big, and fierce, and ugly to love.”Blunderbore frowned angrily, and the audience applauded vociferously at this.“You cannot love me! Hah!” exclaimed the Giant, glaring round with clenched teeth.At this moment the Big Bear uttered an awful roar, Whackinta gave a piercing scream and fled, and Blunderbore hid himself hastily behind the hummock. The next moment the two bears bounded on the stage and began to gambol round it, tossing up their hind-legs and roaring and leaping in a manner that drew forth repeated plaudits. At length the Little Bear discovered the baby, and, uttering a frantic roar of delight, took it in its fore-paws and held it up. The Big Bear roared also of course, and, rushing forward, caught the baby by the leg, and endeavoured to tear it away from the Little Bear, at which treatment the poor baby again commenced to cry passionately. In the struggle the baby’s head came off, upon which the Little Bear put the head into its mouth and swallowed it. The Big Bear immediately did the same with the body; but its mouth was too small, and the body stuck fast and could not be finally disposed of until the Little Bear came to the rescue and pushed it forcibly down its throat. Having finished this delicate little morsel, the two bears rose on their hind-legs and danced a hornpipe together—Tom Singleton playing the tune for them on a flute behind the scenes. When this was done they danced off the stage, and immediately, as if in the distance, was heard the voice of a man singing. It came gradually nearer, and at last Buzzby, in the character of Ben Bolt, swaggered up to the foot-lights with his hands in his breeches pockets.“I’m a jolly, jolly tar,Wot has comed from afar,An’ it’s all for to seek my fortin,”sang Buzzby. “But I’ve not found it yit,” he continued, breaking into prose, “and there don’t seem much prospect o’ findin’ it here anyhow. Wot an ’orrible cold place it is, ugh!”Buzzby was received with enthusiastic cheers, for he was dressed in the old familiar blue jacket, white ducks, pumps, and straw hat set jauntily on one side of his head—a costume which had not been seen for so many months by the crew of theDolphinthat their hearts warmed to it as if it were an old friend.Buzzby acted with great spirit and was evidently a prime favourite. He could scarcely recollect a word of his part, but he remembered the general drift of it, and had ready wit enough to extemporise. Having explained that he was the only survivor of a shipwrecked crew, he proceeded to tell some of his adventures in foreign lands, and afterwards described part of his experiences in a song, to which the doctor played an accompaniment behind the scenes. The words were composed by himself, sung to the well-known Scotch air, “Corn Riggs”, and ran as follows:—“The Jolly Tar.“My comrades, you must knowIt was many years agoI left my daddy’s cottage in the green wood O!And I jined a man-o’-warAn’ became a jolly tar,An’ fought for king and country on the high seas O!Pull, boys, cheerily, our home is on the sea.Pull, boys, merrily and lightly O!Pull, boys, cheerily, the wind is passingfreeAn’ whirling up the foam and water sky-high O!“There’s been many a noble fight,But Trafalgar was the sightThat beat the Greeks and Romans in their glory O!For Britain’s jolly sonsWorked the thunder-blazing guns,And Nelson stood the bravest in the fore-front O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“A roaring cannon shotCame an’ hit the very spotWhere my leg goes click-an’-jumble in the socket O!And swept it overboardWith the precious little hoardOf pipe, an’ tin, an’ baccy in the pocket O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“They took me down below,An’ they laid me with a rowOf killed and wounded messmates on a table O!Then up comes Dr Keg,An’ says, Here’s a livin’ legI’ll sew upon the stump if I am able O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“This good and sturdy limbHad belonged to fightin’ Tim,An’ scarcely had they sewed it on the socket O!When up the hatch I flew,An’ dashed among the crew,An’ sprang on board the Frenchman like a rocket O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“’Twas this that gained the day,For that leg it cleared the way—And the battle raged like fury while it lasted O!Then ceased the shot and shellTo fall upon the swell,And the Union-Jack went bravely to the mast-head O!Pull, boys, etcetera.”We need scarcely say that this song was enthusiastically encored, and that the chorus was done full justice to by the audience, who picked it up at once and zang it with lusty vehemence. At the last word Ben Bolt nodded familiarly, thrust his hands into his pockets, and swaggered off whistling “Yankee Doodle”. It was a matter of uncertainty where he had swaggered off to, but it was conjectured that he had gone on his journey to anywhere that might turn up.Meanwhile Blunderbore had been bobbing his head up and down behind the hummock in amazement at what he heard and saw, and when Ben Bolt made his exit he came forward. This was the signal for the two bears to discover him and rush on with a terrific roar. Blunderbore instantly fetched them each a sounding whack on their skulls, leaped over both their backs, and bounded up the side of the iceberg, where he took refuge, and turned at bay on a little ice pinnacle constructed expressly for that purpose.An awful fight now ensued between the Giant and the two bears. The pinnacle on which Blunderbore stood was so low that the Big Bear, by standing up on its hind-legs, could just scratch his toes, which caused the Giant to jump about continually, but the sides of the iceberg were so smooth that the bears could not climb up it. This difficulty, indeed, constituted the great and amusing feature of the fight, for no sooner did the Little Bear creep up to the edge of the pinnacle than the Giant’s tremendous club came violently down on his snout (which had been made of hard wood on purpose to resist the blows) and sent it sprawling back on the stage, where the Big Bear invariably chanced to be in the way, and always fell over it. Then they both rose, and, roaring fearfully, renewed the attack, while Blunderbore laid about him with the club ferociously. Fortune, however, did not on this occasion favour the brave. The Big Bear at last caught the Giant by the heel and pulled him to the ground; the Little Bear instantly seized him by the throat, and, notwithstanding his awful yells and struggles, it would have gone ill with Blunderbore had not Ben Bolt opportunely arrived at that identical spot at that identical moment in the course of his travels.Oh! it was a glorious thing to see the fear-nothing, dare-anything fashion in which, when he saw how matters stood, Ben Bolt threw down his stick and bundle, drew his cutlass, and attacked the two bears at once, single-handed, crying “Come on,” in a voice of thunder. And it was a satisfactory thing to behold the way in which he cut and slashed at their heads (the heads having been previously prepared for such treatment), and the agility he displayed in leaping over their backs and under their legs, and holding on by their tails, while they vainly endeavoured to catch him. The applause was frequent and prolonged, and the two Esquimaux prisoners rolled about their burly figures and laughed till the tears ran down their fat cheeks. But when Ben Bolt suddenly caught the two bears by their tails, tied them together in a double knot, and fled behind a hummock, which the Big Bear passed on one side and the little Bear on the other, and so, as a matter of course, stuck hard and fast, the laughter was excessive; and when the gallant British seaman again rushed forward, massacred the Big Bear with two terrific cuts, slew the Little Bear with one tremendous back-hander, and then sank down on one knee and pressed his hand to his brow as if he were exhausted, a cheer ran from stem to stern of theDolphinthe like of which had not filled the hull of that good ship since she was launched upon her ocean home!It was just at this moment that Whackinta chanced, curiously enough, to return to this spot in the course ofherwanderings. She screamed in horror at the sight of the dead bears, which was quite proper and natural, and then she started at the sight of the exhausted Bolt, and smiled sweetly—which was also natural—as she hastened to assist and sympathise with him. Ben Bolt fell in love with her at once, and told her so off-hand, to the unutterable rage of Blunderbore, who recovered from his wounds at that moment and, seizing the sailor by the throat, vowed he would kill, and quarter, and stew, and boil, and roast, and eat him in one minute if he didn’t take care what he was about.The audience felt some fears for Ben Bolt at this point, but their delight knew no bounds when, shaking the Giant off, and springing backwards, he buttoned up his coat and roared, rather than said, that though he were all the Blunderbores and Blunderbusses in the world rolled together, and changed into one immortal blunder-cannon, he didn’t care a pinch of bad snuff for him, and would knock all the teeth in his head down his throat. This valorous threat he followed up by shaking his fist close under the Giant’s nose, and crying out: “Come on!”But the Giant did not come on; he fortunately recollected that he owed his life to the brave sailor, so he smiled, and, saying he would be his friend through life, insisted on seizing him by the hand and shaking it violently. Thereafter he took Ben Bolt and Whackinta by their right hands, and, leading them forward to the foot-lights, made them a long speech to the effect that he owed a debt of gratitude to the former for saving his life which he could never repay, and that he loved the latter too sincerely to stand in the way of her happiness. Then he joined their right hands, and they went down on one knee, and he placed his hands on their heads, and looked up at the audience with a benignant smile, and the curtain fell amid rapturous cheers.In this play it seemed somewhat curious and unaccountable that Whackinta forgot to enquire for her demolished baby, and appeared to feel no anxiety whatever about it; it was also left a matter of uncertainty whether Ben Bolt and his Esquimaux bride returned to live happily during the remainder of their lives in England, or took up their permanent abode with Blunderbore; but it is not our province to criticise—we merely chronicle events as they occurred.The entertainments were to conclude with a hornpipe from Mivins, but just as that elastic individual had completed the first of a series of complicated evolutions, and was about to commence the second, a vociferous barking of the dogs was heard outside, accompanied by the sound of human voices. The benches were deserted in a moment and the men rushed upon deck, catching up muskets and cutlasses, which always stood in readiness, as they went. The sounds proceeded from a party of about twenty Esquimaux, who had been sent from the camp with the stolen property, and with a humble request that the offence might be forgiven, and their chief and his wife returned to them. They were all unarmed, and the sincerity of their repentance was further attested by the fact that they brought back, not only the hatchet and telescope, but a large assortment of minor articles that had not been missed.Of course the apology was accepted; and after speeches were delivered, and protestations of undying friendship made on both sides, the party were presented with a few trinkets and a plug of tobacco each, and sent back in a state of supreme happiness to their village, where for a week Awatok kept the men of his tribe, and Aninga the women, in a state of intense amazement by their minute descriptions of the remarkable doings of the white strangers.The friendship thus begun between the Esquimaux and theDolphin’screw was never once interrupted by any unpleasant collision during the months that they afterwards travelled and hunted in company. Strength of muscle and promptitude in action are qualities which all nations in a savage state understand and respect; and the sailors proved that they possessed these qualities in a higher degree than themselves during the hardships and dangers incident to Arctic life, while at the same time their seemingly endless resources and contrivances impressed the simple natives with the belief that white men could accomplish anything they chose to attempt.

The 1st of December was a great day on board theDolphin, for on that day it was announced to the crew that “The Arctic Theatre” would be opened, under the able management of Mr F. Ellice, with the play of “Blunderbore; or, The Arctic Giant”. The bill, of which two copies were issued gratis to the crew, announced that the celebrated Peter Grim, Esquire, who had so long trodden the boards of theDolphinwith unparalleled success, had kindly consented to appear in the character ofBlunderborefor one winter only. The other parts were as follows:—Whackinta, a beautiful Esquimaux widow, who had been captured by two Polar bears, both of which were deeply in love with her, by Frederick Ellice, Esquire.First Bear, a big one, by Terence O’Riley, Esquire.Second Bear, a little one, by David Summers, Esquire.Ben Bolt, a brave British seaman, who had been wrecked in Blunderbore’s desolate dominions, all the crew having perished except himself, by John Buzzby, Esquire. These constituted the various characters of the piece, the name of which had been kept a profound secret from the crew until the morning of the day on which it was acted.

Fred’s duties as manager and author upon this occasion were by no means light, for his troop, being unaccustomed to study, found the utmost difficulty in committing the simplest sentences to memory. O’Riley turned out to be the sharpest among them, but having agreed to impersonate the First Bear, and having to act his part in dumb show—bears not being supposed capable of speech—his powers of memory had not to be exerted. Grim was also pretty good, but Davie Summers could not be got to remember even the general arrangements of the piece; and as for Buzzby, he no sooner mastered a line than he forgot the one before it, and almost gave it up in despair; but by dint of much study and many rehearsals in secret, under the superintendence of Fred and Tom Singleton, who undertook to assist, they succeeded at last in going through with it, with only a few mistakes.

On the morning of the 1st December, while the most of the crew were away at Red Snow Valley cutting moss, Fred collected hisCorps Dramatiquefor a last rehearsal in the forecastle, where they were secure from interruption, the place being so cold that no one would willingly go into it except under the force of necessity. A dim lantern lit up the apartment faintly.

“We must do it without a mistake this time,” said Fred Ellice, opening his book and calling upon Grim to begin.

“’Tis cold,” began Grim.

“Stop, you’re wrong.”

“Oh, so I am!” cried Grim, slapping his thigh; “I’ll begin again.” It may be remarked here that although Blunderbore was supposed to be an Esquimaux monarch, he was compelled to speak English, being unfortunately ignorant—if we may so speak—of his native tongue!

“Oh! ’tis a dismal thing,” began Grim again, “to dwell in solitude and cold! ’Tis very cold,” (Grim shuddered here tremendously) “and—and— what’s next?”

“Hunger,” said Fred.

“Hunger gnaws my vitals. My name is Blunderbore. ’Twere better had I been born a Blunderbuss, ’cause then I havegone offand dwelt in climes more shootable to my tender constitoosion. Ha! is that a bear I sees before me?”

“It’s notsees,” interrupted Fred.

At this moment a tremendous roar was heard, and O’Riley bounded from behind a top-sail which represented an iceberg, dressed from head to foot in the skin of a white bear which had been killed a few days before.

“Stop, O’Riley,” cried Fred, “you’re too soon, man.Ihave to come on first as an Esquimaux woman, and when Grim says to the woman he wishes he could see a bear,thenyou are to come.”

“Och! whirra, but me brains is confuged intirely wid it all,” said O’Riley, rising on his hind-legs and walking off with his tail, literally as well as figuratively, between his legs.

“Now, Buzzby, now; it’syourtime—when you hear the word ‘misery’ come on and fight like a Trojan with the bears. The doctor will remind you.”

Fred was remarkably patient and painstaking, and his pupils, though not apt scholars, were willing, so that the morning rehearsal was gone through with fewer mistakes than might have been expected, and when the crew came back to dinner about mid-day, which, however, was as dark as midnight, their parts were sufficiently well got up, and nothing remained to be done but to arrange the stage and scenery for the evening’s entertainment—it having been resolved that the performance should commence after supper. The stage was at the after part of the cabin, and raised about a foot above the deck, and its management had been intrusted to the doctor, who, assisted by Peter Grim, transformed that portion of the ship into a scene so romantically beautiful that the first sight of it petrified the crew with surprise. But until the curtain should rise all arrangements were carefully concealed from everyone except thedramatis personae. Even the captain and officers were forbidden to peep behind the sail that formed a curtain to the stage, and this secrecy, besides being necessary, was extremely useful, inasmuch as it excited the curiosity of the men and afforded them food for converse and speculation, for a week before the great day arrived.

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

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

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

For a few seconds a dead silence reigned, for the men were stricken dumb with genuine amazement at the scene before them. The stage was covered with white sheets arranged in such a manner as to represent snow, and the more effectually to carry out the idea, several huge blocks of real ice and a few patches of snow were introduced here and there, the cold in the after-part of the cabin being too great to permit of their melting. A top-gallant sail, on which were painted several blue cracks and some strong white lights, did duty for an iceberg, and filled up the whole back of the scene. In front of this, in the centre of the stage, on an extemporised hummock, sat Peter Grim as the Giant Blunderbore. His colossal proportions were enhanced by the addition of an entire white bearskin to his ordinary hairy dress, and which was thrown round his broad shoulders in the form of a tippet. A broad scarlet sash was tied round his waist, and a crown of brown paper, painted in alternate diamonds of blue, red, and yellow, sat upon his brow. Grim was in truth a magnificent-looking fellow, with his black beard and moustache; and the mock-heroic frown with which he gazed up (as one of the audience suggested) at the Aurora Borealis, while he grasped an enormous club in his right hand, became him well.

The first few seconds of dead silence, with which this was received, were succeeded by a long and loud burst of applause, the heartiness of which plainly showed that the scene far exceeded the expectations of the men.

“Bravo!” cried the captain, “excellent! nothing could be better.”

“It beats natur, quite,” said one.

“All to sticks,” cried another.

“And wot a tree-mendous giant he makes. Three cheers for Peter Grim, lads!”

Three cheers were promptly given, with right good-will, but the Giant did not move a muscle. He was far too deeply impressed with the importance of playing his part well to acknowledge the compliment. Having gazed long enough to enable the men to get rid of their first flow of enthusiasm, Blunderbore rose majestically, and, coming forward to the foot-lights, looked straight over the heads of the men, and addressed himself to the opposite bulkhead.

“Oh! ’tis a dismal thing,” he began, and continued to spout his part with flashing eyes and considerable energy until he came to the word Blunderbuss, when, either from a mistaken notion as to when it was his time to go on, or nervous forgetfulness of the plan of the piece, the Little Bear sprang over the edge of the iceberg and alighted on the middle of the stage.

“Oh! bad luck to yees intirely,” said the Big Bear from behind the scenes in an angry whisper, which was distinctly heard by the audience, “ye’ve gone and spoiled it all, ye have. Come off, will ye, and take yer turn at the right time, won’t ye?”

In the midst of the shout of delight caused by this mistake, O’Riley, forgetting that he was a bear, rushed on the stage on his hind-legs, seized the Little Bear by the fore-leg, and dragged him off at the other side amid loud applause. Blunderbore, with admirable self-possession, resumed his part the instant there was a calm, and carried it successfully to a close.

Just as he ended, Fred waddled on, in the guise of an Esquimaux woman, and so well was he got up that the crew looked round to see if Aninga (who, with her husband, had been allowed to witness the play) was in her place. Fred had intentionally taken Aninga as his model, and had been very successful in imitating the top-knot of hair. The baby, too, was hit off to perfection, having been made by Mivins, who proved himself a genius in such matters. Its head was a ball of rags covered with brown leather, and two white bone buttons with black spots in the centre did duty for its eyes.

The first thing Whackinta did on coming forward was to deposit the baby on the snow with its head downwards by mistake, whereat it began to scream vociferously. This scream was accomplished by Davie Summers creeping below the stage and putting his mouth to a hole in the flooring close to which the baby’s head lay. Davie’s falsetto was uncommonly like to a child’s voice, and the effect was quite startling. Of course Whackinta tried to soothe it, and, failing in this she whipped it, which caused it to yell with tenfold violence. Thereafter, losing all patience, she covered its face and stuffed its mouth with a quantity of snow, and, laying it down on its back, placed a large block of ice on its head. This, as might be expected, had the desired effect, and the baby was silenced,—not, however, until Whackinta had twice called down the hole in a hoarse whisper: “That’ll do, Davie; stop, man, stop!” Then, sitting down on the hummock which Blunderbore had just left—and from behind which he was now eagerly watching her,—she began to weep.

Having given full vent to her feelings in a series of convulsive sobs, Whackinta addressed a lengthened harangue, in a melancholy tone of voice, to the audience, the gist of which was that she was an unfortunate widow; that two bears had fallen in love with her, and stolen her away from her happy home in Nova Zembla; and, although they allowed her to walk about as much as she chose, they watched her closely and prevented her escaping to her own country. Worst of all, they had told her that she must agree to become the wife of one or other of them, and if she did not make up her mind, and give them an answer that very day, she was to be killed and eaten by both of them. In order the more strongly to impress the audience with her forlorn condition, Whackinta sang a tender and touching ditty, composed by herself expressly for the occasion, and sang it so well that it was encored twice.

To all this Blunderbore listened with apparent rapture, and at length ventured to advance and discover himself, but the instant Whackinta saw him she fell on her knees and trembled violently.

“Spare me, good king,” she said; “do not slay me. I am a poor widow, and have been brought here by two bears against my will.”

“Woman,” said the Giant, “my name is Blunderbore. I am, as you perceive by my crown, a king, and I am a lonely man. If I kill the two bears you speak of, will you marry me?”

“Oh, do not ask me, good Blunderbore, I cannot! It is impossible. I cannot love you; you are—forgive me for saying it—too big, and fierce, and ugly to love.”

Blunderbore frowned angrily, and the audience applauded vociferously at this.

“You cannot love me! Hah!” exclaimed the Giant, glaring round with clenched teeth.

At this moment the Big Bear uttered an awful roar, Whackinta gave a piercing scream and fled, and Blunderbore hid himself hastily behind the hummock. The next moment the two bears bounded on the stage and began to gambol round it, tossing up their hind-legs and roaring and leaping in a manner that drew forth repeated plaudits. At length the Little Bear discovered the baby, and, uttering a frantic roar of delight, took it in its fore-paws and held it up. The Big Bear roared also of course, and, rushing forward, caught the baby by the leg, and endeavoured to tear it away from the Little Bear, at which treatment the poor baby again commenced to cry passionately. In the struggle the baby’s head came off, upon which the Little Bear put the head into its mouth and swallowed it. The Big Bear immediately did the same with the body; but its mouth was too small, and the body stuck fast and could not be finally disposed of until the Little Bear came to the rescue and pushed it forcibly down its throat. Having finished this delicate little morsel, the two bears rose on their hind-legs and danced a hornpipe together—Tom Singleton playing the tune for them on a flute behind the scenes. When this was done they danced off the stage, and immediately, as if in the distance, was heard the voice of a man singing. It came gradually nearer, and at last Buzzby, in the character of Ben Bolt, swaggered up to the foot-lights with his hands in his breeches pockets.

“I’m a jolly, jolly tar,Wot has comed from afar,An’ it’s all for to seek my fortin,”

“I’m a jolly, jolly tar,Wot has comed from afar,An’ it’s all for to seek my fortin,”

sang Buzzby. “But I’ve not found it yit,” he continued, breaking into prose, “and there don’t seem much prospect o’ findin’ it here anyhow. Wot an ’orrible cold place it is, ugh!”

Buzzby was received with enthusiastic cheers, for he was dressed in the old familiar blue jacket, white ducks, pumps, and straw hat set jauntily on one side of his head—a costume which had not been seen for so many months by the crew of theDolphinthat their hearts warmed to it as if it were an old friend.

Buzzby acted with great spirit and was evidently a prime favourite. He could scarcely recollect a word of his part, but he remembered the general drift of it, and had ready wit enough to extemporise. Having explained that he was the only survivor of a shipwrecked crew, he proceeded to tell some of his adventures in foreign lands, and afterwards described part of his experiences in a song, to which the doctor played an accompaniment behind the scenes. The words were composed by himself, sung to the well-known Scotch air, “Corn Riggs”, and ran as follows:—

“The Jolly Tar.

“My comrades, you must knowIt was many years agoI left my daddy’s cottage in the green wood O!And I jined a man-o’-warAn’ became a jolly tar,An’ fought for king and country on the high seas O!Pull, boys, cheerily, our home is on the sea.Pull, boys, merrily and lightly O!Pull, boys, cheerily, the wind is passingfreeAn’ whirling up the foam and water sky-high O!“There’s been many a noble fight,But Trafalgar was the sightThat beat the Greeks and Romans in their glory O!For Britain’s jolly sonsWorked the thunder-blazing guns,And Nelson stood the bravest in the fore-front O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“A roaring cannon shotCame an’ hit the very spotWhere my leg goes click-an’-jumble in the socket O!And swept it overboardWith the precious little hoardOf pipe, an’ tin, an’ baccy in the pocket O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“They took me down below,An’ they laid me with a rowOf killed and wounded messmates on a table O!Then up comes Dr Keg,An’ says, Here’s a livin’ legI’ll sew upon the stump if I am able O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“This good and sturdy limbHad belonged to fightin’ Tim,An’ scarcely had they sewed it on the socket O!When up the hatch I flew,An’ dashed among the crew,An’ sprang on board the Frenchman like a rocket O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“’Twas this that gained the day,For that leg it cleared the way—And the battle raged like fury while it lasted O!Then ceased the shot and shellTo fall upon the swell,And the Union-Jack went bravely to the mast-head O!Pull, boys, etcetera.”

“My comrades, you must knowIt was many years agoI left my daddy’s cottage in the green wood O!And I jined a man-o’-warAn’ became a jolly tar,An’ fought for king and country on the high seas O!Pull, boys, cheerily, our home is on the sea.Pull, boys, merrily and lightly O!Pull, boys, cheerily, the wind is passingfreeAn’ whirling up the foam and water sky-high O!“There’s been many a noble fight,But Trafalgar was the sightThat beat the Greeks and Romans in their glory O!For Britain’s jolly sonsWorked the thunder-blazing guns,And Nelson stood the bravest in the fore-front O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“A roaring cannon shotCame an’ hit the very spotWhere my leg goes click-an’-jumble in the socket O!And swept it overboardWith the precious little hoardOf pipe, an’ tin, an’ baccy in the pocket O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“They took me down below,An’ they laid me with a rowOf killed and wounded messmates on a table O!Then up comes Dr Keg,An’ says, Here’s a livin’ legI’ll sew upon the stump if I am able O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“This good and sturdy limbHad belonged to fightin’ Tim,An’ scarcely had they sewed it on the socket O!When up the hatch I flew,An’ dashed among the crew,An’ sprang on board the Frenchman like a rocket O!Pull, boys, etcetera.“’Twas this that gained the day,For that leg it cleared the way—And the battle raged like fury while it lasted O!Then ceased the shot and shellTo fall upon the swell,And the Union-Jack went bravely to the mast-head O!Pull, boys, etcetera.”

We need scarcely say that this song was enthusiastically encored, and that the chorus was done full justice to by the audience, who picked it up at once and zang it with lusty vehemence. At the last word Ben Bolt nodded familiarly, thrust his hands into his pockets, and swaggered off whistling “Yankee Doodle”. It was a matter of uncertainty where he had swaggered off to, but it was conjectured that he had gone on his journey to anywhere that might turn up.

Meanwhile Blunderbore had been bobbing his head up and down behind the hummock in amazement at what he heard and saw, and when Ben Bolt made his exit he came forward. This was the signal for the two bears to discover him and rush on with a terrific roar. Blunderbore instantly fetched them each a sounding whack on their skulls, leaped over both their backs, and bounded up the side of the iceberg, where he took refuge, and turned at bay on a little ice pinnacle constructed expressly for that purpose.

An awful fight now ensued between the Giant and the two bears. The pinnacle on which Blunderbore stood was so low that the Big Bear, by standing up on its hind-legs, could just scratch his toes, which caused the Giant to jump about continually, but the sides of the iceberg were so smooth that the bears could not climb up it. This difficulty, indeed, constituted the great and amusing feature of the fight, for no sooner did the Little Bear creep up to the edge of the pinnacle than the Giant’s tremendous club came violently down on his snout (which had been made of hard wood on purpose to resist the blows) and sent it sprawling back on the stage, where the Big Bear invariably chanced to be in the way, and always fell over it. Then they both rose, and, roaring fearfully, renewed the attack, while Blunderbore laid about him with the club ferociously. Fortune, however, did not on this occasion favour the brave. The Big Bear at last caught the Giant by the heel and pulled him to the ground; the Little Bear instantly seized him by the throat, and, notwithstanding his awful yells and struggles, it would have gone ill with Blunderbore had not Ben Bolt opportunely arrived at that identical spot at that identical moment in the course of his travels.

Oh! it was a glorious thing to see the fear-nothing, dare-anything fashion in which, when he saw how matters stood, Ben Bolt threw down his stick and bundle, drew his cutlass, and attacked the two bears at once, single-handed, crying “Come on,” in a voice of thunder. And it was a satisfactory thing to behold the way in which he cut and slashed at their heads (the heads having been previously prepared for such treatment), and the agility he displayed in leaping over their backs and under their legs, and holding on by their tails, while they vainly endeavoured to catch him. The applause was frequent and prolonged, and the two Esquimaux prisoners rolled about their burly figures and laughed till the tears ran down their fat cheeks. But when Ben Bolt suddenly caught the two bears by their tails, tied them together in a double knot, and fled behind a hummock, which the Big Bear passed on one side and the little Bear on the other, and so, as a matter of course, stuck hard and fast, the laughter was excessive; and when the gallant British seaman again rushed forward, massacred the Big Bear with two terrific cuts, slew the Little Bear with one tremendous back-hander, and then sank down on one knee and pressed his hand to his brow as if he were exhausted, a cheer ran from stem to stern of theDolphinthe like of which had not filled the hull of that good ship since she was launched upon her ocean home!

It was just at this moment that Whackinta chanced, curiously enough, to return to this spot in the course ofherwanderings. She screamed in horror at the sight of the dead bears, which was quite proper and natural, and then she started at the sight of the exhausted Bolt, and smiled sweetly—which was also natural—as she hastened to assist and sympathise with him. Ben Bolt fell in love with her at once, and told her so off-hand, to the unutterable rage of Blunderbore, who recovered from his wounds at that moment and, seizing the sailor by the throat, vowed he would kill, and quarter, and stew, and boil, and roast, and eat him in one minute if he didn’t take care what he was about.

The audience felt some fears for Ben Bolt at this point, but their delight knew no bounds when, shaking the Giant off, and springing backwards, he buttoned up his coat and roared, rather than said, that though he were all the Blunderbores and Blunderbusses in the world rolled together, and changed into one immortal blunder-cannon, he didn’t care a pinch of bad snuff for him, and would knock all the teeth in his head down his throat. This valorous threat he followed up by shaking his fist close under the Giant’s nose, and crying out: “Come on!”

But the Giant did not come on; he fortunately recollected that he owed his life to the brave sailor, so he smiled, and, saying he would be his friend through life, insisted on seizing him by the hand and shaking it violently. Thereafter he took Ben Bolt and Whackinta by their right hands, and, leading them forward to the foot-lights, made them a long speech to the effect that he owed a debt of gratitude to the former for saving his life which he could never repay, and that he loved the latter too sincerely to stand in the way of her happiness. Then he joined their right hands, and they went down on one knee, and he placed his hands on their heads, and looked up at the audience with a benignant smile, and the curtain fell amid rapturous cheers.

In this play it seemed somewhat curious and unaccountable that Whackinta forgot to enquire for her demolished baby, and appeared to feel no anxiety whatever about it; it was also left a matter of uncertainty whether Ben Bolt and his Esquimaux bride returned to live happily during the remainder of their lives in England, or took up their permanent abode with Blunderbore; but it is not our province to criticise—we merely chronicle events as they occurred.

The entertainments were to conclude with a hornpipe from Mivins, but just as that elastic individual had completed the first of a series of complicated evolutions, and was about to commence the second, a vociferous barking of the dogs was heard outside, accompanied by the sound of human voices. The benches were deserted in a moment and the men rushed upon deck, catching up muskets and cutlasses, which always stood in readiness, as they went. The sounds proceeded from a party of about twenty Esquimaux, who had been sent from the camp with the stolen property, and with a humble request that the offence might be forgiven, and their chief and his wife returned to them. They were all unarmed, and the sincerity of their repentance was further attested by the fact that they brought back, not only the hatchet and telescope, but a large assortment of minor articles that had not been missed.

Of course the apology was accepted; and after speeches were delivered, and protestations of undying friendship made on both sides, the party were presented with a few trinkets and a plug of tobacco each, and sent back in a state of supreme happiness to their village, where for a week Awatok kept the men of his tribe, and Aninga the women, in a state of intense amazement by their minute descriptions of the remarkable doings of the white strangers.

The friendship thus begun between the Esquimaux and theDolphin’screw was never once interrupted by any unpleasant collision during the months that they afterwards travelled and hunted in company. Strength of muscle and promptitude in action are qualities which all nations in a savage state understand and respect; and the sailors proved that they possessed these qualities in a higher degree than themselves during the hardships and dangers incident to Arctic life, while at the same time their seemingly endless resources and contrivances impressed the simple natives with the belief that white men could accomplish anything they chose to attempt.

Chapter Seventeen.Expeditions on Foot—Effects of Darkness on Dogs and Men—The first Death—Caught in a Trap—The Esquimaux Camp.“Don’t know how it is, an’ I can’t tell wot it is, but so it is,” remarked Buzzby to Grim, a week after the first night of the theatricals, “that that ’ere actin’ has done us all a sight o’ good. Here we are as merry as crickets every one, although we’re short of fresh meat, and symptoms o’ scurvy are beginnin’ to show on some of us.”“It’s the mind havin’ occupation, an’ bein’ prewented from broodin’ over its misfortins,” replied Grim with the air of a philosopher.Grim did not put this remark in turned commas, although he ought to have done so, seeing that it was quoted from a speech made by the captain to Singleton the day before.“You see,” continued Grim, “we’ve been actin’ every night for a week past; well, if we hadn’t been actin’, we should ha’ been thinkin’ an’ sleepin’—too much of which, you see, ain’t good for us, Buzzby, and would never pay.”Buzzby was not quite sure of this, but contented himself by saying: “Well, mayhap ye’re right. I’m sorry it’s to come to an end so soon, but there is no doubt that fresh meat is ondispensable—an’ that reminds me, messmate, that I’ve not cleaned my musket for two days, an’ it wouldn’t do to go on a hunt with a foul piece, nohow. We start at 10 o’clock a.m., don’t we?”Grim admitted that they did—remarking that it might just as well be 10 p.m., for all the difference thesunwould make in it—and went below with Buzzby.In the cabin active preparations were making for an extended hunting expedition, which the empty state of the larder rendered absolutely necessary. For a week past the only fresh provisions they had procured were a white fox and a rabbit, notwithstanding the exertions of Meetuck, Fred, and the doctor, who with three separate parties had scoured the country for miles round the ship. Scurvy was now beginning to appear among them, and Captain Guy felt that although they had enough of salt provisions to last them the greater part of the winter, if used with economy, they could not possibly subsist on these alone. An extended expedition in search of seals and walrus was therefore projected.It was determined that this should consist of two parties, the one to proceed north, the other to travel south in the tracks of the Esquimaux, who had left their temporary village in search of walrus—they also being reduced almost to a state of starvation.The plan of the expedition was as follows:—One party, consisting of ten men, under Bolton, the first mate, was to take the largest sledge, and the whole team of dogs, on which, with twelve days’ provisions and their sleeping-bags, they were to proceed northward along the coast as far as possible; and, in the event of being unsuccessful, they were to turn homeward on the eighth day, and make the best of their way back on short allowance.The other party, consisting of fifteen men under Saunders, the second mate, was to set off to the southward on foot, dragging a smaller sledge behind them, and endeavour to find the Esquimaux, who, it was supposed, could not be far off, and would probably have fresh meat in their camp.It was a clear, cold, and beautiful starlight day, when the two parties started simultaneously on their separate journeys. The coruscations of the aurora were more than usually vivid, and the snow gave forth that sharp, dry,crunchingsound, under the heels of the men as they moved about, that denotes intense frost.“Mind that you hug the land, Mr Bolton,” said the captain at parting, “don’t get farther out on the floes than you can help. To meet with a gale on the ice is no joke in these latitudes.”The first mate promised obedience, and the second mate having been also cautioned to hug the land, and not to use their small supply of spirits for any other purpose than that of lighting the lamp, except in cases of the most urgent need, they set off with three hearty cheers, which were returned by Captain Guy and those who remained with him in the ship. All the able and effective men were sent on these expeditions; those who remained behind were all more or less affected with scurvy, except the captain himself, whose energetic nature seemed invulnerable, and whose flow of spirits never failed. Indeed it is probable that to this hearty and vigorous temperament, under God, he owed his immunity from disease, for, since provisions began to fail, he, along with all his officers, had fared precisely like the men—the few delicacies they possessed having been reserved for the sick.Unfortunately their stock of lime-juice was now getting low, and the crew had to be put on short allowance. As this acid is an excellent anti-scorbutic, or preventive of scurvy, as well as a cure, its rapid diminution was viewed with much concern by all on board. The long-continued absence of the sun, too, now began to tell more severely than ever on men and dogs. On the very day the expeditions took their departure, one of the latter, which had been left behind on account of illness, was attacked with a strange disease, of which several of the team eventually died before the winter came to an end. It was seized with spasms, and, after a few wild paroxysms, lapsed into a lethargic state. In this condition the animal functions went on apparently as well as usual, the appetite continued not only good but voracious. The disease was clearly mental. It barked furiously at nothing, and walked in straight or curved lines perseveringly; or at other times it remained for hours in moody silence, and then started off howling as if pursued. In thirty-six hours after the first attack the poor animal died, and was buried in the snow on Store Island.This was the first death that had occurred on board, and although it was only a dog, and not one of the favourites, its loss cast a gloom over the crew for several days. It was the first blow of the fell destroyer in the midst of their little community, which could ill spare the life even of one of the lower animals, and they felt as if the point of the wedge had now been entered, and might be driven farther home ere long.The expressive delight of the poor dogs on being admitted to the light of the cabin showed how ardently they longed for the return of the sun. It was now the beginning of December, and the darkness was complete. Not the faintest vestige of twilight appeared, even at noon. Midnight and noonday were alike. Except when the stars and aurora were bright, there was not light enough to distinguish a man’s form at ten paces distant, and a blacker mass than the surrounding darkness alone indicated where the high cliffs encompassed the Bay of Mercy. When, therefore, anyone came on deck, the first thing he felt on groping his way about was the cold noses of the dogs pushed against his hands, as they frisked and gambolled round him. They howled at the appearance of an accidental light, as if they hoped the sun, or at least the moon, were going to rise once more, and they rejoiced on being taken below, and leaped up in the men’s faces for sympathy, and whined, and all but spoke, with excess of satisfaction.The effect of the monotony of long-continued darkness, and the absence of novelty, had much to do also with the indifferent health of many of the men. After the two expeditions were sent out, those who remained behind became much more low-spirited, and the symptoms of scurvy increased. In these circumstances Captain Guy taxed his inventive genius to the utmost to keep up their spirits and engage their minds. He assumed an air of bustling activity, and attached a degree of importance to the regular performance of the light duties of the ship that they did not in reality possess, apart from their influence as discipline. The cabin was swept and aired, the stove cleaned, the fittings dusted, the beds made, the tides, thermometers, and barometers registered; the logs posted up, clothes mended, food cooked, traps visited, etcetera, with the regularity of clockwork, and every possible plan adopted to occupy every waking hour, and to prevent the men from brooding over their position. When the labours of the day were over, plans were proposed for getting up a concert, or a new play, in order to surprise the absentees on their return. Stories were told over and over again, and enjoyed if good, or valued far beyond their worth if bad. When old stories failed, and old books were read, new stories were invented, and here the genius of some was drawn out, while the varied information of others became of great importance. Tom Singleton, in particular, entertained the men with songs and lively tunes on the flute, and told stories, as one of them remarked, “like a book”. Joseph West, too, was an invaluable comrade in this respect. He had been a studious boy at school, and a lover of books of all kinds, especially books of travel and adventure. His memory was good, and his inventive powers excellent, so that he recalled wonderful and endless anecdotes from the unfathomable stores of his memory, strung them together into a sort of story, and told them in a soft, pleasant voice that captivated the ears of his audience; but poor West was in delicate health, and could not speak so long as his messmates would have wished. The rough life they led, and the frequent exposure to intense cold, had considerably weakened a frame which had never been robust, and an occasional cough, when he told a long story, sometimes warned him to desist. Games, too, were got up. “Hide-and-seek” was revived with all the enthusiasm of boyhood, and “fox-chase” was got up with tremendous energy. In all this the captain was the most earnest and vigorous, and in doing good to others he unconsciously did the greatest possible amount of good to himself; for his forgetfulness of self, and the activity of his mind in catering for the wants and amusements of his men, had the effect of imparting a cheerfulness to his manner, and a healthy tone to his mind, that tended powerfully to sustain and invigorate his body. But despite all this, the men grew worse, and a few of them showed such alarming symptoms that the doctor began to fear there would soon be a breach in their numbers.Meanwhile Saunders and his fifteen men trudged steadily to the southward, dragging their sledge behind them. The ice-floes, however, turned out to be very rugged and hummocky, and retarded them so much that they made but slow progress until they passed the Red Snow Valley, and doubled the point beyond it. Here they left the floes, and took to the natural highway afforded by the ice-belt, along which they sped more rapidly, and arrived at the Esquimaux village in the course of about five hours.Here all was deserted and silent. Bits of seal and walrus, hide, and bones and tusks were scattered about in all directions, but no voices issued from the dome-shaped huts of snow.“They’re the likest things to bee-skeps I ever saw,” remarked Saunders, as he and his party stood contemplating the little group of huts. “And they don’t seem to care much for big doors.”Saunders referred here to the low tunnels, varying from three to twelve feet, that formed the entrance to each hut.“Mayhap there’s some o’ them asleep inside,” suggested Tom Green, the carpenter’s mate; “suppose we go in and see?”“I dare say ye’re no far wrong,” replied the second mate, to whom the idea seemed to be a new one. “Go in, Davie Summers, ye’re a wee chap, and can bend your back better than the most o’ us.”Davie laughed as he went down on his hands and knees, and, creeping in at the mouth of one of the tunnels, which barely permitted him to enter in that position, disappeared.Several of the party at the same time paid similar visits to the other huts, but they all returned with the same remark, “empty”. The interiors were begrimed with lamp-black and filth, and, from their appearance, seemed to have been deserted only a short time before.Buzzby, who formed one of the party, rubbed his nose for some time in great perplexity, until he drew from Davie Summers the remark that his proboscis was red enough by nature and didn’t need rubbing. “It’s odd,” he remarked, “they seems to ha’ bin here for some time, and yit they’ve niver looked near the ship but once. Wot’s become on ’emIdon’t know.”“Don’t you?” said Davie in a tone of surprise; “now thatisodd. One would have thought that a fellow who keeps his weather-eye so constantly open should know everything.”“Don’t chaff; boy, but lend a hand to undo the sled-lashings. I see that Mr Saunders is agoin’ to anchor here for the night.”The second mate, who had been taking a hasty glance at the various huts of the village, selected two of the largest as a lodging for his men, and, having divided them into two gangs, ordered them to turn in and sleep as hard as possible.“’Spose we may sup first,” said Summers in a whining tone of mock humility.“In coorse you may,” answered Tom Green, giving the lad a push that upset him in the snow.“Come here, Buzzby, I want to speak to ’ee,” said Saunders, leading him aside. “It seems to me that the Esquimaux canna be very far off, and I observe their tracks are quite fresh in the snow leadin’ to the southward, so I mean to have a night march after them, but as the men seem pretty weel tired I’ll only take two o’ the strongest. Who d’ye think might go?”“I’ll go myself, sir.”“Very good, and who else, think ’ee? Amos Parr seems freshest.”“I think Tom Green’s the man wot can do it. I seed him capsize Davie Summers jist now in the snow, an’ when a man can skylark, I always know he’s got lots o’ wind in ’im.”“Very good. Then go, Buzzby, and order him to get ready, and look sharp about it.”“Ay, ay, sir,” cried Buzzby, as he turned to prepare Green for the march.In pursuance of this plan, an hour afterwards Saunders and his two followers left the camp with their sleeping-bags and a day’s provisions on their shoulders, having instructed the men to follow with the sledge at the end of five hours, which period was deemed sufficient time for rest and refreshment.For two hours the trio plodded silently onward over the icebelt by the light of a clear, starry sky. At the end of that time clouds began to gather to the westward, rendering the way less distinct, but still leaving sufficient light to render travelling tolerably easy. Then they came to a part of the coast where the ice-belt clung close to a line of perpendicular cliffs of about three miles in extent. The ice-belt here was about twenty feet broad. On the left the cliffs referred to rose sheer up several hundred feet; on the right the ice-belt descended only about three feet to the floes. Here our three adventurous travellers were unexpectedly caught in a trap. The tide rose so high that it raised the sea ice to a level with the ice-belt and, welling up between the two, completely overflowed the latter.The travellers pushed on as quickly as possible, for the precipices on their left forbade all hope of escape in that direction, while the gap between the ice-belt and the floes, which was filled with a gurgling mixture of ice and water, equally hemmed them in on the right. Worse than all, the tide continued to rise, and when it reached half-way to their knees, they found it dangerous to advance for fear of stepping into rents and fissures which were no longer visible.“What’s to be done noo?” enquired Saunders, coming to a full stop, and turning to Buzzby with a look of blank despair.“Dunno,” replied Buzzby, with an equally blank look of despair, as he stood with his legs apart and his arms hanging down by his side—the very personification of imbecility. “If I wos a fly I’d know wot to do. I’d walk up the side o’ that cliff till I got to a dry bit, and then I’d stick on. But, not bein’ a fly, in coorse I can’t.”Buzzby said this in a recklessly facetious tone, and Tom Green followed it up with a remark to the effect that “he’d be blowed if he ever wos in sich a fix in his life;” intimating his belief, at the same time, that his “toes wos freezin’.”“No fear o’ that,” said the second mate, “they’ll no’ freeze as lang as they’re in the water. We’ll just have to stand here till the tide goes doon.”Saunders said this in a dogged tone, and immediately put his plan in force by crossing his arms and planting his feet firmly on the submerged ice and wide apart. Buzzby and Green, however, adopted the wiser plan of moving constantly about within a small circle, and after Saunders had argued for half an hour as to the advantages of this plan, he followed their example. The tide rose above their knees, but they had fortunately on boots, made by the Esquimaux, which were perfectly waterproof; their feet, therefore, although very cold, were quite dry. In an hour and three-quarters the ice-belt was again uncovered, and the half-frozen travellers resumed their march with the utmost energy.Two hours later and they came to a wide expanse of level ground at the foot of the high cliffs, where a group of Esquimaux huts, similar to those they had left, was descried.“They’re all deserted too,” remarked Buzzby.But Buzzby was wrong, for at that moment a very small and particularly fat little boy in a fox-skin dress appeared at the mouth of one of the low tunnels that formed the entrance to the nearest hut. This boy looked exactly like a lady’s muff with a hairy head above it and a pair of feet below. The instant he observed the strangers he threw up his arms, uttered a shrill cry of amazement, and disappeared in the tunnel. Next instant a legion of dogs rushed out of the huts, barking furiously, and on their heels came the entire population, creeping on their hands and knees out of the tunnel mouths like dark hairy monsters issuing from their holes. They had spears and knives of ivory with them, but a glance showed the two parties that they were friends, and in a few moments Awatok and his comrades were chattering vociferously round the sailors, and endeavouring by word and sign to make themselves understood.The Esquimaux received the three visitors and the rest of the sledge-party, who came up a few hours later, with the utmost hospitality. But we have not space to tell of how they dragged them into their smoky huts of snow, and how they offered them raw seals’ flesh to eat; and how, on the sailors expressing disgust they laughed, and added moss mixed with oil to their lamps to enable them to cook their food; and how they managed, by signs and otherwise, to understand that the strangers had come in search of food, at which they (the Esquimaux) were not surprised; and how they assured their visitors (also by means of signs) that they would go a-hunting with them on the following day, whereat they (the sailors) were delighted, and shook hands all round. Neither have we space to tell of how the visitors were obliged to conform to custom, and sleep in the same huts with men, women, children, and dogs, and how they felt thankful to be able to sleep anywhere and anyhow, without being frozen. All this, and a great deal more, we are compelled to skip over here, and leave it unwillingly, to the vivid imagination of our reader.

“Don’t know how it is, an’ I can’t tell wot it is, but so it is,” remarked Buzzby to Grim, a week after the first night of the theatricals, “that that ’ere actin’ has done us all a sight o’ good. Here we are as merry as crickets every one, although we’re short of fresh meat, and symptoms o’ scurvy are beginnin’ to show on some of us.”

“It’s the mind havin’ occupation, an’ bein’ prewented from broodin’ over its misfortins,” replied Grim with the air of a philosopher.

Grim did not put this remark in turned commas, although he ought to have done so, seeing that it was quoted from a speech made by the captain to Singleton the day before.

“You see,” continued Grim, “we’ve been actin’ every night for a week past; well, if we hadn’t been actin’, we should ha’ been thinkin’ an’ sleepin’—too much of which, you see, ain’t good for us, Buzzby, and would never pay.”

Buzzby was not quite sure of this, but contented himself by saying: “Well, mayhap ye’re right. I’m sorry it’s to come to an end so soon, but there is no doubt that fresh meat is ondispensable—an’ that reminds me, messmate, that I’ve not cleaned my musket for two days, an’ it wouldn’t do to go on a hunt with a foul piece, nohow. We start at 10 o’clock a.m., don’t we?”

Grim admitted that they did—remarking that it might just as well be 10 p.m., for all the difference thesunwould make in it—and went below with Buzzby.

In the cabin active preparations were making for an extended hunting expedition, which the empty state of the larder rendered absolutely necessary. For a week past the only fresh provisions they had procured were a white fox and a rabbit, notwithstanding the exertions of Meetuck, Fred, and the doctor, who with three separate parties had scoured the country for miles round the ship. Scurvy was now beginning to appear among them, and Captain Guy felt that although they had enough of salt provisions to last them the greater part of the winter, if used with economy, they could not possibly subsist on these alone. An extended expedition in search of seals and walrus was therefore projected.

It was determined that this should consist of two parties, the one to proceed north, the other to travel south in the tracks of the Esquimaux, who had left their temporary village in search of walrus—they also being reduced almost to a state of starvation.

The plan of the expedition was as follows:—

One party, consisting of ten men, under Bolton, the first mate, was to take the largest sledge, and the whole team of dogs, on which, with twelve days’ provisions and their sleeping-bags, they were to proceed northward along the coast as far as possible; and, in the event of being unsuccessful, they were to turn homeward on the eighth day, and make the best of their way back on short allowance.

The other party, consisting of fifteen men under Saunders, the second mate, was to set off to the southward on foot, dragging a smaller sledge behind them, and endeavour to find the Esquimaux, who, it was supposed, could not be far off, and would probably have fresh meat in their camp.

It was a clear, cold, and beautiful starlight day, when the two parties started simultaneously on their separate journeys. The coruscations of the aurora were more than usually vivid, and the snow gave forth that sharp, dry,crunchingsound, under the heels of the men as they moved about, that denotes intense frost.

“Mind that you hug the land, Mr Bolton,” said the captain at parting, “don’t get farther out on the floes than you can help. To meet with a gale on the ice is no joke in these latitudes.”

The first mate promised obedience, and the second mate having been also cautioned to hug the land, and not to use their small supply of spirits for any other purpose than that of lighting the lamp, except in cases of the most urgent need, they set off with three hearty cheers, which were returned by Captain Guy and those who remained with him in the ship. All the able and effective men were sent on these expeditions; those who remained behind were all more or less affected with scurvy, except the captain himself, whose energetic nature seemed invulnerable, and whose flow of spirits never failed. Indeed it is probable that to this hearty and vigorous temperament, under God, he owed his immunity from disease, for, since provisions began to fail, he, along with all his officers, had fared precisely like the men—the few delicacies they possessed having been reserved for the sick.

Unfortunately their stock of lime-juice was now getting low, and the crew had to be put on short allowance. As this acid is an excellent anti-scorbutic, or preventive of scurvy, as well as a cure, its rapid diminution was viewed with much concern by all on board. The long-continued absence of the sun, too, now began to tell more severely than ever on men and dogs. On the very day the expeditions took their departure, one of the latter, which had been left behind on account of illness, was attacked with a strange disease, of which several of the team eventually died before the winter came to an end. It was seized with spasms, and, after a few wild paroxysms, lapsed into a lethargic state. In this condition the animal functions went on apparently as well as usual, the appetite continued not only good but voracious. The disease was clearly mental. It barked furiously at nothing, and walked in straight or curved lines perseveringly; or at other times it remained for hours in moody silence, and then started off howling as if pursued. In thirty-six hours after the first attack the poor animal died, and was buried in the snow on Store Island.

This was the first death that had occurred on board, and although it was only a dog, and not one of the favourites, its loss cast a gloom over the crew for several days. It was the first blow of the fell destroyer in the midst of their little community, which could ill spare the life even of one of the lower animals, and they felt as if the point of the wedge had now been entered, and might be driven farther home ere long.

The expressive delight of the poor dogs on being admitted to the light of the cabin showed how ardently they longed for the return of the sun. It was now the beginning of December, and the darkness was complete. Not the faintest vestige of twilight appeared, even at noon. Midnight and noonday were alike. Except when the stars and aurora were bright, there was not light enough to distinguish a man’s form at ten paces distant, and a blacker mass than the surrounding darkness alone indicated where the high cliffs encompassed the Bay of Mercy. When, therefore, anyone came on deck, the first thing he felt on groping his way about was the cold noses of the dogs pushed against his hands, as they frisked and gambolled round him. They howled at the appearance of an accidental light, as if they hoped the sun, or at least the moon, were going to rise once more, and they rejoiced on being taken below, and leaped up in the men’s faces for sympathy, and whined, and all but spoke, with excess of satisfaction.

The effect of the monotony of long-continued darkness, and the absence of novelty, had much to do also with the indifferent health of many of the men. After the two expeditions were sent out, those who remained behind became much more low-spirited, and the symptoms of scurvy increased. In these circumstances Captain Guy taxed his inventive genius to the utmost to keep up their spirits and engage their minds. He assumed an air of bustling activity, and attached a degree of importance to the regular performance of the light duties of the ship that they did not in reality possess, apart from their influence as discipline. The cabin was swept and aired, the stove cleaned, the fittings dusted, the beds made, the tides, thermometers, and barometers registered; the logs posted up, clothes mended, food cooked, traps visited, etcetera, with the regularity of clockwork, and every possible plan adopted to occupy every waking hour, and to prevent the men from brooding over their position. When the labours of the day were over, plans were proposed for getting up a concert, or a new play, in order to surprise the absentees on their return. Stories were told over and over again, and enjoyed if good, or valued far beyond their worth if bad. When old stories failed, and old books were read, new stories were invented, and here the genius of some was drawn out, while the varied information of others became of great importance. Tom Singleton, in particular, entertained the men with songs and lively tunes on the flute, and told stories, as one of them remarked, “like a book”. Joseph West, too, was an invaluable comrade in this respect. He had been a studious boy at school, and a lover of books of all kinds, especially books of travel and adventure. His memory was good, and his inventive powers excellent, so that he recalled wonderful and endless anecdotes from the unfathomable stores of his memory, strung them together into a sort of story, and told them in a soft, pleasant voice that captivated the ears of his audience; but poor West was in delicate health, and could not speak so long as his messmates would have wished. The rough life they led, and the frequent exposure to intense cold, had considerably weakened a frame which had never been robust, and an occasional cough, when he told a long story, sometimes warned him to desist. Games, too, were got up. “Hide-and-seek” was revived with all the enthusiasm of boyhood, and “fox-chase” was got up with tremendous energy. In all this the captain was the most earnest and vigorous, and in doing good to others he unconsciously did the greatest possible amount of good to himself; for his forgetfulness of self, and the activity of his mind in catering for the wants and amusements of his men, had the effect of imparting a cheerfulness to his manner, and a healthy tone to his mind, that tended powerfully to sustain and invigorate his body. But despite all this, the men grew worse, and a few of them showed such alarming symptoms that the doctor began to fear there would soon be a breach in their numbers.

Meanwhile Saunders and his fifteen men trudged steadily to the southward, dragging their sledge behind them. The ice-floes, however, turned out to be very rugged and hummocky, and retarded them so much that they made but slow progress until they passed the Red Snow Valley, and doubled the point beyond it. Here they left the floes, and took to the natural highway afforded by the ice-belt, along which they sped more rapidly, and arrived at the Esquimaux village in the course of about five hours.

Here all was deserted and silent. Bits of seal and walrus, hide, and bones and tusks were scattered about in all directions, but no voices issued from the dome-shaped huts of snow.

“They’re the likest things to bee-skeps I ever saw,” remarked Saunders, as he and his party stood contemplating the little group of huts. “And they don’t seem to care much for big doors.”

Saunders referred here to the low tunnels, varying from three to twelve feet, that formed the entrance to each hut.

“Mayhap there’s some o’ them asleep inside,” suggested Tom Green, the carpenter’s mate; “suppose we go in and see?”

“I dare say ye’re no far wrong,” replied the second mate, to whom the idea seemed to be a new one. “Go in, Davie Summers, ye’re a wee chap, and can bend your back better than the most o’ us.”

Davie laughed as he went down on his hands and knees, and, creeping in at the mouth of one of the tunnels, which barely permitted him to enter in that position, disappeared.

Several of the party at the same time paid similar visits to the other huts, but they all returned with the same remark, “empty”. The interiors were begrimed with lamp-black and filth, and, from their appearance, seemed to have been deserted only a short time before.

Buzzby, who formed one of the party, rubbed his nose for some time in great perplexity, until he drew from Davie Summers the remark that his proboscis was red enough by nature and didn’t need rubbing. “It’s odd,” he remarked, “they seems to ha’ bin here for some time, and yit they’ve niver looked near the ship but once. Wot’s become on ’emIdon’t know.”

“Don’t you?” said Davie in a tone of surprise; “now thatisodd. One would have thought that a fellow who keeps his weather-eye so constantly open should know everything.”

“Don’t chaff; boy, but lend a hand to undo the sled-lashings. I see that Mr Saunders is agoin’ to anchor here for the night.”

The second mate, who had been taking a hasty glance at the various huts of the village, selected two of the largest as a lodging for his men, and, having divided them into two gangs, ordered them to turn in and sleep as hard as possible.

“’Spose we may sup first,” said Summers in a whining tone of mock humility.

“In coorse you may,” answered Tom Green, giving the lad a push that upset him in the snow.

“Come here, Buzzby, I want to speak to ’ee,” said Saunders, leading him aside. “It seems to me that the Esquimaux canna be very far off, and I observe their tracks are quite fresh in the snow leadin’ to the southward, so I mean to have a night march after them, but as the men seem pretty weel tired I’ll only take two o’ the strongest. Who d’ye think might go?”

“I’ll go myself, sir.”

“Very good, and who else, think ’ee? Amos Parr seems freshest.”

“I think Tom Green’s the man wot can do it. I seed him capsize Davie Summers jist now in the snow, an’ when a man can skylark, I always know he’s got lots o’ wind in ’im.”

“Very good. Then go, Buzzby, and order him to get ready, and look sharp about it.”

“Ay, ay, sir,” cried Buzzby, as he turned to prepare Green for the march.

In pursuance of this plan, an hour afterwards Saunders and his two followers left the camp with their sleeping-bags and a day’s provisions on their shoulders, having instructed the men to follow with the sledge at the end of five hours, which period was deemed sufficient time for rest and refreshment.

For two hours the trio plodded silently onward over the icebelt by the light of a clear, starry sky. At the end of that time clouds began to gather to the westward, rendering the way less distinct, but still leaving sufficient light to render travelling tolerably easy. Then they came to a part of the coast where the ice-belt clung close to a line of perpendicular cliffs of about three miles in extent. The ice-belt here was about twenty feet broad. On the left the cliffs referred to rose sheer up several hundred feet; on the right the ice-belt descended only about three feet to the floes. Here our three adventurous travellers were unexpectedly caught in a trap. The tide rose so high that it raised the sea ice to a level with the ice-belt and, welling up between the two, completely overflowed the latter.

The travellers pushed on as quickly as possible, for the precipices on their left forbade all hope of escape in that direction, while the gap between the ice-belt and the floes, which was filled with a gurgling mixture of ice and water, equally hemmed them in on the right. Worse than all, the tide continued to rise, and when it reached half-way to their knees, they found it dangerous to advance for fear of stepping into rents and fissures which were no longer visible.

“What’s to be done noo?” enquired Saunders, coming to a full stop, and turning to Buzzby with a look of blank despair.

“Dunno,” replied Buzzby, with an equally blank look of despair, as he stood with his legs apart and his arms hanging down by his side—the very personification of imbecility. “If I wos a fly I’d know wot to do. I’d walk up the side o’ that cliff till I got to a dry bit, and then I’d stick on. But, not bein’ a fly, in coorse I can’t.”

Buzzby said this in a recklessly facetious tone, and Tom Green followed it up with a remark to the effect that “he’d be blowed if he ever wos in sich a fix in his life;” intimating his belief, at the same time, that his “toes wos freezin’.”

“No fear o’ that,” said the second mate, “they’ll no’ freeze as lang as they’re in the water. We’ll just have to stand here till the tide goes doon.”

Saunders said this in a dogged tone, and immediately put his plan in force by crossing his arms and planting his feet firmly on the submerged ice and wide apart. Buzzby and Green, however, adopted the wiser plan of moving constantly about within a small circle, and after Saunders had argued for half an hour as to the advantages of this plan, he followed their example. The tide rose above their knees, but they had fortunately on boots, made by the Esquimaux, which were perfectly waterproof; their feet, therefore, although very cold, were quite dry. In an hour and three-quarters the ice-belt was again uncovered, and the half-frozen travellers resumed their march with the utmost energy.

Two hours later and they came to a wide expanse of level ground at the foot of the high cliffs, where a group of Esquimaux huts, similar to those they had left, was descried.

“They’re all deserted too,” remarked Buzzby.

But Buzzby was wrong, for at that moment a very small and particularly fat little boy in a fox-skin dress appeared at the mouth of one of the low tunnels that formed the entrance to the nearest hut. This boy looked exactly like a lady’s muff with a hairy head above it and a pair of feet below. The instant he observed the strangers he threw up his arms, uttered a shrill cry of amazement, and disappeared in the tunnel. Next instant a legion of dogs rushed out of the huts, barking furiously, and on their heels came the entire population, creeping on their hands and knees out of the tunnel mouths like dark hairy monsters issuing from their holes. They had spears and knives of ivory with them, but a glance showed the two parties that they were friends, and in a few moments Awatok and his comrades were chattering vociferously round the sailors, and endeavouring by word and sign to make themselves understood.

The Esquimaux received the three visitors and the rest of the sledge-party, who came up a few hours later, with the utmost hospitality. But we have not space to tell of how they dragged them into their smoky huts of snow, and how they offered them raw seals’ flesh to eat; and how, on the sailors expressing disgust they laughed, and added moss mixed with oil to their lamps to enable them to cook their food; and how they managed, by signs and otherwise, to understand that the strangers had come in search of food, at which they (the Esquimaux) were not surprised; and how they assured their visitors (also by means of signs) that they would go a-hunting with them on the following day, whereat they (the sailors) were delighted, and shook hands all round. Neither have we space to tell of how the visitors were obliged to conform to custom, and sleep in the same huts with men, women, children, and dogs, and how they felt thankful to be able to sleep anywhere and anyhow, without being frozen. All this, and a great deal more, we are compelled to skip over here, and leave it unwillingly, to the vivid imagination of our reader.

Chapter Eighteen.The Hunting Party—Reckless Driving—A Desperate Encounter with a Walrus, etcetera.Late in the day, by the bright light of the stars, the sailors and the Esquimaux left the snow-huts of the village, and, travelling out to seaward on the floes, with dogs and sledges, lances and spears, advanced to do battle with the walrus.The northern lights were more vivid than usual, making the sky quite luminous, and there was a sharp freshness in the air, which, while it induced the hunters to pull their hoods more tightly round their faces, also sent their blood careering more briskly through their veins, as they drove swiftly over the ice in the Esquimaux sledges.“Did ye ever see walrusses a’fore, Davie!” enquired Buzzby who sat beside Summers on the leading sledge.“None but what I’ve seed on this voyage.”“They’re remarkable creeturs,” rejoined Buzzby, slapping his hand on his thigh. “I’ve seed many a one in my time, an I can tell ye, lad, they’re ugly customers. They fight like good ’uns, and give the Esquimaux a deal o’ trouble to kill them—they do.”“Tell me a story about ’em, Buzzby—do, like a good chap,” said Davie Summers, burying his nose in the skirts of his hairy garment to keep it warm. “You’re a capital hand at a yarn, now, fire away.”“A story, lad; I don’t know as how I can exactly tell ye a story, but I’ll give ye wot they calls a hanecdote. It wos about five years ago, more or less, I wos out in Baffin’s Bay, becalmed off one o’ the Eskimo settlements, when we wos lookin’ over the side at the lumps of ice floatin’ past, up got a walrus not very far offshore, and out went half a dozen kayaks, as they call the Eskimo men’s boats, and they all sot on the beast at once. Well, it wos one o’ the brown walrusses, which is always the fiercest; and the moment he got the first harpoon he went slap at the man that threw it; but the fellow backed out, and then a cry was raised to let it alone, as it wos a brown walrus. One young Eskimo, howsiver, would have another slap at it and went so close that the brute charged, upset the kayak, and ripped the man up with his tusks. Seein’ this, the other Eskimos made a dash at it, and wounded it badly; but the upshot wos that the walrus put them all to flight and made off, clear away, with six harpoons fast in its hide.”“Buzzby’s tellin’ ye gammon,” roared Tom Green, who rode on the second sledge in rear of that on which Davie Summers sat. “What is’t all about?”“About gammon, of coorse,” retorted Davie. “Keep yer mouth shut for fear your teeth freeze.”“Can’t ye lead us a better road?” shouted Saunders, who rode on the third sledge; “my bones are rattlin’ about inside a’ me like a bag o’ ninepins.”“Give the dogs a cut, old fellow,” said Buzzby, with a chuckle and a motion of his arm to the Esquimaux who drove his sledge.The Esquimaux did not understand the words, but he quite understood the sly chuckle and the motion of the arm, so he sent the lash of the heavy whip with a loud crack over the backs of the team.“Hold on for life!” cried Davie, as the dogs sprang forward with a bound.The part they were about to pass over was exceedingly rough and broken, and Buzzby resolved to give his shipmates a shake. The pace was tremendous. The powerful dogs drew their loads after them with successive bounds, which caused a succession of crashes as the sledges sprang from lump to lump of ice, and the men’s teeth snapped in a truly savage manner.“Ba–a–ck ye–e–r to–o–psails, will ye?” shouted Amos Parr.But the delighted Esquimaux leader, who entered quite into the joke, had no intention whatever of backing his top-sails; he administered another crack to the team, which yelled madly, and, bounding over a wide chasm in the ice, came down with a crash which snapped the line of the leading dog and set it free. Here Buzzby caused the driver to pull up.“Stop, ye varmint! Come to an anchor!” said he. “Is that a way to drive the poor dogs!”“Ye might have stopped him sooner, I think,” cried the second mate in wrath.“Hai!” shouted the band of Esquimaux, pointing to a hummock of ice a few hundred yards in advance of the spot on which they stood.Instantly all were silent, and gazing intently ahead at a dark object that burst upwards through the ice.“A walrus!” whispered Buzzby.“So it is,” answered Amos Parr.“I’ve my doobts on that point,” remarked Saunders.Before the doubts of the second mate could be resolved, the Esquimaux uttered another exclamation and pointed to another dark object a quarter of a mile to the right. It was soon found that there were several of these ocean elephants sporting about in the neighbourhood, and bursting up the young ice that had formed on several holes, by using their huge heads as battering-rams. It was quickly arranged that the party should divide into three, and while a few remained behind to watch and restrain the dogs the remainder were to advance on foot to the attack.Saunders, Buzzby, Amos Parr, Davie Summers, and Awatok formed one party, and advanced with two muskets and several spears towards the walrus that had been first seen, the sailors taking care to keep in rear of Awatok in order to follow his lead, for they were as yet ignorant of the proper mode of attack.Awatok led the party stealthily towards a hummock, behind which he caused them to crouch until the walrus should dive. This it did in a few minutes, and then they all rushed from their place of concealment towards another hummock that lay about fifty yards from the hole. Just as they reached it, and crouched, the walrus rose, snorting the brine from its shaggy muzzle, and lashing the water into foam with its flippers.“Losh, what a big ’un!” exclaimed Saunders in amazement; and well he might, for this was an unusually large animal, more like an elephant in size than anything else.It had two enormous ivory tusks, with which it tore and pounded large fragments from the ice-tables, while it barked like a gigantic dog, and rolled its heavy form about in sport.Awatok now whispered to his comrades, and attempted to get them to understand that they must follow him as fast as possible at the next run. Suddenly the walrus dived. Awatok rushed forward, and in another instant stood at the edge of the hole with his spear in readiness in his right hand, and the coil of line in his left. The others joined him instantly, and they had scarcely come up when the huge monster again rose to the surface.Saunders and Buzzby fired at his head the moment it appeared above water, and Awatok at the same time planted a spear in his breast, and ran back with the coil. The others danced about in an excited state, throwing their spears and missing their mark, although it was a big one, frequently.“Give him a lance-thrust, Amos,” cried Saunders, reloading his piece.But Amos could not manage it, for the creature lashed about so furiously that, although he made repeated attempts, he failed to do more than prick its tough sides, and render it still more savage. Buzzby, too, made several daring efforts to lance it, but failed, and nearly slipped into the hole in his recklessness. It was a wild scene of confusion—the spray was dashed over the ice round the hole, and the men, as they ran about in extreme excitement, slipped and occasionally tumbled in their haste, while the maddened brute glared at them like a fiend, and bellowed in its anger and pain.Suddenly it dived, leaving the men staring at each other. The sudden cessation of noise and turmoil had a very strange effect.“Is’t away?” enquired Saunders with a look of chagrin.He was answered almost instantly by the walrus reappearing, and making furious efforts by means of its flippers and tusks to draw itself out upon the ice, while it roared with redoubled energy. The shot that was instantly fired seemed to have no effect, and the well-directed harpoon of Awatok was utterly disregarded by it. Amos Parr, however, gave it a lance-thrust that caused it to howl vehemently, and dyed the foam with its blood.“Hand me a spear, Buzzby,” cried Saunders, “the musket-balls seem to hurt him as little as peas. Oot o’ my gait.”The second mate made a rush so tremendous that something awful would infallibly have resulted had he not struck his foot against a bit of ice and fallen violently on his breast. The impetus with which he had started shot him forward till his head was within a foot of the walrus’s grim muzzle. For one moment the animal looked at the man as if it were surprised at his audacity, and then it recommenced its frantic struggles, snorting blood, and foam, and water into Saunders’s face as he scrambled out of its way. Immediately after, Awatok fixed another harpoon in its side, and it dived again.The struggle that ensued was tremendous, and the result seemed for a long time to be doubtful. Again and again shots were fired and spear-thrusts made with effect, but the huge creature seemed invulnerable. Its ferocity and strength remained unabated, while the men—sailors and Esquimaux alike—were nearly exhausted. The battle had now lasted three hours; the men were panting from exertion; the walrus, still bellowing, was clinging to the edge of the ice, which for several yards round the hole was covered with blood and foam.“Wot a brute it is!” said Buzzby, sitting down on a lump of ice and looking at it in despair.“We might have killed it lang ago had I not wet my gun,” growled Saunders, regarding his weapon, which was completely drenched, with a look of contempt.“Give it another poke, Awatok,” cried Amos Parr; “you’ll know best whereabouts its life lies; I can make nothin’ o’t.”Awatok obeyed, and gave it a thrust under the left flipper that seemed to reach its heart, for it fell back into the water and struggled violently. At the same moment Davie Summers mounted to the top of a hummock, part of which overhung the pool, and launched a harpoon down upon its back. This latter blow seemed to revive its ferocity, for it again essayed to clamber out on the ice, and looked up at Davie with a glance of seeming indignation, while Buzzby, who had approached, fell backward as he retreated from before it. At the same time Saunders succeeded in getting his musket to go off. The ball struck it in the eye, and, entering the brain, caused instant death, a result which was greeted with three enthusiastic cheers.The getting of this enormous creature out of the water would have been a matter of no small difficulty had there not been such a large party present. Even as it was, it took them a considerable time to accomplish this feat, and to cut it up and pack it on the sledges.While the battle above described was going on, two smaller walrus had been killed and secured, and the Esquimaux were in a state of great glee, for previous to the arrival of the sailors they had been unsuccessful in their hunts, and had been living on short allowance. On returning home there was a general feasting and merry-making, and Saunders felt that if he remained there long they would not only eat up their own meat, but his also. He therefore resolved to return immediately to the ship with his prize, and leave part of his men behind to continue the hunt until he should return with the sledge.But he was prevented from putting this intention into practice by a hurricane which burst over the Arctic regions with inconceivable bitterness, and for two days kept all the inhabitants of the snow-village confined to their huts. This hurricane was the fiercest that had swept over these bleak regions of ice since the arrival of theDolphin. The wind shrieked, as it swept round the cliffs, and down the ravines, and out upon the frozen sea, as if a legion of evil spirits were embodied and concentrated in each succeeding blast. The snow-drift rose in solid masses, whirled madly round for a few seconds, and then was caught by the blast, and swept away like sheets of white flame. The thermometer stood at 23 degrees below zero, a temperature that was mild compared with what it usually had been of late, but the fierce wind abstracted heat from everything exposed to it so rapidly that neither man nor beast could face it for a moment.Buzzby got a little bit of his chin frozen while he merely put his head out at the door of the hut to see how the weather looked, and Davie Summers had one of his fingers slightly frozen while in the act of carrying in one of the muskets that had been left outside by mistake.As for the Esquimaux, they recked not of the weather. Their snow-huts were warm, and their mouths were full, so like wise men and women they waited patiently within-doors till the storm should blow itself out. The doings of these poor people were very curious. They ate voraciously, and evidently preferred their meat raw. But when the sailors showed disgust at this, they at once made a small fire of moss, mingled with blubber, over which they half-cooked their food.Their mode of procuring fire was curious. Two small stones were taken, one a piece of white quartz, the other a piece of iron-stone, and struck together smartly; the few sparks that flew out were thrown upon a kind of white down, found on the willows, under which was placed a lump of dried moss. It was usually a considerable time before they succeeded in catching a spark, but once caught they had no difficulty in blowing it into a flame.They had also an ingenious contrivance for melting snow. This was a flat stone, supported by two other stones, and inclined slightly at one end; upon this flat stone a lump of snow was placed, and below it was kindled a small fire of moss and blubber. When the stone became heated, the snow melted and flowed down the incline into a small seal-skin cup placed there to catch it.During the continuance of the storm the sailors shared the food and lodging of these Esquimaux. They were a fat, oily, hospitable, dirty race, and vied with each other in showing kindness to those who had been thus thrown into their society. As Davie Summers expressed it, “they were regular trumps”; and, according to Buzzby’s opinion, “they wos the jolliest set o’ human walrusses wot he had ever comed across in all his travels, and he ought to know, for he had always kep’ his weather-eye open, he had, and wouldn’t give in on that p’int, he wouldn’t, to no man livin’.”

Late in the day, by the bright light of the stars, the sailors and the Esquimaux left the snow-huts of the village, and, travelling out to seaward on the floes, with dogs and sledges, lances and spears, advanced to do battle with the walrus.

The northern lights were more vivid than usual, making the sky quite luminous, and there was a sharp freshness in the air, which, while it induced the hunters to pull their hoods more tightly round their faces, also sent their blood careering more briskly through their veins, as they drove swiftly over the ice in the Esquimaux sledges.

“Did ye ever see walrusses a’fore, Davie!” enquired Buzzby who sat beside Summers on the leading sledge.

“None but what I’ve seed on this voyage.”

“They’re remarkable creeturs,” rejoined Buzzby, slapping his hand on his thigh. “I’ve seed many a one in my time, an I can tell ye, lad, they’re ugly customers. They fight like good ’uns, and give the Esquimaux a deal o’ trouble to kill them—they do.”

“Tell me a story about ’em, Buzzby—do, like a good chap,” said Davie Summers, burying his nose in the skirts of his hairy garment to keep it warm. “You’re a capital hand at a yarn, now, fire away.”

“A story, lad; I don’t know as how I can exactly tell ye a story, but I’ll give ye wot they calls a hanecdote. It wos about five years ago, more or less, I wos out in Baffin’s Bay, becalmed off one o’ the Eskimo settlements, when we wos lookin’ over the side at the lumps of ice floatin’ past, up got a walrus not very far offshore, and out went half a dozen kayaks, as they call the Eskimo men’s boats, and they all sot on the beast at once. Well, it wos one o’ the brown walrusses, which is always the fiercest; and the moment he got the first harpoon he went slap at the man that threw it; but the fellow backed out, and then a cry was raised to let it alone, as it wos a brown walrus. One young Eskimo, howsiver, would have another slap at it and went so close that the brute charged, upset the kayak, and ripped the man up with his tusks. Seein’ this, the other Eskimos made a dash at it, and wounded it badly; but the upshot wos that the walrus put them all to flight and made off, clear away, with six harpoons fast in its hide.”

“Buzzby’s tellin’ ye gammon,” roared Tom Green, who rode on the second sledge in rear of that on which Davie Summers sat. “What is’t all about?”

“About gammon, of coorse,” retorted Davie. “Keep yer mouth shut for fear your teeth freeze.”

“Can’t ye lead us a better road?” shouted Saunders, who rode on the third sledge; “my bones are rattlin’ about inside a’ me like a bag o’ ninepins.”

“Give the dogs a cut, old fellow,” said Buzzby, with a chuckle and a motion of his arm to the Esquimaux who drove his sledge.

The Esquimaux did not understand the words, but he quite understood the sly chuckle and the motion of the arm, so he sent the lash of the heavy whip with a loud crack over the backs of the team.

“Hold on for life!” cried Davie, as the dogs sprang forward with a bound.

The part they were about to pass over was exceedingly rough and broken, and Buzzby resolved to give his shipmates a shake. The pace was tremendous. The powerful dogs drew their loads after them with successive bounds, which caused a succession of crashes as the sledges sprang from lump to lump of ice, and the men’s teeth snapped in a truly savage manner.

“Ba–a–ck ye–e–r to–o–psails, will ye?” shouted Amos Parr.

But the delighted Esquimaux leader, who entered quite into the joke, had no intention whatever of backing his top-sails; he administered another crack to the team, which yelled madly, and, bounding over a wide chasm in the ice, came down with a crash which snapped the line of the leading dog and set it free. Here Buzzby caused the driver to pull up.

“Stop, ye varmint! Come to an anchor!” said he. “Is that a way to drive the poor dogs!”

“Ye might have stopped him sooner, I think,” cried the second mate in wrath.

“Hai!” shouted the band of Esquimaux, pointing to a hummock of ice a few hundred yards in advance of the spot on which they stood.

Instantly all were silent, and gazing intently ahead at a dark object that burst upwards through the ice.

“A walrus!” whispered Buzzby.

“So it is,” answered Amos Parr.

“I’ve my doobts on that point,” remarked Saunders.

Before the doubts of the second mate could be resolved, the Esquimaux uttered another exclamation and pointed to another dark object a quarter of a mile to the right. It was soon found that there were several of these ocean elephants sporting about in the neighbourhood, and bursting up the young ice that had formed on several holes, by using their huge heads as battering-rams. It was quickly arranged that the party should divide into three, and while a few remained behind to watch and restrain the dogs the remainder were to advance on foot to the attack.

Saunders, Buzzby, Amos Parr, Davie Summers, and Awatok formed one party, and advanced with two muskets and several spears towards the walrus that had been first seen, the sailors taking care to keep in rear of Awatok in order to follow his lead, for they were as yet ignorant of the proper mode of attack.

Awatok led the party stealthily towards a hummock, behind which he caused them to crouch until the walrus should dive. This it did in a few minutes, and then they all rushed from their place of concealment towards another hummock that lay about fifty yards from the hole. Just as they reached it, and crouched, the walrus rose, snorting the brine from its shaggy muzzle, and lashing the water into foam with its flippers.

“Losh, what a big ’un!” exclaimed Saunders in amazement; and well he might, for this was an unusually large animal, more like an elephant in size than anything else.

It had two enormous ivory tusks, with which it tore and pounded large fragments from the ice-tables, while it barked like a gigantic dog, and rolled its heavy form about in sport.

Awatok now whispered to his comrades, and attempted to get them to understand that they must follow him as fast as possible at the next run. Suddenly the walrus dived. Awatok rushed forward, and in another instant stood at the edge of the hole with his spear in readiness in his right hand, and the coil of line in his left. The others joined him instantly, and they had scarcely come up when the huge monster again rose to the surface.

Saunders and Buzzby fired at his head the moment it appeared above water, and Awatok at the same time planted a spear in his breast, and ran back with the coil. The others danced about in an excited state, throwing their spears and missing their mark, although it was a big one, frequently.

“Give him a lance-thrust, Amos,” cried Saunders, reloading his piece.

But Amos could not manage it, for the creature lashed about so furiously that, although he made repeated attempts, he failed to do more than prick its tough sides, and render it still more savage. Buzzby, too, made several daring efforts to lance it, but failed, and nearly slipped into the hole in his recklessness. It was a wild scene of confusion—the spray was dashed over the ice round the hole, and the men, as they ran about in extreme excitement, slipped and occasionally tumbled in their haste, while the maddened brute glared at them like a fiend, and bellowed in its anger and pain.

Suddenly it dived, leaving the men staring at each other. The sudden cessation of noise and turmoil had a very strange effect.

“Is’t away?” enquired Saunders with a look of chagrin.

He was answered almost instantly by the walrus reappearing, and making furious efforts by means of its flippers and tusks to draw itself out upon the ice, while it roared with redoubled energy. The shot that was instantly fired seemed to have no effect, and the well-directed harpoon of Awatok was utterly disregarded by it. Amos Parr, however, gave it a lance-thrust that caused it to howl vehemently, and dyed the foam with its blood.

“Hand me a spear, Buzzby,” cried Saunders, “the musket-balls seem to hurt him as little as peas. Oot o’ my gait.”

The second mate made a rush so tremendous that something awful would infallibly have resulted had he not struck his foot against a bit of ice and fallen violently on his breast. The impetus with which he had started shot him forward till his head was within a foot of the walrus’s grim muzzle. For one moment the animal looked at the man as if it were surprised at his audacity, and then it recommenced its frantic struggles, snorting blood, and foam, and water into Saunders’s face as he scrambled out of its way. Immediately after, Awatok fixed another harpoon in its side, and it dived again.

The struggle that ensued was tremendous, and the result seemed for a long time to be doubtful. Again and again shots were fired and spear-thrusts made with effect, but the huge creature seemed invulnerable. Its ferocity and strength remained unabated, while the men—sailors and Esquimaux alike—were nearly exhausted. The battle had now lasted three hours; the men were panting from exertion; the walrus, still bellowing, was clinging to the edge of the ice, which for several yards round the hole was covered with blood and foam.

“Wot a brute it is!” said Buzzby, sitting down on a lump of ice and looking at it in despair.

“We might have killed it lang ago had I not wet my gun,” growled Saunders, regarding his weapon, which was completely drenched, with a look of contempt.

“Give it another poke, Awatok,” cried Amos Parr; “you’ll know best whereabouts its life lies; I can make nothin’ o’t.”

Awatok obeyed, and gave it a thrust under the left flipper that seemed to reach its heart, for it fell back into the water and struggled violently. At the same moment Davie Summers mounted to the top of a hummock, part of which overhung the pool, and launched a harpoon down upon its back. This latter blow seemed to revive its ferocity, for it again essayed to clamber out on the ice, and looked up at Davie with a glance of seeming indignation, while Buzzby, who had approached, fell backward as he retreated from before it. At the same time Saunders succeeded in getting his musket to go off. The ball struck it in the eye, and, entering the brain, caused instant death, a result which was greeted with three enthusiastic cheers.

The getting of this enormous creature out of the water would have been a matter of no small difficulty had there not been such a large party present. Even as it was, it took them a considerable time to accomplish this feat, and to cut it up and pack it on the sledges.

While the battle above described was going on, two smaller walrus had been killed and secured, and the Esquimaux were in a state of great glee, for previous to the arrival of the sailors they had been unsuccessful in their hunts, and had been living on short allowance. On returning home there was a general feasting and merry-making, and Saunders felt that if he remained there long they would not only eat up their own meat, but his also. He therefore resolved to return immediately to the ship with his prize, and leave part of his men behind to continue the hunt until he should return with the sledge.

But he was prevented from putting this intention into practice by a hurricane which burst over the Arctic regions with inconceivable bitterness, and for two days kept all the inhabitants of the snow-village confined to their huts. This hurricane was the fiercest that had swept over these bleak regions of ice since the arrival of theDolphin. The wind shrieked, as it swept round the cliffs, and down the ravines, and out upon the frozen sea, as if a legion of evil spirits were embodied and concentrated in each succeeding blast. The snow-drift rose in solid masses, whirled madly round for a few seconds, and then was caught by the blast, and swept away like sheets of white flame. The thermometer stood at 23 degrees below zero, a temperature that was mild compared with what it usually had been of late, but the fierce wind abstracted heat from everything exposed to it so rapidly that neither man nor beast could face it for a moment.

Buzzby got a little bit of his chin frozen while he merely put his head out at the door of the hut to see how the weather looked, and Davie Summers had one of his fingers slightly frozen while in the act of carrying in one of the muskets that had been left outside by mistake.

As for the Esquimaux, they recked not of the weather. Their snow-huts were warm, and their mouths were full, so like wise men and women they waited patiently within-doors till the storm should blow itself out. The doings of these poor people were very curious. They ate voraciously, and evidently preferred their meat raw. But when the sailors showed disgust at this, they at once made a small fire of moss, mingled with blubber, over which they half-cooked their food.

Their mode of procuring fire was curious. Two small stones were taken, one a piece of white quartz, the other a piece of iron-stone, and struck together smartly; the few sparks that flew out were thrown upon a kind of white down, found on the willows, under which was placed a lump of dried moss. It was usually a considerable time before they succeeded in catching a spark, but once caught they had no difficulty in blowing it into a flame.

They had also an ingenious contrivance for melting snow. This was a flat stone, supported by two other stones, and inclined slightly at one end; upon this flat stone a lump of snow was placed, and below it was kindled a small fire of moss and blubber. When the stone became heated, the snow melted and flowed down the incline into a small seal-skin cup placed there to catch it.

During the continuance of the storm the sailors shared the food and lodging of these Esquimaux. They were a fat, oily, hospitable, dirty race, and vied with each other in showing kindness to those who had been thus thrown into their society. As Davie Summers expressed it, “they were regular trumps”; and, according to Buzzby’s opinion, “they wos the jolliest set o’ human walrusses wot he had ever comed across in all his travels, and he ought to know, for he had always kep’ his weather-eye open, he had, and wouldn’t give in on that p’int, he wouldn’t, to no man livin’.”

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