Chapter Ten.Beginning of winter—Meetuck effects a remarkable change in the men’s appearance—Mossing, and working, and plans for a winter campaign.In August the first frost came and formed “young ice” on the sea, but this lasted only for a brief hour or two, and was broken up by the tide and melted. By the 10th of September the young ice cemented the floes of last year’s ice together, and soon rendered the ice round the ship immovable. Hummocks clustered round several rocky islets in the neighbourhood, and the rising and falling of the tide covered the sides of the rocks with bright crystals. All the feathered tribes took their departure for less rigorous climes, with the exception of a small white bird about the size of a sparrow, called the snow-bird, which is the last to leave the icy north. Then a tremendous storm arose, and the sea became choked up with icebergs and floes which the frost soon locked together into a solid mass. Towards the close of the storm snow fell in great abundance, and when the mariners ventured again to put their heads up the opened hatchways, the decks were knee-deep, the drift to windward was almost level with the bulwarks, every yard was edged with white, every rope and cord had a light side and a dark, every point and truck had a white button on it, and every hole, corner, crack, and crevice was choked up.The land and the sea were also clothed with this spotless garment, which is indeed a strikingly appropriate emblem of purity, and the only dark objects visible in the landscape were those precipices which were too steep for the snow to lie on, the towering form of the giant flag-staff, and the leaden clouds that rolled angrily across the sky. But these leaden clouds soon rolled off, leaving a blue wintry sky and a bright sun behind.The storm blew itself out early in the morning, and at breakfast-time on that day, when the sun was just struggling with the last of the clouds, Captain Guy remarked to his friends, who were seated round the cabin table: “Well, gentlemen, we must begin hard work to-day.”“Hard work, Captain!” exclaimed Fred Ellice, pausing for a second or two in the hard work of chewing a piece of hard salt junk; “why, what do you call the work we’ve been engaged in for the last few weeks?”“Play, my lad; that was only play—just to bring our hands in, before setting to work in earnest! What do you think of the health of the men, Doctor?”“Never was better, but I fear the hospital will soon fill if you carry out your threat in regard to work.”“No fear,” remarked the second mate; “the more work the better health is my experience. Busy men have no time to git seek.”“No doubt of it sir,” said the first mate, bolting a large mouthful of pork. “Nothing so good for ’em as work.”“There are two against you, Doctor,” said the captain.“Then it’s two to two,” cried Fred, as he finished breakfast, “for I quite agree with Tom, and with that excellent proverb which says: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’”The captain shook his head as he said: “Of all the nuisances I ever met with in a ship a semi-passenger is the worst. I think, Fred, I must get you bound apprentice, and give you regular work to do, you good-for-nothing.”We need scarcely say that the captain jested, for Fred was possessed of a spirit that cannot rest, so to speak, unless at work. He was able to do almost anythingafter a fashion, and was never idle for a moment. Even when his hands chanced to be unemployed his brows were knitted, busily planning what to do next.“Well now, gentlemen,” resumed the captain, “let us consider the order of business. The first thing that must be done now is to unstow the hold, and deposit its contents on the small island astern of us, which we shall call Store Island, for brevity’s sake. Get a tent pitched there, Mr Bolton, and bank it up with snow. You can leave Grim to superintend the unloading. Then, Mr Saunders, do you go and set a gang of men to cut a canal through the young ice from the ship to the island. Fortunately the floes there are wide enough apart to let our quarter-boats float between them. The unshipping won’t take long. Tell Buzzby to take a dozen men with him and collect moss; we’ll need a large quantity for fuel, and if another storm like this comes, it’ll be hard work to get down to it. Send Meetuck to me when you go on deck; I shall talk to him as to our prospects of finding deer hereabouts, and arrange a hunt. Doctor, you may either join the hunting party or post up the observations, etcetera, which have accumulated of late.”“Thank you, Captain,” said Singleton, “I’ll accept the latter duty, the more willingly that I wish to have a careful examination of my botanical specimens.”“And what am I to do, Captain?” enquired Fred.“What you please, lad.”“Then I’ll go and take care of Meetuck; he’s apt to get into mischief when left—”At this moment a tremendous shout of laughter, long-continued, came from the deck, and a sound as of numbers of men dancing overhead was heard.The party in the cabin seized their caps and sprang up the companion, where they beheld a scene that accounted for the laughter, and induced them to join in it. At first sight it seemed as if thirty polar bears had boarded the vessel, and were executing a dance of triumph before proceeding to make a meal of the crew; but on closer inspection it became apparent that the men had undergone a strange transformation, and were capering with delight at the ridiculous appearance they presented. They were clad from head to foot in Esquimaux costume, and now bore as strong a resemblance to polar bears as man could attain to.Meetuck was the pattern and the chief instrument in effecting this change. At Uppernavik Captain Guy had been induced to purchase a large number of fox-skins, deer-skins, seal-skins, and other furs as a speculation, and had them tightly packed and stowed away in the hold, little imagining the purpose they were ultimately destined to serve. Meetuck had come on board in a mongrel sort of worn-out seal-skin dress, but the instant the cold weather set in he drew from a bundle, which he had brought with him, a dress made of the furs of the Arctic fox, some of the skins being white and the others blue. It consisted of a loose coat somewhat in the form of a shirt, with a large hood to it, and a short elongation behind like the commencement of a tail. The boots were made of white bear-skin which, at the end of the foot, were made to terminate with the claws of the animal, and they were so long that they came up the thigh under the coat, or “jumper” as the men called it, and thus served instead of trousers. He also wore fur mittens, with a bag for the fingers, and a separate little bag for the thumb. The hair on these garments was long and soft, and worn outside, so that when a man enveloped himself in them, and put up the hood, which well-nigh concealed the face, he became very much like a bear, or some such creature, standing on its hind-legs.Meetuck was a short, fat, burly little fellow by nature, but when he put on his winter dress he became such a round, soft, squat, hairy, and comical-looking creature that no one could look at him without laughing; and the shout with which he was received on deck the first time he made his appearance in his new costume was loud and prolonged. But Meetuck was as good-humoured an Esquimaux as ever speared a walrus or lanced a polar bear. He joined in the laugh, and cut a caper or two to show that he entered into the spirit of the joke.When the ship was set fast, and the thermometer fell pretty low, the men found that their ordinary dreadnoughts and pea-jackets, etcetera, were not a sufficient protection against the cold, and it occurred to the captain that his furs might now be turned to good account. Sailors are proverbially good needle-men of a rough kind. Meetuck showed them how to set about their work; each man made his own garments, and in less than a week they were completed. It is true the boots perplexed them a little, and the less ingenious among the men made very rare and curious-looking foot-gear for themselves, but they succeeded after a fashion, and at last the whole crew appeared on deck in their new habiliments, as we have already mentioned, capering among the snow like bears, to their own entire satisfaction and to the intense delight of Meetuck, who now came to regard the white men as brothers—so true is it that “the tailor makes the man!”“’Ow ’orribly ’eavy it is, hain’t it?” gasped Mivins, after dancing round the main-hatch till he was nearly exhausted.“Heavy?” cried Buzzby, whose appearance was such that you would have hesitated to say whether his breadth or length was greater,—“heavy, d’ye say? It must be your sperrits wot’s heavy, then, for I feel as light as a feather myself.”“O morther! then may I niver sleep on a bed made o’ sich feathers!” cried O’Riley, capering up to Green, the carpenter’s mate, and throwing a mass of snow in his face. The frost rendered it impossible to form the snow into balls, but the men made up for this by throwing it about each other’s eyes and ears in handfuls.“What d’ye mean by insultin’ my mate?—take that!” said Peter Grim, giving the Irishman a twirl that tumbled him on the deck.“Oh, bad manners to ye,” spluttered O’Riley, as he rose and ran away, “why don’t ye hit a man o’ yer own size.”“’Deed, then, it must be because there’s not one o’ my own size to hit,” remarked the carpenter with a broad grin.This was true. Grim’s colossal proportions were increased so much by his hairy dress that he seemed to spread out into the dimensions of two large men rolled into one. But O’Riley was not to be overturned with impunity. Skulking round behind the crew, who were laughing at Grim’s joke, he came upon the giant in the rear, and seizing the short tail of his jumper, pulled him violently down on the deck.“Ah! then give it him, boys,” cried O’Riley, pushing the carpenter flat down, and obliterating his black beard and his whole visage in a mass of snow. Several of the wilder spirits among the men leaped on the prostrate Grim, and nearly smothered him before he could gather himself up for a struggle; then they fled in all directions, while their victim regained his feet and rushed wildly after them. At last he caught O’Riley, and grasping him by the two shoulders gave him a heave that was intended and “calc’lated,” as Amos Parr afterwards remarked, “to pitch him over the foretop-sail-yard!” But an Irishman is not easily overcome. O’Riley suddenly straightened himself and held his arms up over his head, and the violent heave, which, according to Parr, was to have sent him to such an uncomfortable elevation, only pulled the jumper completely off his body, and left him free to laugh in the face of his big friend, and run away.At this point the captain deemed it prudent to interfere.“Come, come, my lads,” he cried, “enough o’ this! That’s not the morning work, is it? I’m glad to find that your new dresses,” he added with a significant smile, “make you fond of rough work in the snow; there’s plenty of it before us. Come down below with me, Meetuck; I wish to talk with you.”As the captain descended to the cabin the men gave a final cheer, and in ten minutes they were working laboriously at their various duties.Buzzby and his party were the first ready and off to cut moss. They drew a sledge after them towards the Red-snow Valley, which was not more than two miles distant from the ship. This “mossing”, as it was termed, was by no means a pleasant duty. Before the winter became severe the moss could be cut out from the beds of the snow streams with comparative ease, but now the mixed turf of willows, heaths, grasses, and moss was frozen solid, and had to be quarried with crowbars and carried to the ship like so much stone. However, it was prosecuted vigorously, and a sufficient quantity was soon procured to pack on the decks of the ship, and around its sides, so as to keep out the cold. At the same time the operation of discharging the stores was carried on briskly, and Fred, in company with Meetuck, O’Riley, and Joseph West, started with the dog-sledge on a hunting expedition.In order to enable the reader better to understand the condition of theDolphinand her crew, we will detail the several arrangements that were made at this time and during the succeeding fortnight. As a measure of precaution, the ship, by means of blasting, sawing, and warping, was with great labour got into deeper water, where one night’s frost set her fast with a sheet of ice three inches thick round her; in a few weeks this ice became several feet thick, and the snow drifted up her hull so much that it seemed as if she were resting on the land, and had taken final leave of her native element. Strong hawsers were then secured to Store Island in order to guard against the possibility of her being carried away by any sudden disruption of the ice. The disposition of the masts, yards, and sails were next determined on; the top-gallant masts were struck, the lower yards got down to the housings. The top-sail yards, gaff, and jib-boom, however, were left in their places. The top-sails and courses were kept bent to the yards, the sheets being unrove, and the clews tucked in. The rest of the binding sails were stowed on deck to prevent their thawing during winter; and the spare spars were lashed over the ship’s sides, to leave a clear space for taking exercise in bad weather.The stores, in order to relieve the strain on the ship, were removed to Store Island, and snugly housed under the tent erected there, and then a thick bank of snow was heaped up round it. After this was accomplished, all the boats were hauled up beside the tent and covered with snow, except the two quarter boats, which were left hanging at the davits all winter. When the thermometer fell below zero it was found that the vapours below, and the breath of the men, condensed on the beams of the lower deck and in the cabin near the hatchway. It was therefore resolved to convert some sheet-iron, which they fortunately possessed, into pipes, which, being conducted from the cooking-stove through the length of the ship, served in some degree to raise the temperature and ventilate the cabins. A regular daily allowance of coal was served out, and four steady men appointed to attend to the fire in regular watches, for the double purpose of seeing that none of the fuel should be wasted, and of guarding against fire. They had likewise charge of the fire-pumps and buckets, and two tanks of water, all of which were kept in the hatchway in constant readiness in case of accidents. In addition to this, a fire-brigade was formed, with Joseph West, a steady, quiet, active young seaman, as its captain, and their stations in the event of fire were fixed beforehand; also a hole was kept constantly open in the ice alongside to ensure at all times a sufficient supply of water.Strict regulations as to cleanliness, and the daily airing of the hammocks, were laid down, and adhered to throughout the winter. A regular allowance of provisions was appointed to each man, so that they should not run the risk of starving before the return of the wild fowl in spring. But those provisions were all salt, and the captain trusted much to their hunting expeditions for a supply of fresh food, without which there would be little hope of their continuing in a condition of good health. Coffee was served out at breakfast, and cocoa at supper, besides being occasionally supplied at other times to men who had been engaged in exhausting work in extremely cold weather. Afterwards, when the dark season set in, and the crew were confined by the intense cold more than formerly within the ship, various schemes were set afoot for passing the time profitably and agreeably. Among others a school was started by the captain for instructing such of the crew as chose to attend in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and in this hyperborean academy Fred Ellice acted as the writing-master, and Tom Singleton as the accountant. The men were much amused at first at the idea of “goin’ to school”, and some of them looked rather shy at it, but O’Riley, after some consideration, came boldly forward and said: “Well, boys, bad luck to me if I don’t think I’ll be a scholard afther all. My old gran’mother used to tell me, whin I refused to go to the school that was kip be an owld man as tuck his fees out in murphies and photteen,—says she: ‘Ah ye spalpeen, ye’ll niver be cliverer nor the pig, ye wont.’ ‘Ah, then, I hope not,’ says I, ‘for sure she’s far the cliverest in the house, an’ ye wouldn’t have me to be cliverer than me own gran’mother, would ye?’ says I. So I niver wint to school, and more be token, I can’t sign me name, and if it was only to learn how to do that, I’ll go and jine; indeed I will.” So O’Riley joined, and before long every man in the ship was glad to join, in order to have something to do.The doctor also, twice a week, gave readings from Shakespeare, a copy of which he had fortunately brought with him. He also read extracts from the few other books they happened to have on board, and after a time, finding unexpectedly that he had a talent that way, he began to draw upon his memory and his imagination, and told long stories (which were facetiously calledlectures) to the men, who listened to them with great delight. Then Fred started an illustrated newspaper once a week, which was named theArctic Sun, and which was in great favour during the whole course of its brief existence. It is true, only one copy was issued each morning of publication, because, besides supplying the greater proportion of the material himself, and executing the illustrations in a style that would have made Mr Leech of the present day envious, he had to transcribe the various contributions he received from the men and others in a neat, legible hand. But thisonecopy was perused and reperused as no single copy of any paper extant—not exceptingThe TimesorPunch—has ever yet been perused; and when it was returned to the editor to be carefully placed in the archives of theDolphin, it was emphatically the worse for wear. Besides all this, a theatre was set agoing—of which we shall have more to say hereafter.In thus minutely recounting the various expedients which these banished men fell upon to pass the long dark hours of an Arctic winter, we may, perhaps, give the reader the impression that a great deal of thought and time were bestowed uponamusement, as if that were the chief end and object of their life in those regions. But we must remind him that though many more pages might be filled in recounting all the particulars, but a small portion of their time was, after all, taken up in this way; and it would have been well for them had they been able to find more to amuse them than they did, for the depressing influence of the long-continued darkness, and the want of a sufficiency of regular employment for so many months, added to the rigorous nature of the climate in which they dwelt, well-nigh broke their spirits at last.In order to secure warmth during winter, the deck of the ship was padded with moss about a foot deep, and, down below, the walls were lined with the same material. The floors were carefully plastered with common paste, and covered with oakum a couple of inches deep, over which a carpet of canvas was spread. Every opening in the deck was fastened down and covered deeply over with moss, with the exception of one hatch, which was their only entrance, and this was kept constantly closed, except when it was desirable to ventilate. Curtains were hung up in front of it to prevent draughts. A canvas awning was also spread over the decks from stem to stern, so that it was confidently hoped theDolphinwould prove a snug tenement even in the severest cold.As has been said before, the snow-drift almost buried the hull of the ship; and, as snow is a goodnon-conductorof heat, this further helped to keep up the temperature within. A staircase of snow was built up to the bulwarks on the larboard quarter, and on the starboard side an inclined plane of snow was sloped down to the ice to facilitate the launching of the sledges when they had to be pulled on deck.Such were the chief arrangements and preparations that were made by our adventurers for spending the winter; but although we have described them at this point in our story, many of them were not completed until a much later period.
In August the first frost came and formed “young ice” on the sea, but this lasted only for a brief hour or two, and was broken up by the tide and melted. By the 10th of September the young ice cemented the floes of last year’s ice together, and soon rendered the ice round the ship immovable. Hummocks clustered round several rocky islets in the neighbourhood, and the rising and falling of the tide covered the sides of the rocks with bright crystals. All the feathered tribes took their departure for less rigorous climes, with the exception of a small white bird about the size of a sparrow, called the snow-bird, which is the last to leave the icy north. Then a tremendous storm arose, and the sea became choked up with icebergs and floes which the frost soon locked together into a solid mass. Towards the close of the storm snow fell in great abundance, and when the mariners ventured again to put their heads up the opened hatchways, the decks were knee-deep, the drift to windward was almost level with the bulwarks, every yard was edged with white, every rope and cord had a light side and a dark, every point and truck had a white button on it, and every hole, corner, crack, and crevice was choked up.
The land and the sea were also clothed with this spotless garment, which is indeed a strikingly appropriate emblem of purity, and the only dark objects visible in the landscape were those precipices which were too steep for the snow to lie on, the towering form of the giant flag-staff, and the leaden clouds that rolled angrily across the sky. But these leaden clouds soon rolled off, leaving a blue wintry sky and a bright sun behind.
The storm blew itself out early in the morning, and at breakfast-time on that day, when the sun was just struggling with the last of the clouds, Captain Guy remarked to his friends, who were seated round the cabin table: “Well, gentlemen, we must begin hard work to-day.”
“Hard work, Captain!” exclaimed Fred Ellice, pausing for a second or two in the hard work of chewing a piece of hard salt junk; “why, what do you call the work we’ve been engaged in for the last few weeks?”
“Play, my lad; that was only play—just to bring our hands in, before setting to work in earnest! What do you think of the health of the men, Doctor?”
“Never was better, but I fear the hospital will soon fill if you carry out your threat in regard to work.”
“No fear,” remarked the second mate; “the more work the better health is my experience. Busy men have no time to git seek.”
“No doubt of it sir,” said the first mate, bolting a large mouthful of pork. “Nothing so good for ’em as work.”
“There are two against you, Doctor,” said the captain.
“Then it’s two to two,” cried Fred, as he finished breakfast, “for I quite agree with Tom, and with that excellent proverb which says: ‘All work and no play makes Jack a dull boy.’”
The captain shook his head as he said: “Of all the nuisances I ever met with in a ship a semi-passenger is the worst. I think, Fred, I must get you bound apprentice, and give you regular work to do, you good-for-nothing.”
We need scarcely say that the captain jested, for Fred was possessed of a spirit that cannot rest, so to speak, unless at work. He was able to do almost anythingafter a fashion, and was never idle for a moment. Even when his hands chanced to be unemployed his brows were knitted, busily planning what to do next.
“Well now, gentlemen,” resumed the captain, “let us consider the order of business. The first thing that must be done now is to unstow the hold, and deposit its contents on the small island astern of us, which we shall call Store Island, for brevity’s sake. Get a tent pitched there, Mr Bolton, and bank it up with snow. You can leave Grim to superintend the unloading. Then, Mr Saunders, do you go and set a gang of men to cut a canal through the young ice from the ship to the island. Fortunately the floes there are wide enough apart to let our quarter-boats float between them. The unshipping won’t take long. Tell Buzzby to take a dozen men with him and collect moss; we’ll need a large quantity for fuel, and if another storm like this comes, it’ll be hard work to get down to it. Send Meetuck to me when you go on deck; I shall talk to him as to our prospects of finding deer hereabouts, and arrange a hunt. Doctor, you may either join the hunting party or post up the observations, etcetera, which have accumulated of late.”
“Thank you, Captain,” said Singleton, “I’ll accept the latter duty, the more willingly that I wish to have a careful examination of my botanical specimens.”
“And what am I to do, Captain?” enquired Fred.
“What you please, lad.”
“Then I’ll go and take care of Meetuck; he’s apt to get into mischief when left—”
At this moment a tremendous shout of laughter, long-continued, came from the deck, and a sound as of numbers of men dancing overhead was heard.
The party in the cabin seized their caps and sprang up the companion, where they beheld a scene that accounted for the laughter, and induced them to join in it. At first sight it seemed as if thirty polar bears had boarded the vessel, and were executing a dance of triumph before proceeding to make a meal of the crew; but on closer inspection it became apparent that the men had undergone a strange transformation, and were capering with delight at the ridiculous appearance they presented. They were clad from head to foot in Esquimaux costume, and now bore as strong a resemblance to polar bears as man could attain to.
Meetuck was the pattern and the chief instrument in effecting this change. At Uppernavik Captain Guy had been induced to purchase a large number of fox-skins, deer-skins, seal-skins, and other furs as a speculation, and had them tightly packed and stowed away in the hold, little imagining the purpose they were ultimately destined to serve. Meetuck had come on board in a mongrel sort of worn-out seal-skin dress, but the instant the cold weather set in he drew from a bundle, which he had brought with him, a dress made of the furs of the Arctic fox, some of the skins being white and the others blue. It consisted of a loose coat somewhat in the form of a shirt, with a large hood to it, and a short elongation behind like the commencement of a tail. The boots were made of white bear-skin which, at the end of the foot, were made to terminate with the claws of the animal, and they were so long that they came up the thigh under the coat, or “jumper” as the men called it, and thus served instead of trousers. He also wore fur mittens, with a bag for the fingers, and a separate little bag for the thumb. The hair on these garments was long and soft, and worn outside, so that when a man enveloped himself in them, and put up the hood, which well-nigh concealed the face, he became very much like a bear, or some such creature, standing on its hind-legs.
Meetuck was a short, fat, burly little fellow by nature, but when he put on his winter dress he became such a round, soft, squat, hairy, and comical-looking creature that no one could look at him without laughing; and the shout with which he was received on deck the first time he made his appearance in his new costume was loud and prolonged. But Meetuck was as good-humoured an Esquimaux as ever speared a walrus or lanced a polar bear. He joined in the laugh, and cut a caper or two to show that he entered into the spirit of the joke.
When the ship was set fast, and the thermometer fell pretty low, the men found that their ordinary dreadnoughts and pea-jackets, etcetera, were not a sufficient protection against the cold, and it occurred to the captain that his furs might now be turned to good account. Sailors are proverbially good needle-men of a rough kind. Meetuck showed them how to set about their work; each man made his own garments, and in less than a week they were completed. It is true the boots perplexed them a little, and the less ingenious among the men made very rare and curious-looking foot-gear for themselves, but they succeeded after a fashion, and at last the whole crew appeared on deck in their new habiliments, as we have already mentioned, capering among the snow like bears, to their own entire satisfaction and to the intense delight of Meetuck, who now came to regard the white men as brothers—so true is it that “the tailor makes the man!”
“’Ow ’orribly ’eavy it is, hain’t it?” gasped Mivins, after dancing round the main-hatch till he was nearly exhausted.
“Heavy?” cried Buzzby, whose appearance was such that you would have hesitated to say whether his breadth or length was greater,—“heavy, d’ye say? It must be your sperrits wot’s heavy, then, for I feel as light as a feather myself.”
“O morther! then may I niver sleep on a bed made o’ sich feathers!” cried O’Riley, capering up to Green, the carpenter’s mate, and throwing a mass of snow in his face. The frost rendered it impossible to form the snow into balls, but the men made up for this by throwing it about each other’s eyes and ears in handfuls.
“What d’ye mean by insultin’ my mate?—take that!” said Peter Grim, giving the Irishman a twirl that tumbled him on the deck.
“Oh, bad manners to ye,” spluttered O’Riley, as he rose and ran away, “why don’t ye hit a man o’ yer own size.”
“’Deed, then, it must be because there’s not one o’ my own size to hit,” remarked the carpenter with a broad grin.
This was true. Grim’s colossal proportions were increased so much by his hairy dress that he seemed to spread out into the dimensions of two large men rolled into one. But O’Riley was not to be overturned with impunity. Skulking round behind the crew, who were laughing at Grim’s joke, he came upon the giant in the rear, and seizing the short tail of his jumper, pulled him violently down on the deck.
“Ah! then give it him, boys,” cried O’Riley, pushing the carpenter flat down, and obliterating his black beard and his whole visage in a mass of snow. Several of the wilder spirits among the men leaped on the prostrate Grim, and nearly smothered him before he could gather himself up for a struggle; then they fled in all directions, while their victim regained his feet and rushed wildly after them. At last he caught O’Riley, and grasping him by the two shoulders gave him a heave that was intended and “calc’lated,” as Amos Parr afterwards remarked, “to pitch him over the foretop-sail-yard!” But an Irishman is not easily overcome. O’Riley suddenly straightened himself and held his arms up over his head, and the violent heave, which, according to Parr, was to have sent him to such an uncomfortable elevation, only pulled the jumper completely off his body, and left him free to laugh in the face of his big friend, and run away.
At this point the captain deemed it prudent to interfere.
“Come, come, my lads,” he cried, “enough o’ this! That’s not the morning work, is it? I’m glad to find that your new dresses,” he added with a significant smile, “make you fond of rough work in the snow; there’s plenty of it before us. Come down below with me, Meetuck; I wish to talk with you.”
As the captain descended to the cabin the men gave a final cheer, and in ten minutes they were working laboriously at their various duties.
Buzzby and his party were the first ready and off to cut moss. They drew a sledge after them towards the Red-snow Valley, which was not more than two miles distant from the ship. This “mossing”, as it was termed, was by no means a pleasant duty. Before the winter became severe the moss could be cut out from the beds of the snow streams with comparative ease, but now the mixed turf of willows, heaths, grasses, and moss was frozen solid, and had to be quarried with crowbars and carried to the ship like so much stone. However, it was prosecuted vigorously, and a sufficient quantity was soon procured to pack on the decks of the ship, and around its sides, so as to keep out the cold. At the same time the operation of discharging the stores was carried on briskly, and Fred, in company with Meetuck, O’Riley, and Joseph West, started with the dog-sledge on a hunting expedition.
In order to enable the reader better to understand the condition of theDolphinand her crew, we will detail the several arrangements that were made at this time and during the succeeding fortnight. As a measure of precaution, the ship, by means of blasting, sawing, and warping, was with great labour got into deeper water, where one night’s frost set her fast with a sheet of ice three inches thick round her; in a few weeks this ice became several feet thick, and the snow drifted up her hull so much that it seemed as if she were resting on the land, and had taken final leave of her native element. Strong hawsers were then secured to Store Island in order to guard against the possibility of her being carried away by any sudden disruption of the ice. The disposition of the masts, yards, and sails were next determined on; the top-gallant masts were struck, the lower yards got down to the housings. The top-sail yards, gaff, and jib-boom, however, were left in their places. The top-sails and courses were kept bent to the yards, the sheets being unrove, and the clews tucked in. The rest of the binding sails were stowed on deck to prevent their thawing during winter; and the spare spars were lashed over the ship’s sides, to leave a clear space for taking exercise in bad weather.
The stores, in order to relieve the strain on the ship, were removed to Store Island, and snugly housed under the tent erected there, and then a thick bank of snow was heaped up round it. After this was accomplished, all the boats were hauled up beside the tent and covered with snow, except the two quarter boats, which were left hanging at the davits all winter. When the thermometer fell below zero it was found that the vapours below, and the breath of the men, condensed on the beams of the lower deck and in the cabin near the hatchway. It was therefore resolved to convert some sheet-iron, which they fortunately possessed, into pipes, which, being conducted from the cooking-stove through the length of the ship, served in some degree to raise the temperature and ventilate the cabins. A regular daily allowance of coal was served out, and four steady men appointed to attend to the fire in regular watches, for the double purpose of seeing that none of the fuel should be wasted, and of guarding against fire. They had likewise charge of the fire-pumps and buckets, and two tanks of water, all of which were kept in the hatchway in constant readiness in case of accidents. In addition to this, a fire-brigade was formed, with Joseph West, a steady, quiet, active young seaman, as its captain, and their stations in the event of fire were fixed beforehand; also a hole was kept constantly open in the ice alongside to ensure at all times a sufficient supply of water.
Strict regulations as to cleanliness, and the daily airing of the hammocks, were laid down, and adhered to throughout the winter. A regular allowance of provisions was appointed to each man, so that they should not run the risk of starving before the return of the wild fowl in spring. But those provisions were all salt, and the captain trusted much to their hunting expeditions for a supply of fresh food, without which there would be little hope of their continuing in a condition of good health. Coffee was served out at breakfast, and cocoa at supper, besides being occasionally supplied at other times to men who had been engaged in exhausting work in extremely cold weather. Afterwards, when the dark season set in, and the crew were confined by the intense cold more than formerly within the ship, various schemes were set afoot for passing the time profitably and agreeably. Among others a school was started by the captain for instructing such of the crew as chose to attend in reading, writing, and arithmetic, and in this hyperborean academy Fred Ellice acted as the writing-master, and Tom Singleton as the accountant. The men were much amused at first at the idea of “goin’ to school”, and some of them looked rather shy at it, but O’Riley, after some consideration, came boldly forward and said: “Well, boys, bad luck to me if I don’t think I’ll be a scholard afther all. My old gran’mother used to tell me, whin I refused to go to the school that was kip be an owld man as tuck his fees out in murphies and photteen,—says she: ‘Ah ye spalpeen, ye’ll niver be cliverer nor the pig, ye wont.’ ‘Ah, then, I hope not,’ says I, ‘for sure she’s far the cliverest in the house, an’ ye wouldn’t have me to be cliverer than me own gran’mother, would ye?’ says I. So I niver wint to school, and more be token, I can’t sign me name, and if it was only to learn how to do that, I’ll go and jine; indeed I will.” So O’Riley joined, and before long every man in the ship was glad to join, in order to have something to do.
The doctor also, twice a week, gave readings from Shakespeare, a copy of which he had fortunately brought with him. He also read extracts from the few other books they happened to have on board, and after a time, finding unexpectedly that he had a talent that way, he began to draw upon his memory and his imagination, and told long stories (which were facetiously calledlectures) to the men, who listened to them with great delight. Then Fred started an illustrated newspaper once a week, which was named theArctic Sun, and which was in great favour during the whole course of its brief existence. It is true, only one copy was issued each morning of publication, because, besides supplying the greater proportion of the material himself, and executing the illustrations in a style that would have made Mr Leech of the present day envious, he had to transcribe the various contributions he received from the men and others in a neat, legible hand. But thisonecopy was perused and reperused as no single copy of any paper extant—not exceptingThe TimesorPunch—has ever yet been perused; and when it was returned to the editor to be carefully placed in the archives of theDolphin, it was emphatically the worse for wear. Besides all this, a theatre was set agoing—of which we shall have more to say hereafter.
In thus minutely recounting the various expedients which these banished men fell upon to pass the long dark hours of an Arctic winter, we may, perhaps, give the reader the impression that a great deal of thought and time were bestowed uponamusement, as if that were the chief end and object of their life in those regions. But we must remind him that though many more pages might be filled in recounting all the particulars, but a small portion of their time was, after all, taken up in this way; and it would have been well for them had they been able to find more to amuse them than they did, for the depressing influence of the long-continued darkness, and the want of a sufficiency of regular employment for so many months, added to the rigorous nature of the climate in which they dwelt, well-nigh broke their spirits at last.
In order to secure warmth during winter, the deck of the ship was padded with moss about a foot deep, and, down below, the walls were lined with the same material. The floors were carefully plastered with common paste, and covered with oakum a couple of inches deep, over which a carpet of canvas was spread. Every opening in the deck was fastened down and covered deeply over with moss, with the exception of one hatch, which was their only entrance, and this was kept constantly closed, except when it was desirable to ventilate. Curtains were hung up in front of it to prevent draughts. A canvas awning was also spread over the decks from stem to stern, so that it was confidently hoped theDolphinwould prove a snug tenement even in the severest cold.
As has been said before, the snow-drift almost buried the hull of the ship; and, as snow is a goodnon-conductorof heat, this further helped to keep up the temperature within. A staircase of snow was built up to the bulwarks on the larboard quarter, and on the starboard side an inclined plane of snow was sloped down to the ice to facilitate the launching of the sledges when they had to be pulled on deck.
Such were the chief arrangements and preparations that were made by our adventurers for spending the winter; but although we have described them at this point in our story, many of them were not completed until a much later period.
Chapter Eleven.A Hunting Expedition, in the Course of which the Hunters meet with many Interesting, Dangerous, Peculiar, and Remarkable Experiences, and make Acquaintance with Seals, Walrus, Deer, and Rabbits.We must now return to Fred Ellice and his companions, Meetuck the Esquimaux, O’Riley, and Joseph West, whom we left while they were on the point of starting on a hunting expedition.They took the direction of the ice hummocks out to the sea, and, seated comfortably on a large sledge, were dragged by the team of dogs over the ice at the rate of ten miles an hour.“Well! did I iver expect to ride in a carriage and six?” exclaimed O’Riley in a state of great glee as the dogs dashed forward at full speed, while Meetuck flourished his awful whip, making it crack like a pistol-shot ever and anon.The sledge on which they travelled was of the very curious and simple construction peculiar to the Esquimaux, and was built by Peter Grim under the direction of Meetuck. It consisted of two runners of about ten feet in length, six inches high, two inches broad, and three feet apart. They were made of tough hickory, slightly curved in front, and were attached to each other by cross bars. At the stem of the vehicle there was a low back composed of two uprights and a single bar across. The whole machine was fastened together by means of tough lashings of raw seal-hide, so that, to all appearance, it was a rickety affair, ready to fall to pieces. In reality, however, it was very strong. No metal nails of any kind could have held in the keen frost; they would have snapped like glass at the first jolt; but the seal-skin fastenings yielded to the rude shocks and twistings to which the sledge was subjected, and seldom gave way, or, if they did, were easily and speedily renewed without the aid of any other implement than a knife.But the whip was the most remarkable part of the equipage. The handle was only sixteen inches in length, but the lash was twentyfeetlong, made of the toughest seal-skin, and as thick as a man’s wrist near the handle, whence it tapered off to a fine point. The labour of using such a formidable weapon is so great that Esquimaux usually, when practicable, travel in couples, one sledge behind the other. The dogs of the last sledge follow mechanically and require no whip, and the riders change about so as to relieve each other. When travelling, the whip trails behind, and can be brought with a tremendous crack that makes the hair fly from the wretch that is struck—and Esquimaux are splendidshots, so to speak. They can hit any part of a dog with certainty, but usually rest satisfied with simply cracking the whip, a sound that produces an answering yell of terror whether the lash takes effect or not.Our hunters were clothed in their Esquimaux garments, and cut the oddest imaginable figures. They had a soft, rotund, cuddled-up appearance that was powerfully suggestive of comfort. The sled carried one day’s provisions, a couple of walrus harpoons, with a sufficient quantity of rope, four muskets, with the requisite ammunition, an Esquimaux cooking-lamp, two stout spears, two tarpaulins to spread on the snow, and four blanket sleeping-bags. These last were six feet long, and just wide enough for a man to crawl into at night, feet first.“What a jolly style of travelling, isn’t it?” cried Fred, as the dogs sprang wildly forward, tearing the sledge behind them, Dumps and Poker leading, and looking as lively as crickets.“Well now, isn’t it true that wits jump?—that’s jist what I was sayin’ to meself,” remarked O’Riley, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled the fur hood farther over his head, crossed his arms more firmly on his breast, and tried to double himself up as he sat there like an overgrown rat. “I wouldn’t exchange it with the Lord Mayor o’ London and his coach an’ six—so I wouldn’t. Arrah! have a care, Meetuck, ye baste, or ye’ll have us kilt.”This last exclamation was caused by the reckless driver dashing over a piece of rough ice that nearly capsized the sledge. Meetuck did not answer, but he looked over his shoulder with a quiet smile on his oily countenance.“Ah, then, ye may laugh!” said O’Riley, with a menacing look, “but av ye break a bone o’ me body I’ll—”Down went the dogs into a crack in the ice as he spoke, over went the sledge, and hurled them all out upon the ice.“Musha! but ye’ve done it!”“Hallo, West, are you hurt?” cried Fred anxiously, as he observed the sailor fall heavily on the ice.“Oh no, sir; all right, thank you!” replied the man, rising alertly and limping to the sledge. “Only knocked the skin off my shin, sir.”West was a quiet, serious, polite man, an American by birth, who was much liked by the crew in consequence of a union of politeness and modesty with a disposition to work far beyond his strength. He was not very robust, however, and in powers of physical endurance scarcely fitted to engage in an Arctic expedition.“An’ don’t ye think it’s worth makin’ enquiries aboutme?” cried O’Riley, who had been tossed into a crevice in a hummock, where he lay jammed and utterly unable to move.Fred and the Esquimaux laughed heartily, while O’Riley extricated himself from his awkward position. Fortunately no damage was done, and in five minutes they were flying over the frozen sea as madly as ever in the direction of the point at the opposite side of Red-snow Valley, where a cloud of frost-smoke indicated open water.“Now, look you, Mr Meetuck, av ye do that again ye’ll better don’t, let me tell ye. Sure the back o’ me’s track entirely,” said O’Riley, as he rearranged himself with a look of comfort that belied his words. “Och, there ye go again,” he cried, as the sled suddenly fell about six inches, from a higher level to a lower, where the floe had cracked, causing the teeth of the whole party to come together with a snap. “A man dursen’t spake for fear o’ bitin’ his tongue off.”“No fee,” said Meetuck, looking over his shoulder with a broader smirk.“No fee, ye lump of pork! it’s a double fee I’ll have to pay the dacter an ye go on like that.”No feewas Meetuck’s best attempt at the wordsno fear. He had picked up a little English during his brief sojourn with the sailors, and already understood much of what was said to him, but words were as yet few, and his manner of pronouncing them peculiar.“Holo! look! look!” cried the Esquimaux, leaping suddenly off the sledge and checking the dogs.“Eh! what! where?” ejaculated Fred, seizing his musket.“I think I see something, sir,” cried West, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing earnestly in the direction indicated by Meetuck.“So do I, be the mortial!” said O’Riley in a hoarse whisper. “I see the mountains and the sky, I do, as plain as the nose on me face!”“Hush! stop your nonsense, man,” said Fred. “I see a deer, I’m certain of it.”Meetuck nodded violently to indicate that Fred was right.“Well, what’s to be done? luckily we are well to leeward, and it has neither sighted nor scented us.”Meetuck replied by gestures and words to the effect that West and O’Riley should remain with the dogs, and keep them quiet, under the shelter of a hummock, while he and Fred should go after the reindeer. Accordingly, away they went making a pretty long détour in order to gain the shore, and come upon it under the shelter of the grounded floes, behind which they might approach without being seen. In hurrying along the coast they observed the footprints of a musk ox, and also of several Arctic hares and foxes, which delighted them much, for hitherto they had seen none of those animals, and were beginning to be fearful lest they should not visit that part of the coast at all. Of course Fred knew not what sort of animals had made the tracks in question, but he was an adept at guessing, and the satisfied looks of his companion gave him reason to believe that he was correct in his surmises.In half an hour they came within range, and Fred, after debating with himself for some time as to the propriety of taking the first shot, triumphed over himself, and, stepping back a pace, motioned to the Esquimaux to fire. But Meetuck was an innate gentleman, and modestly declined, so Fred advanced, took a good aim, and fired.The deer bounded away, but stumbled as it went, showing that it was wounded.“Ha! ha! Meetuck,” exclaimed Fred, as he recharged in tremendous excitement (taking twice as long to load in consequence), “I’ve improved a little you see in my shoot—, o’ bother this—ramrod!—tut! tut! there, that’s it.”Bang went Meetuck’s musket at that moment, and the deer tumbled over upon the snow.“Well done, old fellow!” cried Fred, springing forward. At the same instant a white hare darted across his path, at which he fired, without even putting the gun to his shoulder, and knocked it over, to his own intense amazement.The three shots were the signal for the men to come up with the sledge, which they did at full gallop, O’Riley driving, and flourishing the long whip about in a way that soon entangled it hopelessly with the dogs’ traces.“Ah, then, ye’ve done it this time, ye have, sure enough! Musha! what a purty crature it is. Now, isn’t it, West? Stop, then, won’t ye (to the restive dogs), ye’ve broke my heart entirely, and the whip’s tied up into iver so many knots. Arrah, Meetuck! ye may drive yer coach yerself for me, you may; I’ve had more nor enough of it.”In a few minutes the deer and the hare were lashed to the sledge—which the Irishman asserted was a great improvement, inasmuch as the carcass of the former made an excellent seat—and they were off again at full gallop over the floes. They travelled without further interruption or mishap until they drew near to the open water, when suddenly they came upon a deep fissure or crack in the ice, about four feet wide, with water in the bottom. Here they came to a dead stop.“Arrah! what’s to be done now?” enquired O’Riley.“Indeed I don’t know,” replied Fred, looking toward Meetuck for advice.“Hup, cut-up ice, mush, hurroo!” said that fat individual. Fortunately he followed his advice with a practical illustration of its meaning. Seizing an axe he ran to the nearest hummock, and, chopping it down, rolled the heaviest pieces he could move into the chasm. The others followed his example, and, in the course of an hour, the place was bridged across, and the sledge passed over. But the dogs required a good deal of coaxing to get them to trust to this rude bridge, which their sagacity taught them was not to be depended on like the works of nature.A quarter of an hour’s drive brought them to a place where there was another crack of little more than two feet across. Meetuck stretched his neck and took a steady look at this as they approached it at full gallop. Being apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, he resumed his look of self-satisfied placidity.“Look out, Meetuck, pull up!” cried Fred in some alarm; but the Esquimaux paid no attention.“O morther, we’re gone now, for iver,” exclaimed O’Riley, shutting his eyes and clenching his teeth as he laid fast hold of the sides of the sledge.The feet of the dogs went faster and faster until they pattered on the hard surface of the snow like rain. Round came the long whip, as O’Riley said, “like the shot of a young cannon,” and the next moment they were across, skimming over the ice on the other side like the wind.It happened that there had been a break in the ice at this point on the previous night, and the floes had been cemented by a sheet of ice only an inch thick. Upon this, to the consternation even of Meetuck himself, they now passed, and in a moment, ere they were aware, they were passing over a smooth, black surface that undulated beneath them like the waves of the sea and crackled fearfully. There was nothing for it but to go on. A moment’s halt would have allowed the sledge to break through and leave them struggling in the water. There was no time for remark. Each man held his breath. Meetuck sent the heavy lash with a tremendous crack over the backs of the whole team, but just as they neared the solid floe, the left runner broke through. In a moment the men flung themselves horizontally upon their breasts, and scrambled over the smooth surface until they gained the white ice, while the sledge and the dogs nearest to it were sinking. One vigorous pull, however, by dogs and men together, dragged the sledge upon the solid floe, even before the things in it had got wet.“Safe!” cried Fred, as he hauled on the sledge rope to drag it farther out of danger.“So we are,” replied O’Riley, breathing very hard, “and it’s meself thought to have had a wet skin at this minute. Come, West, lind a hand to fix the dogs, will ye?”A few minutes sufficed to put all to rights and enable them to start afresh. Being now in the neighbourhood of dangerous ice, they advanced with a little more caution; the possibility of seals being in the neighbourhood also rendered them more circumspect. It was well that they were on the alert, for a band of seals were soon after descried in a pool of open water not far ahead, and one of them was lying on the ice.There were no hummocks, however, in the neighbourhood to enable them to approach unseen; but the Esquimaux was prepared for such a contingency. He had brought a small sledge, of about two feet in length by a foot and a half in breadth, which he now unfastened from the large sledge, and proceeded quietly to arrange it, to the surprise of his companions, who had not the least idea what he was about to do, and watched his proceedings with much interest.“Is it to sail on the ice ye’re goin’, boy?” enquired O’Riley, at last, when he saw Meetuck fix a couple of poles, about four feet long, into a hole in the little sledge, like two masts, and upon these spread a piece of canvas upwards of a yard square, with a small hole in the centre of it. But Meetuck answered not. He fastened the canvas “sail” to a cross-yard above and below. Then, placing a harpoon and coil of rope on the sledge, and taking up his musket, he made signs to the party to keep under the cover of a hummock, and, pushing the sledge before him, advanced towards the seals in a stooping posture, so as to be completely hid behind the bit of canvas.“Oh the haythen, I see it now!” exclaimed O’Riley, his face puckering up with fun. “Ah, but it’s a cliver trick, no doubt of it!”“What a capital dodge!” said Fred, crouching behind the hummock, and watching the movements of the Esquimaux with deep interest.“West, hand me the little telescope; you’ll find it in the pack.”“Here it is, sir,” said the man, pulling out a glass of about six inches long, and handing it to Fred.“How many is there, an’ ye plaze?”“Six, I think; yes—one, two, three,—I can’t make them out quite, but I think there are six, besides the one on the ice. Hist! there he sees him. Ah! Meetuck, he’s too quick for you.”As he spoke, the seal on the ice began to show symptoms of alarm. Meetuck had approached to within shot, but he did not fire; the wary Esquimaux had caught sight of another object which a lump of ice had hitherto concealed from view. This was no less a creature than a walrus, who chanced at that time to come up to take a gulp of fresh air, and lave his shaggy front in the brine, before going down again to the depths of his ocean home. Meetuck, therefore, allowed the seal to glide quietly into the sea, and advanced towards this new object of attack. At length he took a steady aim through the hole in the canvas screen, and fired. Instantly the seal dived, and at the same time the water round the walrus was lashed into foam, and tinged with red. It was evidently badly wounded, for had it been only slightly hurt it would probably have dived.Meetuck immediately seized his harpoon, and rushed towards the struggling monster, while Fred grasped a gun, and O’Riley a harpoon, and ran to his assistance. West remained to keep back the dogs. As Meetuck gained the edge of the ice the walrus recovered partially and tried, with savage fury, to reach his assailant, who planted the harpoon deep in its breast, and held on to the rope while the animal dived.“Whereabouts is he?” cried O’Riley, as he came panting to the scene of action.As he spoke, the walrus ascended almost under his nose, with a loud bellow, and the Irishman started back in terror as he surveyed at close quarters, for the first time, the colossal and horrible countenance of this elephant of the northern sea. O’Riley was no coward, but the suddenness of the apparition was too much for him, and we need not wonder that in his haste he darted the harpoon far over the animal’s head into the sea beyond. Neither need we feel surprised that when Fred took aim at its forehead, the sight of its broad muzzle, fringed with bristling moustache and defended by huge tusks, caused him to miss it altogether. But O’Riley recovered, hauled his harpoon back, and succeeded in planting it deep under the creature’s left flipper, and Fred, reloading, lodged a ball in its head which finished it. With great labour the four men, aided by the dogs, drew it out upon the ice.This was a great prize, for walrus flesh is not much inferior to beef, and would be an acceptable addition of fresh meat for the use of theDolphin’screw, and there was no chance of it spoiling, for the frost was now severe enough to freeze every animal solid almost immediately after it was killed.The body of this walrus was not less than eighteen feet long and eleven in circumference. It was more like an elephant in bulk and rotundity than any other creature. It partook very much of the form of a seal, having two large paw-like flippers, with which, when struggling for life, it had more than once nearly succeeded in getting upon the ice. Its upper face had a square, bluff aspect, and its broad muzzle and cheeks were completely covered by a coarse, quill-like beard of bristles, which gave to it a peculiarly ferocious appearance. The notion that the walrus resembles man is very much overrated. The square, bluff shape of the head already referred to, destroys the resemblance to humanity when distant, and its colossal size does the same when near. Some of the seals deserve this distinction more, their drooping shoulders and oval faces being strikingly like to those of man when at a distance. The white ivory tusks of this creature were carefully measured by Fred, and found to be thirty inches long.The resemblance of the walrus to our domestic land-animals has obtained for it, among sailors, the names of the sea-horse and sea-cow, and the records of its ferocity when attacked are numerous. Its hide is nearly an inch thick, and is put to many useful purposes by the Esquimaux, who live to a great extent on the flesh of this creature. They cut up his hide into long lines to attach to the harpoons with which they catch himself, the said harpoons being pointed with his own tusks. This tough hide is not the only garment the walrus wears to protect him from the cold. He also wears under-flannels of thick fat and a top-coat of close hair, so that he can take a siesta on an iceberg without the least inconvenience. Talking of siestas, by the way, the walrus is sometimes “caught napping”. Occasionally, when the weather is intensely cold, the hole through which he crawls upon the ice gets frozen over so solidly that, on waking, he finds it beyond even his enormous power to break it. In this extremity there is no alternative but to go to sleep again, and—die! which he does as comfortably as he can. The polar bears, however, are quick to smell him out, and assembling round his carcass for a feast, they dispose of him, body and bones, without ceremony.As it was impossible to drag this unwieldy animal to the ship that night, for the days had now shortened very considerably, the hunters hauled it towards the land, and, having reached the secure ice, prepared to encamp for the night under the lee of a small iceberg.
We must now return to Fred Ellice and his companions, Meetuck the Esquimaux, O’Riley, and Joseph West, whom we left while they were on the point of starting on a hunting expedition.
They took the direction of the ice hummocks out to the sea, and, seated comfortably on a large sledge, were dragged by the team of dogs over the ice at the rate of ten miles an hour.
“Well! did I iver expect to ride in a carriage and six?” exclaimed O’Riley in a state of great glee as the dogs dashed forward at full speed, while Meetuck flourished his awful whip, making it crack like a pistol-shot ever and anon.
The sledge on which they travelled was of the very curious and simple construction peculiar to the Esquimaux, and was built by Peter Grim under the direction of Meetuck. It consisted of two runners of about ten feet in length, six inches high, two inches broad, and three feet apart. They were made of tough hickory, slightly curved in front, and were attached to each other by cross bars. At the stem of the vehicle there was a low back composed of two uprights and a single bar across. The whole machine was fastened together by means of tough lashings of raw seal-hide, so that, to all appearance, it was a rickety affair, ready to fall to pieces. In reality, however, it was very strong. No metal nails of any kind could have held in the keen frost; they would have snapped like glass at the first jolt; but the seal-skin fastenings yielded to the rude shocks and twistings to which the sledge was subjected, and seldom gave way, or, if they did, were easily and speedily renewed without the aid of any other implement than a knife.
But the whip was the most remarkable part of the equipage. The handle was only sixteen inches in length, but the lash was twentyfeetlong, made of the toughest seal-skin, and as thick as a man’s wrist near the handle, whence it tapered off to a fine point. The labour of using such a formidable weapon is so great that Esquimaux usually, when practicable, travel in couples, one sledge behind the other. The dogs of the last sledge follow mechanically and require no whip, and the riders change about so as to relieve each other. When travelling, the whip trails behind, and can be brought with a tremendous crack that makes the hair fly from the wretch that is struck—and Esquimaux are splendidshots, so to speak. They can hit any part of a dog with certainty, but usually rest satisfied with simply cracking the whip, a sound that produces an answering yell of terror whether the lash takes effect or not.
Our hunters were clothed in their Esquimaux garments, and cut the oddest imaginable figures. They had a soft, rotund, cuddled-up appearance that was powerfully suggestive of comfort. The sled carried one day’s provisions, a couple of walrus harpoons, with a sufficient quantity of rope, four muskets, with the requisite ammunition, an Esquimaux cooking-lamp, two stout spears, two tarpaulins to spread on the snow, and four blanket sleeping-bags. These last were six feet long, and just wide enough for a man to crawl into at night, feet first.
“What a jolly style of travelling, isn’t it?” cried Fred, as the dogs sprang wildly forward, tearing the sledge behind them, Dumps and Poker leading, and looking as lively as crickets.
“Well now, isn’t it true that wits jump?—that’s jist what I was sayin’ to meself,” remarked O’Riley, grinning from ear to ear as he pulled the fur hood farther over his head, crossed his arms more firmly on his breast, and tried to double himself up as he sat there like an overgrown rat. “I wouldn’t exchange it with the Lord Mayor o’ London and his coach an’ six—so I wouldn’t. Arrah! have a care, Meetuck, ye baste, or ye’ll have us kilt.”
This last exclamation was caused by the reckless driver dashing over a piece of rough ice that nearly capsized the sledge. Meetuck did not answer, but he looked over his shoulder with a quiet smile on his oily countenance.
“Ah, then, ye may laugh!” said O’Riley, with a menacing look, “but av ye break a bone o’ me body I’ll—”
Down went the dogs into a crack in the ice as he spoke, over went the sledge, and hurled them all out upon the ice.
“Musha! but ye’ve done it!”
“Hallo, West, are you hurt?” cried Fred anxiously, as he observed the sailor fall heavily on the ice.
“Oh no, sir; all right, thank you!” replied the man, rising alertly and limping to the sledge. “Only knocked the skin off my shin, sir.”
West was a quiet, serious, polite man, an American by birth, who was much liked by the crew in consequence of a union of politeness and modesty with a disposition to work far beyond his strength. He was not very robust, however, and in powers of physical endurance scarcely fitted to engage in an Arctic expedition.
“An’ don’t ye think it’s worth makin’ enquiries aboutme?” cried O’Riley, who had been tossed into a crevice in a hummock, where he lay jammed and utterly unable to move.
Fred and the Esquimaux laughed heartily, while O’Riley extricated himself from his awkward position. Fortunately no damage was done, and in five minutes they were flying over the frozen sea as madly as ever in the direction of the point at the opposite side of Red-snow Valley, where a cloud of frost-smoke indicated open water.
“Now, look you, Mr Meetuck, av ye do that again ye’ll better don’t, let me tell ye. Sure the back o’ me’s track entirely,” said O’Riley, as he rearranged himself with a look of comfort that belied his words. “Och, there ye go again,” he cried, as the sled suddenly fell about six inches, from a higher level to a lower, where the floe had cracked, causing the teeth of the whole party to come together with a snap. “A man dursen’t spake for fear o’ bitin’ his tongue off.”
“No fee,” said Meetuck, looking over his shoulder with a broader smirk.
“No fee, ye lump of pork! it’s a double fee I’ll have to pay the dacter an ye go on like that.”
No feewas Meetuck’s best attempt at the wordsno fear. He had picked up a little English during his brief sojourn with the sailors, and already understood much of what was said to him, but words were as yet few, and his manner of pronouncing them peculiar.
“Holo! look! look!” cried the Esquimaux, leaping suddenly off the sledge and checking the dogs.
“Eh! what! where?” ejaculated Fred, seizing his musket.
“I think I see something, sir,” cried West, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazing earnestly in the direction indicated by Meetuck.
“So do I, be the mortial!” said O’Riley in a hoarse whisper. “I see the mountains and the sky, I do, as plain as the nose on me face!”
“Hush! stop your nonsense, man,” said Fred. “I see a deer, I’m certain of it.”
Meetuck nodded violently to indicate that Fred was right.
“Well, what’s to be done? luckily we are well to leeward, and it has neither sighted nor scented us.”
Meetuck replied by gestures and words to the effect that West and O’Riley should remain with the dogs, and keep them quiet, under the shelter of a hummock, while he and Fred should go after the reindeer. Accordingly, away they went making a pretty long détour in order to gain the shore, and come upon it under the shelter of the grounded floes, behind which they might approach without being seen. In hurrying along the coast they observed the footprints of a musk ox, and also of several Arctic hares and foxes, which delighted them much, for hitherto they had seen none of those animals, and were beginning to be fearful lest they should not visit that part of the coast at all. Of course Fred knew not what sort of animals had made the tracks in question, but he was an adept at guessing, and the satisfied looks of his companion gave him reason to believe that he was correct in his surmises.
In half an hour they came within range, and Fred, after debating with himself for some time as to the propriety of taking the first shot, triumphed over himself, and, stepping back a pace, motioned to the Esquimaux to fire. But Meetuck was an innate gentleman, and modestly declined, so Fred advanced, took a good aim, and fired.
The deer bounded away, but stumbled as it went, showing that it was wounded.
“Ha! ha! Meetuck,” exclaimed Fred, as he recharged in tremendous excitement (taking twice as long to load in consequence), “I’ve improved a little you see in my shoot—, o’ bother this—ramrod!—tut! tut! there, that’s it.”
Bang went Meetuck’s musket at that moment, and the deer tumbled over upon the snow.
“Well done, old fellow!” cried Fred, springing forward. At the same instant a white hare darted across his path, at which he fired, without even putting the gun to his shoulder, and knocked it over, to his own intense amazement.
The three shots were the signal for the men to come up with the sledge, which they did at full gallop, O’Riley driving, and flourishing the long whip about in a way that soon entangled it hopelessly with the dogs’ traces.
“Ah, then, ye’ve done it this time, ye have, sure enough! Musha! what a purty crature it is. Now, isn’t it, West? Stop, then, won’t ye (to the restive dogs), ye’ve broke my heart entirely, and the whip’s tied up into iver so many knots. Arrah, Meetuck! ye may drive yer coach yerself for me, you may; I’ve had more nor enough of it.”
In a few minutes the deer and the hare were lashed to the sledge—which the Irishman asserted was a great improvement, inasmuch as the carcass of the former made an excellent seat—and they were off again at full gallop over the floes. They travelled without further interruption or mishap until they drew near to the open water, when suddenly they came upon a deep fissure or crack in the ice, about four feet wide, with water in the bottom. Here they came to a dead stop.
“Arrah! what’s to be done now?” enquired O’Riley.
“Indeed I don’t know,” replied Fred, looking toward Meetuck for advice.
“Hup, cut-up ice, mush, hurroo!” said that fat individual. Fortunately he followed his advice with a practical illustration of its meaning. Seizing an axe he ran to the nearest hummock, and, chopping it down, rolled the heaviest pieces he could move into the chasm. The others followed his example, and, in the course of an hour, the place was bridged across, and the sledge passed over. But the dogs required a good deal of coaxing to get them to trust to this rude bridge, which their sagacity taught them was not to be depended on like the works of nature.
A quarter of an hour’s drive brought them to a place where there was another crack of little more than two feet across. Meetuck stretched his neck and took a steady look at this as they approached it at full gallop. Being apparently satisfied with his scrutiny, he resumed his look of self-satisfied placidity.
“Look out, Meetuck, pull up!” cried Fred in some alarm; but the Esquimaux paid no attention.
“O morther, we’re gone now, for iver,” exclaimed O’Riley, shutting his eyes and clenching his teeth as he laid fast hold of the sides of the sledge.
The feet of the dogs went faster and faster until they pattered on the hard surface of the snow like rain. Round came the long whip, as O’Riley said, “like the shot of a young cannon,” and the next moment they were across, skimming over the ice on the other side like the wind.
It happened that there had been a break in the ice at this point on the previous night, and the floes had been cemented by a sheet of ice only an inch thick. Upon this, to the consternation even of Meetuck himself, they now passed, and in a moment, ere they were aware, they were passing over a smooth, black surface that undulated beneath them like the waves of the sea and crackled fearfully. There was nothing for it but to go on. A moment’s halt would have allowed the sledge to break through and leave them struggling in the water. There was no time for remark. Each man held his breath. Meetuck sent the heavy lash with a tremendous crack over the backs of the whole team, but just as they neared the solid floe, the left runner broke through. In a moment the men flung themselves horizontally upon their breasts, and scrambled over the smooth surface until they gained the white ice, while the sledge and the dogs nearest to it were sinking. One vigorous pull, however, by dogs and men together, dragged the sledge upon the solid floe, even before the things in it had got wet.
“Safe!” cried Fred, as he hauled on the sledge rope to drag it farther out of danger.
“So we are,” replied O’Riley, breathing very hard, “and it’s meself thought to have had a wet skin at this minute. Come, West, lind a hand to fix the dogs, will ye?”
A few minutes sufficed to put all to rights and enable them to start afresh. Being now in the neighbourhood of dangerous ice, they advanced with a little more caution; the possibility of seals being in the neighbourhood also rendered them more circumspect. It was well that they were on the alert, for a band of seals were soon after descried in a pool of open water not far ahead, and one of them was lying on the ice.
There were no hummocks, however, in the neighbourhood to enable them to approach unseen; but the Esquimaux was prepared for such a contingency. He had brought a small sledge, of about two feet in length by a foot and a half in breadth, which he now unfastened from the large sledge, and proceeded quietly to arrange it, to the surprise of his companions, who had not the least idea what he was about to do, and watched his proceedings with much interest.
“Is it to sail on the ice ye’re goin’, boy?” enquired O’Riley, at last, when he saw Meetuck fix a couple of poles, about four feet long, into a hole in the little sledge, like two masts, and upon these spread a piece of canvas upwards of a yard square, with a small hole in the centre of it. But Meetuck answered not. He fastened the canvas “sail” to a cross-yard above and below. Then, placing a harpoon and coil of rope on the sledge, and taking up his musket, he made signs to the party to keep under the cover of a hummock, and, pushing the sledge before him, advanced towards the seals in a stooping posture, so as to be completely hid behind the bit of canvas.
“Oh the haythen, I see it now!” exclaimed O’Riley, his face puckering up with fun. “Ah, but it’s a cliver trick, no doubt of it!”
“What a capital dodge!” said Fred, crouching behind the hummock, and watching the movements of the Esquimaux with deep interest.
“West, hand me the little telescope; you’ll find it in the pack.”
“Here it is, sir,” said the man, pulling out a glass of about six inches long, and handing it to Fred.
“How many is there, an’ ye plaze?”
“Six, I think; yes—one, two, three,—I can’t make them out quite, but I think there are six, besides the one on the ice. Hist! there he sees him. Ah! Meetuck, he’s too quick for you.”
As he spoke, the seal on the ice began to show symptoms of alarm. Meetuck had approached to within shot, but he did not fire; the wary Esquimaux had caught sight of another object which a lump of ice had hitherto concealed from view. This was no less a creature than a walrus, who chanced at that time to come up to take a gulp of fresh air, and lave his shaggy front in the brine, before going down again to the depths of his ocean home. Meetuck, therefore, allowed the seal to glide quietly into the sea, and advanced towards this new object of attack. At length he took a steady aim through the hole in the canvas screen, and fired. Instantly the seal dived, and at the same time the water round the walrus was lashed into foam, and tinged with red. It was evidently badly wounded, for had it been only slightly hurt it would probably have dived.
Meetuck immediately seized his harpoon, and rushed towards the struggling monster, while Fred grasped a gun, and O’Riley a harpoon, and ran to his assistance. West remained to keep back the dogs. As Meetuck gained the edge of the ice the walrus recovered partially and tried, with savage fury, to reach his assailant, who planted the harpoon deep in its breast, and held on to the rope while the animal dived.
“Whereabouts is he?” cried O’Riley, as he came panting to the scene of action.
As he spoke, the walrus ascended almost under his nose, with a loud bellow, and the Irishman started back in terror as he surveyed at close quarters, for the first time, the colossal and horrible countenance of this elephant of the northern sea. O’Riley was no coward, but the suddenness of the apparition was too much for him, and we need not wonder that in his haste he darted the harpoon far over the animal’s head into the sea beyond. Neither need we feel surprised that when Fred took aim at its forehead, the sight of its broad muzzle, fringed with bristling moustache and defended by huge tusks, caused him to miss it altogether. But O’Riley recovered, hauled his harpoon back, and succeeded in planting it deep under the creature’s left flipper, and Fred, reloading, lodged a ball in its head which finished it. With great labour the four men, aided by the dogs, drew it out upon the ice.
This was a great prize, for walrus flesh is not much inferior to beef, and would be an acceptable addition of fresh meat for the use of theDolphin’screw, and there was no chance of it spoiling, for the frost was now severe enough to freeze every animal solid almost immediately after it was killed.
The body of this walrus was not less than eighteen feet long and eleven in circumference. It was more like an elephant in bulk and rotundity than any other creature. It partook very much of the form of a seal, having two large paw-like flippers, with which, when struggling for life, it had more than once nearly succeeded in getting upon the ice. Its upper face had a square, bluff aspect, and its broad muzzle and cheeks were completely covered by a coarse, quill-like beard of bristles, which gave to it a peculiarly ferocious appearance. The notion that the walrus resembles man is very much overrated. The square, bluff shape of the head already referred to, destroys the resemblance to humanity when distant, and its colossal size does the same when near. Some of the seals deserve this distinction more, their drooping shoulders and oval faces being strikingly like to those of man when at a distance. The white ivory tusks of this creature were carefully measured by Fred, and found to be thirty inches long.
The resemblance of the walrus to our domestic land-animals has obtained for it, among sailors, the names of the sea-horse and sea-cow, and the records of its ferocity when attacked are numerous. Its hide is nearly an inch thick, and is put to many useful purposes by the Esquimaux, who live to a great extent on the flesh of this creature. They cut up his hide into long lines to attach to the harpoons with which they catch himself, the said harpoons being pointed with his own tusks. This tough hide is not the only garment the walrus wears to protect him from the cold. He also wears under-flannels of thick fat and a top-coat of close hair, so that he can take a siesta on an iceberg without the least inconvenience. Talking of siestas, by the way, the walrus is sometimes “caught napping”. Occasionally, when the weather is intensely cold, the hole through which he crawls upon the ice gets frozen over so solidly that, on waking, he finds it beyond even his enormous power to break it. In this extremity there is no alternative but to go to sleep again, and—die! which he does as comfortably as he can. The polar bears, however, are quick to smell him out, and assembling round his carcass for a feast, they dispose of him, body and bones, without ceremony.
As it was impossible to drag this unwieldy animal to the ship that night, for the days had now shortened very considerably, the hunters hauled it towards the land, and, having reached the secure ice, prepared to encamp for the night under the lee of a small iceberg.
Chapter Twelve.A Dangerous Sleep interrupted—A Night in a Snow-Hut, and an Unpleasant Visitor—Snowed up.“Now then,” cried Fred, as they drew up on a level portion of the ice-floe, where the snow on its surface was so hard that the runners of the sledge scarce made an impression on it, “let us to work, lads, and get the tarpaulins spread; we shall have to sleep to-night under star-spangled bed-curtains.”“Troth,” said O’Riley, gazing round towards the land, where the distant cliffs loomed black and heavy in the fading light, and out upon the floes and hummocks, where the frost smoke from pools of open water on the horizon circled round the pinnacles of the icebergs,—“troth, it’s a cowld place intirely to go to wan’s bed in, but that fat-faced Exqueemaw seems to be settin’ about it quite coolly; so here goes!”“It would be difficult to set about it otherwise than coolly with the thermometer thirty-five below zero,” remarked Fred, beating his hands together, and stamping his feet, while the breath issued from his mouth like dense clouds of steam, and fringed the edges of his hood and the breast of his jumper with hoar-frost.“It’s quite purty, it is,” remarked O’Riley, in reference to this wreath of hoar-frost, which covered the upper parts of each of them; “it’s jist like the ermine that kings and queens wear, so I’m towld, and it’s chaper a long way.”“I don’t know that,” said Joseph West. “It has cost us a rough voyage and a winter in the Arctic regions, if it doesn’t cost us more yet, to put that ermine fringe on our jumpers. I can make nothing of this knot; try what you can do with it, messmate, will you?”“Sorra wan o’ me ’ll try it,” cried O’Riley, suddenly leaping up and swinging both arms violently against his shoulders; “I’ve got two hands, I have, but niver a finger on them—leastwise I feel none, though itissome small degrae o’ comfort to see them.”“My toes are much in the same condition,” said West, stamping vigorously until he brought back the circulation.“Dance, then, wid me,” cried the Irishman, suiting his action to the word. “I’ve a mortial fear o’ bein’ bit wid the frost for it’s no joke, let me tell you. Didn’t I see a whole ship’s crew wance that wos wrecked in the Gulf o’ Saint Lawrence about the beginnin’ o’ winter, and before they got to a part o’ the coast where there was a house belongin’ to the fur-traders, ivery man-jack o’ them was frost-bit more or less, they wor. Wan lost a thumb, and another the jint of a finger or two, and most o’ them had two or three toes off, an’ there wos wan poor fellow who lost the front half o’ wan fut, an’ the heel o’ the other, an’ two inches o’ the bone was stickin’ out. Sure, it’s truth I’m tellin’ ye, for I seed it wid me own two eyes, I did.”The earnest tones in which the last words were spoken convinced his comrades that O’Riley was telling the truth, so, having a decided objection to be placed in similar circumstances, they danced and beat each other until they were quite in a glow.“Why, what are you at there, Meetuck?” exclaimed Fred, pausing.“Igloe, make,” replied the Esquimaux.“Ig— what?” enquired O’Riley.“Oh, I see!” shouted Fred, “he’s going to make a snow-hut,—igloes they call them here. Capital!—I never thought of that! Come along; let’s help him!”Meetuck was indeed about to erect one of those curious dwellings of snow in which, for the greater part of the year, his primitive countrymen dwell. He had no taste for star-spangled bed-curtains, when solid walls, whiter than the purest dimity, were to be had for nothing. His first operation in the erection of this hut was to mark out a circle of about seven feet diameter. From the inside of this circle the snow was cut by means of a long knife in the form of slabs nearly a foot thick, and from two to three feet long, having a slight convexity on the outside. These slabs were then so cut and arranged that, when they were piled upon each other round the margin of the circle, they formed a dome-shaped structure like a bee-hive, which was six feet high inside, and remarkably solid. The slabs were cemented together with loose snow, and every accidental chink or crevice filled up with the same material. The natives sometimes insert a block of clear ice in the roof for a window, but this was dispensed with on the present occasion—firstly, because there was no light to let in; and, secondly, because if there had been, they didn’t want it.The building of the hut occupied only an hour, for the hunters were cold and hungry, and in their case the old proverb might have been paraphrased: “Nowork, no supper.” A hole, just large enough to permit a man to creep through on his hands and knees, formed the door of this bee-hive. Attached to this hole, and cemented to it, was a low tunnel of about four feet in length. When finished, both ends of the tunnel were closed up with slabs of hard snow, which served the purpose of double doors, and effectually kept out the cold.While this tunnel was approaching completion, Fred retired to a short distance, and sat down to rest a few minutes on a block of ice.A great change had come over the scene during the time they were at work on the snow-hut. The night had settled down, and now the whole sky was lit up with the vivid and beautiful coruscations of the Aurora Borealis—that magnificent meteor of the north which, in some measure, makes up to the inhabitants for the absence of the sun. It spread over the whole extent of the sky in the form of an irregular arch, and was intensely brilliant. But the brilliancy varied, as the green ethereal fire waved mysteriously to and fro, or shot up long streamers toward the zenith. These streamers, or “merry dancers” as they are sometimes termed, were at times peculiarly bright. Their colour was most frequently yellowish white, sometimes greenish, and once or twice of a lilac tinge. The strength of the light was something greater than that of the moon in her quarter, and the stars were dimmed when the Aurora passed over them as if they had been covered with a delicate gauze veil.But that which struck our hero as being most remarkable was the magnitude and dazzling brightness of the host of stars that covered the black firmament. It seemed as if they were magnified in glory, and twinkled so much that the sky seemed, as it were, to tremble with light. A feeling of deep solemnity filled Fred’s heart as he gazed upwards; and as he thought upon the Creator of these mysterious worlds—and remembered that He came to this little planet of ours to work out the miracle of our redemption, the words that he had often read in the Bible: “Lord, what is man that thou art mindful of him?” came forcibly to his remembrance, and he felt the appropriateness of that sentiment which the sweet singer of Israel has expressed in the words: “Praise ye him, sun and moon; praise him, all ye stars of light.”There was a deep, solemn stillness all around—a stillness widely different from that peaceful composure which characterises a calm day in an inhabited land. It was the death-like stillness of that most peculiar and dreary desolation which results from the total absence of animal existence. The silence was so oppressive that it was with a feeling of relief he listened to the low, distant voices of the men as they paused ever and anon in their busy task to note and remark on the progress of their work. In the intense cold of an Arctic night the sound of voices can be heard at a much greater distance than usual, and although the men were far off, and hummocks of ice intervened between them and Fred, their tones broke distinctly, though gently, on his ear. Yet these sounds did not interrupt the unusual stillness. They served rather to impress him more forcibly with the vastness of that tremendous solitude in the midst of which he stood.Gradually his thoughts turned homeward, and he thought of the dear ones who circled round his own fireside, and, perchance, talked of him; of the various companions he had left behind, and the scenes of life and beauty where he used to wander; but such memories led him irresistibly to the far north again, for in all home-scenes the figure of his father started up, and he was back again in an instant, searching toilsomely among the floes and icebergs of the Polar Seas. Itwasthe invariable ending of poor Fred’s meditations, and, however successful he might be in entering, for a time, into the spirit of fun that characterised most of the doings of his shipmates, and in following the bent of his own joyous nature, in the hours of solitude, and in the dark night, when no one saw him, his mind ever reverted to the one engrossing subject, like the oscillating needle to the pole.As he continued to gaze up, long and earnestly, into the starry sky, his thoughts began to wander over the past and the present at random, and a cold shudder warned him that it was time to return to the hut; but the wandering thoughts and fancies seemed to chain him to the spot, so that he could not tear himself away. Then a dreamy feeling of rest and comfort began to steal over his senses, and he thought how pleasant it would be to lie down and slumber; but he knew that would be dangerous, so he determined not to do it.Suddenly he felt himself touched, and heard a voice whispering in his ear. Then it sounded loud. “Hallo, sir! Mr Ellice! Wake up, sir, d’ye hear me?” and he felt himself shaken so violently that his teeth rattled together. Opening his eyes reluctantly, he found that he was stretched at full length on the snow, and Joseph West was shaking him by the shoulder as if he meant to dislocate his arm.“Hallo, West! is that you? Let me alone, man, I want to sleep.” Fred sank down again instantly—that deadly sleep, produced by cold, and from which those who indulge in it never awaken, was upon him.“Sleep!” cried West frantically, “you’ll die, sir, if you don’t rouse up. Hallo! Meetuck! O’Riley! help here!”“I tell you,” murmured Fred faintly, “I want to sleep—only a moment or two—ah! I see; is the hut finished? Well, well, go, leave me. I’ll follow—in—a—”His voice died away again, just as Meetuck and O’Riley came running up. The instant the former saw how matters stood, he raised Fred in his powerful arms, set him on his feet, and shook him with such vigour that it seemed as if every bone in his body must be forced out of joint.“What mane ye by that, ye blubber-bag?” cried the Irishman wrathfully, doubling his mittened fists and advancing in a threatening manner towards the Esquimaux; but, seeing that the savage paid not the least attention to him, and kept on shaking Fred violently with a good-humoured smile on his countenance, he wisely desisted from interfering.In a few minutes Fred was able to stand and look about him with a stupid expression, and immediately the Esquimaux dragged, and pushed, and shook him along towards the snow-hut, into which he was finally thrust, though with some trouble, in consequence of the lowness of the tunnel. Here, by means of rubbing and chafing, with a little more buffeting, he was restored to some degree of heat; on seeing which Meetuck uttered a quiet grunt, and immediately set about preparing supper.“I do believe I’ve been asleep,” said Fred, rising and stretching himself vigorously as the bright flame of a tin lamp shot forth and shed a yellow lustre on the white walls.“Aslape is it! be me conscience an’ ye have just. Oh then, may I never indulge in the same sort o’ slumber!”“Why so?” asked Fred in some surprise.“You fell asleep on the ice, sir,” answered West, while he busied himself in spreading the tarpaulin and blanket-bags on the floor of the hut, “and you were very near frozen to death.”“Frozen, musha! I’m not too shure that he’s melted yit!” said O’Riley, taking him by the arm and looking at him dubiously.Fred laughed. “Oh yes; I’m melted now! But let’s have supper, else I shall faint for hunger. Did I sleep many hours?”“You slept only five minutes,” said West, in some surprise at the question. “You were only gone about ten minutes altogether.”This was indeed the case. The intense desire for sleep which is produced in Arctic countries when the frost seizes hold of the frame soon confuses the faculties of those who come under its influence. As long as Fred had continued to walk and work, he felt quite warm, but the instant he sat down on the lump of ice to rest, the frost acted on him. Being much exhausted, too, by labour and long fasting, he was more susceptible than he would otherwise have been to the influence of cold, so that it chilled him at once, and produced that deadly lethargy from which, but for the timely aid of his companions, he would never have recovered.The arrangements for supping and spending the night made rapid progress, and under the influence of fire and animal heat—for the dogs were taken in beside them—the igloe became comfortably warm; yet the snow-walls did not melt, or become moist, the intense cold without being sufficient to counteract and protect them from the heat within. The fair roof, however, soon became very dingy, and the odour of melted fat rather powerful. But Arctic travellers are proof against such trifles.The tarpaulin was spread over the floor, and a tin lamp, into which several fat portions of the walrus were put, was suspended from a stick thrust into the wall. Round this lamp the hunters circled, each seated on his blanket-bag, and each attended to the duty which devolved upon him. Meetuck held a tin kettle over the flame till the snow with which it was filled melted and became cold water, and then gradually heated until it boiled; and all the while he employed himself in masticating a lump of raw walrus flesh, much to the amusement of Fred, and to the disgust, real or pretended, of O’Riley. But the Irishman, and Fred too, and every man on board theDolphin, came at last torelishraw meat, and to long for it. The Esquimaux prefer it raw in these parts of the world (although some travellers assert that in more southern latitudes they prefer cooked meat), and with good reason, for it is much more nourishing than cooked flesh; and learned, scientific men, who have wintered in the Arctic regions, have distinctly stated that in those cold countries they found raw meat to be better for them than cooked meat, and they assure us that they at last came topreferit! We would not have our readers to begin forthwith to dispense with the art of cookery, and cast Soyer to the dogs; but we would have them henceforth refuse to accept that common opinion, and vulgar error, that Esquimaux eat their food rawbecause they are savages. They do it because nature teaches them that, under the circumstances, it is best.The duty that devolved upon O’Riley was to roast small steaks of the walrus, in which operation he was assisted by West, while Fred undertook to get out the biscuit-bag and pewter plates, and to infuse the coffee when the water should boil. It was a strange feast in a strange place, but it proved to be a delightful one; for hunger requires not to be tempted, and is not fastidious.“Oh, but it’s good, isn’t it?” remarked O’Riley, smacking his lips, as he swallowed a savoury morsel of the walrus and tossed the remnant—a sinewy bit—to Dumps, who sat gazing sulkily at the flame of the lamp, having gorged himself long before the bipeds began supper.“Arrah! ye won’t take it, won’t ye? Here, Poker!”Poker sprang forward, wagging the stump of his tail, and turned his head to one side, as if to say: “Well, what’s up? Any fun going?”“Here, take that, old boy; Dumps is sulky.”Poker took it at once, and a single snap caused it to vanish. He, too, had finished supper, and evidently ate the morsel to please the Irishman.“Hand me the coffee, Meetuck,” said Fred. “The biscuit lies beside you, don’t give in so soon, man.”“Thank you, sir, I have about done.”“Meetuck, ye haythen, try a bit o’ the roast; do now, av it was only to plaaze me.”Meetuck shook his head quietly, and, cutting afifteenthlump off the mass of raw walrus that lay beside him, proceeded leisurely to devour it.“The dogs is nothin’ to him,” muttered O’Riley. “Isn’t it a curious thing, now, to think that we’re all atseaa eatin’, and drinkin’, and slaapin’—or goin’ to slaape—jist as if we wor on the land, and the great ocean away down below us there, wid whales, and seals, and walrusses, and mermaids, for what I know, a swimmin’ about jist under whare we sit, and maybe lookin’ through the ice at us this very minute. Isn’t it quare?”“It is odd,” said Fred, laughing, “and not a very pleasant idea. However, as there is at least twelve feet of solid ice between us and the company you mention, we don’t need to care much.”“Ov coorse not,” replied O’Riley, nodding his head approvingly as he lighted his pipe; “that’s my mind intirely, in all cases o’ danger, when ye don’t need to be afeared, ye needn’t much care. It’s a good chart to steer by, that same.”This last remark seemed to afford so much food for thought to the company that nothing further was said by anyone until Fred rose and proposed to turn in. West had already crawled into his blanket-bag, and was stretched out like a mummy on the floor, and the sound of Meetuck’s jaws still continued as he winked sleepily over the walrus meat, when a scraping was heard outside the hut.“Sure, it’s the foxes; I’ll go and look,” whispered O’Riley, laying down his pipe and creeping to the mouth of the tunnel.He came back, however, faster than he went, with a look of consternation, for the first object that confronted him on looking out was the enormous head of a Polar bear. To glance round for their firearms was the first impulse, but these had unfortunately been left on the sledge outside. What was to be done? They had nothing but their clasp-knives in the igloe. In this extremity Meetuck cut a large hole in the back of the hut intending to creep out and procure one of the muskets, but the instant the opening was made the bear’s head filled it up. With a savage yell O’Riley seized the lamp and dashed the flaming fat in the creature’s face. It was a reckless deed, for it left them all in the dark, but the bear seemed to think himself insulted, for he instantly retreated, and when Meetuck emerged and laid hold of a gun he had disappeared.They found, on issuing into the open air, that a stiff breeze was blowing, which, from the threatening appearance of the sky, promised to become a gale; but as there was no apprehension to be entertained in regard to the stability of the floe, they returned to the hut, taking care to carry in their arms along with them. Having patched up the hole, closed the doors, rekindled the lamp, and crept into their respective bags, they went to sleep, for, however much they might dread the return of Bruin, slumber was a necessity of nature that would not be denied.Meanwhile the gale freshened into a hurricane, and was accompanied with heavy snow, and when they attempted to move next morning they found it impossible to face it for a single moment. There was no alternative, therefore, but to await the termination of the gale, which lasted two days, and kept them close prisoners all the time. It was very wearisome, doubtless, but they had to submit, and sought to console themselves and pass the time as pleasantly as possible by sleeping, and eating, and drinking coffee.
“Now then,” cried Fred, as they drew up on a level portion of the ice-floe, where the snow on its surface was so hard that the runners of the sledge scarce made an impression on it, “let us to work, lads, and get the tarpaulins spread; we shall have to sleep to-night under star-spangled bed-curtains.”
“Troth,” said O’Riley, gazing round towards the land, where the distant cliffs loomed black and heavy in the fading light, and out upon the floes and hummocks, where the frost smoke from pools of open water on the horizon circled round the pinnacles of the icebergs,—“troth, it’s a cowld place intirely to go to wan’s bed in, but that fat-faced Exqueemaw seems to be settin’ about it quite coolly; so here goes!”
“It would be difficult to set about it otherwise than coolly with the thermometer thirty-five below zero,” remarked Fred, beating his hands together, and stamping his feet, while the breath issued from his mouth like dense clouds of steam, and fringed the edges of his hood and the breast of his jumper with hoar-frost.
“It’s quite purty, it is,” remarked O’Riley, in reference to this wreath of hoar-frost, which covered the upper parts of each of them; “it’s jist like the ermine that kings and queens wear, so I’m towld, and it’s chaper a long way.”
“I don’t know that,” said Joseph West. “It has cost us a rough voyage and a winter in the Arctic regions, if it doesn’t cost us more yet, to put that ermine fringe on our jumpers. I can make nothing of this knot; try what you can do with it, messmate, will you?”
“Sorra wan o’ me ’ll try it,” cried O’Riley, suddenly leaping up and swinging both arms violently against his shoulders; “I’ve got two hands, I have, but niver a finger on them—leastwise I feel none, though itissome small degrae o’ comfort to see them.”
“My toes are much in the same condition,” said West, stamping vigorously until he brought back the circulation.
“Dance, then, wid me,” cried the Irishman, suiting his action to the word. “I’ve a mortial fear o’ bein’ bit wid the frost for it’s no joke, let me tell you. Didn’t I see a whole ship’s crew wance that wos wrecked in the Gulf o’ Saint Lawrence about the beginnin’ o’ winter, and before they got to a part o’ the coast where there was a house belongin’ to the fur-traders, ivery man-jack o’ them was frost-bit more or less, they wor. Wan lost a thumb, and another the jint of a finger or two, and most o’ them had two or three toes off, an’ there wos wan poor fellow who lost the front half o’ wan fut, an’ the heel o’ the other, an’ two inches o’ the bone was stickin’ out. Sure, it’s truth I’m tellin’ ye, for I seed it wid me own two eyes, I did.”
The earnest tones in which the last words were spoken convinced his comrades that O’Riley was telling the truth, so, having a decided objection to be placed in similar circumstances, they danced and beat each other until they were quite in a glow.
“Why, what are you at there, Meetuck?” exclaimed Fred, pausing.
“Igloe, make,” replied the Esquimaux.
“Ig— what?” enquired O’Riley.
“Oh, I see!” shouted Fred, “he’s going to make a snow-hut,—igloes they call them here. Capital!—I never thought of that! Come along; let’s help him!”
Meetuck was indeed about to erect one of those curious dwellings of snow in which, for the greater part of the year, his primitive countrymen dwell. He had no taste for star-spangled bed-curtains, when solid walls, whiter than the purest dimity, were to be had for nothing. His first operation in the erection of this hut was to mark out a circle of about seven feet diameter. From the inside of this circle the snow was cut by means of a long knife in the form of slabs nearly a foot thick, and from two to three feet long, having a slight convexity on the outside. These slabs were then so cut and arranged that, when they were piled upon each other round the margin of the circle, they formed a dome-shaped structure like a bee-hive, which was six feet high inside, and remarkably solid. The slabs were cemented together with loose snow, and every accidental chink or crevice filled up with the same material. The natives sometimes insert a block of clear ice in the roof for a window, but this was dispensed with on the present occasion—firstly, because there was no light to let in; and, secondly, because if there had been, they didn’t want it.
The building of the hut occupied only an hour, for the hunters were cold and hungry, and in their case the old proverb might have been paraphrased: “Nowork, no supper.” A hole, just large enough to permit a man to creep through on his hands and knees, formed the door of this bee-hive. Attached to this hole, and cemented to it, was a low tunnel of about four feet in length. When finished, both ends of the tunnel were closed up with slabs of hard snow, which served the purpose of double doors, and effectually kept out the cold.
While this tunnel was approaching completion, Fred retired to a short distance, and sat down to rest a few minutes on a block of ice.
A great change had come over the scene during the time they were at work on the snow-hut. The night had settled down, and now the whole sky was lit up with the vivid and beautiful coruscations of the Aurora Borealis—that magnificent meteor of the north which, in some measure, makes up to the inhabitants for the absence of the sun. It spread over the whole extent of the sky in the form of an irregular arch, and was intensely brilliant. But the brilliancy varied, as the green ethereal fire waved mysteriously to and fro, or shot up long streamers toward the zenith. These streamers, or “merry dancers” as they are sometimes termed, were at times peculiarly bright. Their colour was most frequently yellowish white, sometimes greenish, and once or twice of a lilac tinge. The strength of the light was something greater than that of the moon in her quarter, and the stars were dimmed when the Aurora passed over them as if they had been covered with a delicate gauze veil.
But that which struck our hero as being most remarkable was the magnitude and dazzling brightness of the host of stars that covered the black firmament. It seemed as if they were magnified in glory, and twinkled so much that the sky seemed, as it were, to tremble with light. A feeling of deep solemnity filled Fred’s heart as he gazed upwards; and as he thought upon the Creator of these mysterious worlds—and remembered that He came to this little planet of ours to work out the miracle of our redemption, the words that he had often read in the Bible: “Lord, what is man that thou art mindful of him?” came forcibly to his remembrance, and he felt the appropriateness of that sentiment which the sweet singer of Israel has expressed in the words: “Praise ye him, sun and moon; praise him, all ye stars of light.”
There was a deep, solemn stillness all around—a stillness widely different from that peaceful composure which characterises a calm day in an inhabited land. It was the death-like stillness of that most peculiar and dreary desolation which results from the total absence of animal existence. The silence was so oppressive that it was with a feeling of relief he listened to the low, distant voices of the men as they paused ever and anon in their busy task to note and remark on the progress of their work. In the intense cold of an Arctic night the sound of voices can be heard at a much greater distance than usual, and although the men were far off, and hummocks of ice intervened between them and Fred, their tones broke distinctly, though gently, on his ear. Yet these sounds did not interrupt the unusual stillness. They served rather to impress him more forcibly with the vastness of that tremendous solitude in the midst of which he stood.
Gradually his thoughts turned homeward, and he thought of the dear ones who circled round his own fireside, and, perchance, talked of him; of the various companions he had left behind, and the scenes of life and beauty where he used to wander; but such memories led him irresistibly to the far north again, for in all home-scenes the figure of his father started up, and he was back again in an instant, searching toilsomely among the floes and icebergs of the Polar Seas. Itwasthe invariable ending of poor Fred’s meditations, and, however successful he might be in entering, for a time, into the spirit of fun that characterised most of the doings of his shipmates, and in following the bent of his own joyous nature, in the hours of solitude, and in the dark night, when no one saw him, his mind ever reverted to the one engrossing subject, like the oscillating needle to the pole.
As he continued to gaze up, long and earnestly, into the starry sky, his thoughts began to wander over the past and the present at random, and a cold shudder warned him that it was time to return to the hut; but the wandering thoughts and fancies seemed to chain him to the spot, so that he could not tear himself away. Then a dreamy feeling of rest and comfort began to steal over his senses, and he thought how pleasant it would be to lie down and slumber; but he knew that would be dangerous, so he determined not to do it.
Suddenly he felt himself touched, and heard a voice whispering in his ear. Then it sounded loud. “Hallo, sir! Mr Ellice! Wake up, sir, d’ye hear me?” and he felt himself shaken so violently that his teeth rattled together. Opening his eyes reluctantly, he found that he was stretched at full length on the snow, and Joseph West was shaking him by the shoulder as if he meant to dislocate his arm.
“Hallo, West! is that you? Let me alone, man, I want to sleep.” Fred sank down again instantly—that deadly sleep, produced by cold, and from which those who indulge in it never awaken, was upon him.
“Sleep!” cried West frantically, “you’ll die, sir, if you don’t rouse up. Hallo! Meetuck! O’Riley! help here!”
“I tell you,” murmured Fred faintly, “I want to sleep—only a moment or two—ah! I see; is the hut finished? Well, well, go, leave me. I’ll follow—in—a—”
His voice died away again, just as Meetuck and O’Riley came running up. The instant the former saw how matters stood, he raised Fred in his powerful arms, set him on his feet, and shook him with such vigour that it seemed as if every bone in his body must be forced out of joint.
“What mane ye by that, ye blubber-bag?” cried the Irishman wrathfully, doubling his mittened fists and advancing in a threatening manner towards the Esquimaux; but, seeing that the savage paid not the least attention to him, and kept on shaking Fred violently with a good-humoured smile on his countenance, he wisely desisted from interfering.
In a few minutes Fred was able to stand and look about him with a stupid expression, and immediately the Esquimaux dragged, and pushed, and shook him along towards the snow-hut, into which he was finally thrust, though with some trouble, in consequence of the lowness of the tunnel. Here, by means of rubbing and chafing, with a little more buffeting, he was restored to some degree of heat; on seeing which Meetuck uttered a quiet grunt, and immediately set about preparing supper.
“I do believe I’ve been asleep,” said Fred, rising and stretching himself vigorously as the bright flame of a tin lamp shot forth and shed a yellow lustre on the white walls.
“Aslape is it! be me conscience an’ ye have just. Oh then, may I never indulge in the same sort o’ slumber!”
“Why so?” asked Fred in some surprise.
“You fell asleep on the ice, sir,” answered West, while he busied himself in spreading the tarpaulin and blanket-bags on the floor of the hut, “and you were very near frozen to death.”
“Frozen, musha! I’m not too shure that he’s melted yit!” said O’Riley, taking him by the arm and looking at him dubiously.
Fred laughed. “Oh yes; I’m melted now! But let’s have supper, else I shall faint for hunger. Did I sleep many hours?”
“You slept only five minutes,” said West, in some surprise at the question. “You were only gone about ten minutes altogether.”
This was indeed the case. The intense desire for sleep which is produced in Arctic countries when the frost seizes hold of the frame soon confuses the faculties of those who come under its influence. As long as Fred had continued to walk and work, he felt quite warm, but the instant he sat down on the lump of ice to rest, the frost acted on him. Being much exhausted, too, by labour and long fasting, he was more susceptible than he would otherwise have been to the influence of cold, so that it chilled him at once, and produced that deadly lethargy from which, but for the timely aid of his companions, he would never have recovered.
The arrangements for supping and spending the night made rapid progress, and under the influence of fire and animal heat—for the dogs were taken in beside them—the igloe became comfortably warm; yet the snow-walls did not melt, or become moist, the intense cold without being sufficient to counteract and protect them from the heat within. The fair roof, however, soon became very dingy, and the odour of melted fat rather powerful. But Arctic travellers are proof against such trifles.
The tarpaulin was spread over the floor, and a tin lamp, into which several fat portions of the walrus were put, was suspended from a stick thrust into the wall. Round this lamp the hunters circled, each seated on his blanket-bag, and each attended to the duty which devolved upon him. Meetuck held a tin kettle over the flame till the snow with which it was filled melted and became cold water, and then gradually heated until it boiled; and all the while he employed himself in masticating a lump of raw walrus flesh, much to the amusement of Fred, and to the disgust, real or pretended, of O’Riley. But the Irishman, and Fred too, and every man on board theDolphin, came at last torelishraw meat, and to long for it. The Esquimaux prefer it raw in these parts of the world (although some travellers assert that in more southern latitudes they prefer cooked meat), and with good reason, for it is much more nourishing than cooked flesh; and learned, scientific men, who have wintered in the Arctic regions, have distinctly stated that in those cold countries they found raw meat to be better for them than cooked meat, and they assure us that they at last came topreferit! We would not have our readers to begin forthwith to dispense with the art of cookery, and cast Soyer to the dogs; but we would have them henceforth refuse to accept that common opinion, and vulgar error, that Esquimaux eat their food rawbecause they are savages. They do it because nature teaches them that, under the circumstances, it is best.
The duty that devolved upon O’Riley was to roast small steaks of the walrus, in which operation he was assisted by West, while Fred undertook to get out the biscuit-bag and pewter plates, and to infuse the coffee when the water should boil. It was a strange feast in a strange place, but it proved to be a delightful one; for hunger requires not to be tempted, and is not fastidious.
“Oh, but it’s good, isn’t it?” remarked O’Riley, smacking his lips, as he swallowed a savoury morsel of the walrus and tossed the remnant—a sinewy bit—to Dumps, who sat gazing sulkily at the flame of the lamp, having gorged himself long before the bipeds began supper.
“Arrah! ye won’t take it, won’t ye? Here, Poker!”
Poker sprang forward, wagging the stump of his tail, and turned his head to one side, as if to say: “Well, what’s up? Any fun going?”
“Here, take that, old boy; Dumps is sulky.”
Poker took it at once, and a single snap caused it to vanish. He, too, had finished supper, and evidently ate the morsel to please the Irishman.
“Hand me the coffee, Meetuck,” said Fred. “The biscuit lies beside you, don’t give in so soon, man.”
“Thank you, sir, I have about done.”
“Meetuck, ye haythen, try a bit o’ the roast; do now, av it was only to plaaze me.”
Meetuck shook his head quietly, and, cutting afifteenthlump off the mass of raw walrus that lay beside him, proceeded leisurely to devour it.
“The dogs is nothin’ to him,” muttered O’Riley. “Isn’t it a curious thing, now, to think that we’re all atseaa eatin’, and drinkin’, and slaapin’—or goin’ to slaape—jist as if we wor on the land, and the great ocean away down below us there, wid whales, and seals, and walrusses, and mermaids, for what I know, a swimmin’ about jist under whare we sit, and maybe lookin’ through the ice at us this very minute. Isn’t it quare?”
“It is odd,” said Fred, laughing, “and not a very pleasant idea. However, as there is at least twelve feet of solid ice between us and the company you mention, we don’t need to care much.”
“Ov coorse not,” replied O’Riley, nodding his head approvingly as he lighted his pipe; “that’s my mind intirely, in all cases o’ danger, when ye don’t need to be afeared, ye needn’t much care. It’s a good chart to steer by, that same.”
This last remark seemed to afford so much food for thought to the company that nothing further was said by anyone until Fred rose and proposed to turn in. West had already crawled into his blanket-bag, and was stretched out like a mummy on the floor, and the sound of Meetuck’s jaws still continued as he winked sleepily over the walrus meat, when a scraping was heard outside the hut.
“Sure, it’s the foxes; I’ll go and look,” whispered O’Riley, laying down his pipe and creeping to the mouth of the tunnel.
He came back, however, faster than he went, with a look of consternation, for the first object that confronted him on looking out was the enormous head of a Polar bear. To glance round for their firearms was the first impulse, but these had unfortunately been left on the sledge outside. What was to be done? They had nothing but their clasp-knives in the igloe. In this extremity Meetuck cut a large hole in the back of the hut intending to creep out and procure one of the muskets, but the instant the opening was made the bear’s head filled it up. With a savage yell O’Riley seized the lamp and dashed the flaming fat in the creature’s face. It was a reckless deed, for it left them all in the dark, but the bear seemed to think himself insulted, for he instantly retreated, and when Meetuck emerged and laid hold of a gun he had disappeared.
They found, on issuing into the open air, that a stiff breeze was blowing, which, from the threatening appearance of the sky, promised to become a gale; but as there was no apprehension to be entertained in regard to the stability of the floe, they returned to the hut, taking care to carry in their arms along with them. Having patched up the hole, closed the doors, rekindled the lamp, and crept into their respective bags, they went to sleep, for, however much they might dread the return of Bruin, slumber was a necessity of nature that would not be denied.
Meanwhile the gale freshened into a hurricane, and was accompanied with heavy snow, and when they attempted to move next morning they found it impossible to face it for a single moment. There was no alternative, therefore, but to await the termination of the gale, which lasted two days, and kept them close prisoners all the time. It was very wearisome, doubtless, but they had to submit, and sought to console themselves and pass the time as pleasantly as possible by sleeping, and eating, and drinking coffee.