Fast in the Ice Part 8

Next day all was ready. A trial was made and the thing found to work admirably. The trial trip over, they bade their comrades farewell, and away they went due south, in the direction where the native village was supposed to be.

It was this remarkable tow-horse that had filled Captain Harvey and his companions with so much surprise. The appearance of the sledge immediately after, with a shout and a cheer from Dicey and the men, explained the mystery.

Being so near the Eskimo camp they at once returned to it, in order to allow the newly arrived party to rest, as well as to load their sledge with as much fresh meat as it could carry; for which supplies the captain took care to pay the natives with a few knives and a large quant.i.ty of hoop-iron--articles that were much more valuable to them than gold. As the wind could not be made to turn about to suit their convenience, the kite was brought down and given to Davy to carry, and a team of native dogs were harnessed to the sledge instead. On the following day the united party set out on their return to the brig, which they reached in safety.

Tom Gregory's account of the Eskimos who accompanied them to their wooden home is amusing. His journal runs thus:

"The amazement of our visitors is very great. Myouk, his wife and baby, and his son Meetek, are now our guests. When they first came in sight of the brig they uttered a wild shout--the men did so, at least--and tossed their arms and opened their eyes and mouths. They have never shut them since. They go all round the vessel, staring and gaping with amazement. We have given them a number of useful presents, and intend to send them home loaded with gifts for their friends. It is necessary to make a good impression on them. Our lives depend very much on the friends.h.i.+p of these poor people. We find that they are terrible thieves. A number of knives and a hatchet were missed--they were found hidden in Myouk's sledge. We tried to prevail on Oomia to sell her long boots. To our surprise she was quite willing to part with _one_, but nothing would induce her to give up the _other_. One of the men observed her steal a knife out of the cabin and hide it in the leg of her boot. The reason was now plain. We pulled off the boot without asking leave, and found there a large a.s.sortment of articles stolen from us. Two or three knives, a spoon, a bit of hoop-iron, and a marline spike. I have tried to make them understand, by signs, that this is very wicked conduct, but they only laugh at me. They are not in the least ashamed, and evidently regard stealing as no sin.

"We have shot a musk ox. There are many of these creatures in other parts of the Arctic regions, but this is the first we have seen here.

He fell to my rifle, and is now being devoured by ourselves and our dogs with great relish. He is about the size of a very small cow; has a large head and enormously thick horns, which cover the whole top of his head, bend down toward his cheeks, and then curve up and outward at the point. He is covered with long, brown hair, which almost reaches the ground, and has no tail worthy of the name. He seems to be an active and an angry creature. When I wounded him he came at me furiously, but had not pluck to charge home. As he turned away I gave him the shot that killed him. The meat is not bad, but it smells strongly of musk.

Walrus is better.

"Myouk and his son Meetek and I have had a most exciting bear-hunt since we returned. I followed these men one day, as I thought them bold, active-looking fellows, who would be likely to show me good Eskimo sport. And I was not disappointed.

"About two miles from the brig we came on fresh bear tracks. A glow of the aurora gave us plenty of light. `What is yon round white lump?'

thought I. `A bear? No, it must be a snow-wreath!' Myouk did not think so, for he ran behind a lump of ice, and became excited. He made signs to me to remain there while he and his son should go and attack the bear. They were armed each with a long lance. I must say, when I remembered the size and strength of the polar bear, that I was surprised to find these men bold enough to attack him with such arms. I had my rifle, but determined not to use it except in case of necessity. I wished to see how the natives were accustomed to act.

"They were soon ready. Gliding swiftly from one lump of ice to another, they got near enough to make a rush. I was disobedient! I followed, and when the rush was made I was not far behind them. The bear was a very large one. It uttered an angry growl on seeing the men running toward it, and rose on its hind legs to receive them. It stood nearly eight feet high when in this position, and looked really a terrible monster. I stood still behind a hummock at a distance of about fifty yards, with my rifle ready.

"On coming close up the father and son separated, and approached the bear one on each side. This divided his attention, and puzzled him very much; for, when he made a motion as if he were going to rush at Myouk, Meetek flourished his spear, and obliged him to turn--then Myouk made a demonstration, and turned him back again. Thus they were enabled to get close to its side before it could make up its mind which to attack. But the natives soon settled the question for it. Myouk was on the bear's right side, Meetek on its left. The father p.r.i.c.ked it with the point of his lance. A tremendous roar followed, and the enraged animal turned towards him. This was just what he wanted, because it gave the son an opportunity of making a deadly thrust. Meetek was not slow to do it.

He plunged his lance deep into the bear's heart, and it fell at once at full length, while a crimson stream poured out of the wound upon the snow.

"While this fight was going on I might have shot the animal through the heart with great ease, for it was quite near to me, and when it got up on its hind legs its broad chest presented a fine target. It was difficult to resist the temptation to fire, but I wished to see the native manner of doing the thing from beginning to end, so did not interfere. I was rewarded for my self-denial.

"Half an hour later, while we were dragging the carca.s.s toward the brig, we came unexpectedly upon another bear. Myouk and Meetek at once grasped their lances and ran forward to attack him. I now resolved to play them a trick. Besides my rifle I carried a large horse-pistol in my belt. This I examined, and, finding it all right, I followed close at the heels of the Eskimos. Bruin got up on his hind legs as before, and the two men advanced close to him. I stopped when within thirty yards, c.o.c.ked my rifle, and stood ready. Myouk was just going to thrust with his lance when--_bang_! went my rifle. The bear fell. It was shot right through the heart, but it struggled for some time after that. The natives seemed inclined to run away when they heard the shot, but I laughed and made signs of friends.h.i.+p. Then I went close up and shot the bear through the head with my pistol. This affair has filled my savage companions with deep respect for me!"

These two bears were the last they obtained that winter; but as a good supply of meat had been obtained from the Eskimos, they were relieved from anxiety for the time, and the health of the men began to improve a little. But this happy state of things did not last till spring. These sorely tried men were destined to endure much suffering before the light of the sun came back to cheer their drooping spirits.

CHAPTER ELEVEN.

CHRISTMAS TIME--DEATH--RETURN OF LIGHT AND HOPE--DISASTERS AND FINAL DELIVERANCE.

Christmas came at last, but with it came no bright sun to remind those ice-bound men of our Saviour--the "Sun of Righteousness"--whose birth the day commemorated. It was even darker than usual in Refuge Harbour on that Christmas-day. It was so dark at noon that one could not see any object more than a few yards distant from the eyes. A gale of wind from the nor'-west blew the snow-drift in whirling ghost-like clouds round the _Hope_, so that it was impossible to face it for a moment. So intense was the cold that it felt like sheets of fire being driven against the face! Truly it was a day well fitted to have depressed the heartiest of men. But man is a wonderful creature, not easy to comprehend! The very things that ought to have cast down the spirits of the men of the _Hope_ were the things that helped to cheer them.

About this time, as I have said, the health of the crew had improved a little, so they were prepared to make the most of everything. Those feelings of kindliness and good-will which warm the b.r.e.a.s.t.s of all right-minded men at this season of the year, filled our Arctic voyagers to overflowing. Thoughts of "home" came crowding on them with a power that they had not felt at other times. Each man knew that on this day, more than any other day of that long, dark winter, the talk round a well-known hearth in Merry England would be of one who was far, far away in the dark regions of ice and snow. A tear or two that could not be forced back tumbled over rough cheeks which were not used to _that_ kind of salt water; and many a silent prayer went up to call down a blessing on the heads of dear ones at home.

It blew "great guns outside," as Baker said, but what of that? it was a dead calm in the cabin! It was dark as a coal-hole on the floes. What then? it was bright as noon-day in the _Hope_! No sun blazed through the skylight, to be sure, but a lamp, filled with fat, glared on the table, and a great fire of coal glowed in the stove. Both of these together did not make the place too warm, but there were fur-coats and trousers and boots to help defy the cold. The men were few in number and not likely to see many friends on that Christmas-day. All the more reason why they should make the most of each other! Besides, they were wrong in their last idea about friends, for it chanced, on that very day, that Myouk the Eskimo paid them a visit--quite ignorant of its being Christmas, of course. Meetek was with him, and so was Oomia, and so was the baby--that remarkably fat, oily, naked baby, that seemed rather to enjoy the cold than otherwise!

They had a plum-pudding that day. b.u.t.ts said it was almost as big as the head of a walrus. They had also a roast of beef--walrus-beef, of course--and first-rate it was. But before dinner the captain made them go through their usual morning work of cleaning, airing, making beds, posting journals, noting temperatures, opening the fire-hole, and redding up. For the captain was a great believer in the value of discipline. He knew that no man enjoys himself so much as he who has got through his work early--who has done his duty. It did not take them long, and when it was done the captain said, "Now, boys, we must be jolly to-day. As we can't get out we must take some exercise indoors.

We shall need extra appet.i.te to make away with that plum-pudding."

So, at it they went! Every sort of game or feat of strength known to sailors was played, or attempted. It was in the middle of all this that Myouk and his family arrived, so they were compelled to join. Even the fat baby was put into a blanket and swung round the cabin by Jim Croft, to the horror of its mother, who seemed to think it would be killed, and to the delight of its father, who didn't seem to care whether it was killed or not.

Then came the dinner. What a scene that was, to be sure! It would take a whole book to describe all that was said and done that day. The Eskimos ate till they could hardly stand--that was their usual custom.

Then they lay down and went to sleep--that was their usual custom, too.

The rest ate as heartily, poor fellows, as was possible for men not yet quite recovered from scurvy. They had no wine, but they had excellent coffee, and with this they drank to absent friends, sweethearts, and wives, and many other toasts, the mere mention of which raised such strong home-feelings in their b.r.e.a.s.t.s that some of them almost choked in the attempt to cheer. Then came songs and stories--all of them old, very old indeed--but they came out on this occasion as good as new. The great event of the evening, however, was a fancy ball, in which our friends b.u.t.ts, Baker, Gregory, and Pepper distinguished themselves.

They had a fiddle, and Dawkins the steward could play it. He knew nothing but Scotch reels; but what could have been better? They could all dance, or, if they could not, they all tried. Myouk and Meetek were made to join and they capered as gracefully as polar bears, which animals they strongly resembled in their hairy garments. Late in the evening came supper. It was just a repet.i.tion of dinner, with the remains of the pudding fried in bear's grease.

Thus pa.s.sed Christmas-Day; much in the same way pa.s.sed New Year's Day.

Then the men settled down to their old style of life; but the time hung so heavy on their hands that their spirits began to sink again. The long darkness became intolerable and the fresh meat began to fail.

Everything with life seemed to have forsaken the place. The captain made another trip to the Eskimo village and found the huts empty--the whole race had flown, he knew not whither! The private theatricals were at first very successful; but by degrees they lost their interest and were given up. Then a school was started and Gregory became head master. Writing and arithmetic were the only branches taught. Some of the men were much in need of instruction, and all of them took to the school with energy and much delight. It lasted longer than the theatricals did. As time wore on the fresh meat was finished, scurvy became worse; and it was as much as the men who were not quite knocked down could do to attend to those who were. Day after day Tom and Gregory and Sam Baker went out to hunt, and each day returned empty-handed. Sometimes an Arctic hare or a fox was got; but not often.

At last rats were eaten as food. These creatures swarmed in the hold of the brig. They were caught in traps and shot with a bow and a blunt-headed arrow. But few of the men would eat them. The captain urged them to do so in vain. Those who did eat kept in better health than those who did not.

At last death came. Mr Mansell sank beneath the terrible disease and was buried on the island. No grave could be dug in that hard frozen soil. The burial service was read by his sorrowing comrades over his body, which was frozen quite hard before they reached the grave, and then they laid it in a tomb of ice.

Time hung heavier than ever after that. Death is at all time a terrible visitant, but in such a place and under such circ.u.mstances it was tenfold more awful than usual. The blank in so small a band was a great one. It would perhaps have depressed them more than it did had their own situation been less desperate. But they had too fierce a battle to fight with disease, and the midnight gloom, and the bitter frost, to give way to much feeling about him who was gone.

Thus the long winter pa.s.sed heavily away.

The sun came back at last, and when he came his beams shone upon a pale, shattered, and heart-weary band of men. But with his cheering light came also _hope_, and health soon followed in his train. Let young Gregory's journal tell the rest of our story, little of which now remains to be told.

"_February 21st_.--I have to record, with joy and grat.i.tude, that the sun shone on the peaks of the ice-bergs to-day. The first time it has done so since October last. By the end of this month we shall have his rays on deck. I climbed to the top of a berg and actually bathed in suns.h.i.+ne this forenoon! We are all quite excited by the event, some of us even look jolly. Ah! what miserable faces my comrades have! so pale, so thin! We are all as weak as water. The captain and I are the strongest. Baker is also pretty well. Crofts and Davis are almost useless, the rest being quite helpless. The captain cooks, Baker and I hunt, Crofts and Davis attend to the sick. Another month of darkness would have killed the half of us.

"_March 10th_.--I shot a bear to-day. It did my heart good to see the faces of the men when I brought them the news and a piece of the fles.h.!.+

The cold is not quite so intense now. Our coldest day this year has been the 17th of January. The gla.s.s stood at 67 degrees below zero on that morning. What a winter we have had! I shudder when I think of it.

But there is more cause to be anxious about what yet lies before us. A single bear will not last long. Many weeks must pa.s.s before we are free. In June we hope to be released from our ice-prison. Fresh meat we shall then have in abundance. With it strength will return, and then, if G.o.d permits, we shall attempt to continue our voyage northward.

The captain is confident on the point of open water round the Pole.

The men are game for anything in spite of their sad condition."

Thus wrote Gregory at that date. Many weeks later we find him writing as follows:

"_June 15th_.--Free at last! The ice has been breaking up out at sea for some time past. It gave way in Refuge Harbour yesterday, and we warped out in the night. Everything is ready to push north again. We have been feeding heartily for many weeks on walrus, seals, wild-fowl, and last, but not least, on some gra.s.ses which make bad greens, but they have put scurvy to flight. All the men are well and strong and fit for hard work--though nothing like what they were when we first came here.

Could it be otherwise? There are some of us who will carry the marks of this winter to our graves. The bright beautiful suns.h.i.+ne s.h.i.+nes now, all day and all night, cheering our hearts and inspiring hope.

"_June 16th_.--All is lost! How little we know what a day may bring forth! Our good little brig is gone, and we are here on the ice without a thing in the world except the clothes on our backs. I have saved my note-book, which chanced to be in my breast-pocket when the nip took place. How awfully sudden it was! We now appreciate the wise forethought of Captain Harvey in sending the large boat to Forlorn-Hope Bay. This boat is our last and only hope. We shall have to walk forty miles before we reach it.

"Our brig went down at three o'clock this afternoon. We had warped out into the floes to catch a light breeze that was blowing outside. For some time we held on steadily to the northward, but had not got out of sight of our winter quarters when a stream of ice set down upon us and closed in all around. At first we thought nothing of this, having escaped so many dangers of the kind last autumn, but by degrees the pressure increased alarmingly. We were jammed against a great ice-field which was still fast to the sh.o.r.e. In a few moments the sides of our little vessel began to creak and groan loudly. The men laboured like tigers at the ice-poles, but in vain. We heard a loud report in the cabin. No one knows what it was, but I suppose it must have been the breaking of a large bolt. At any rate it was followed by a series of crashes and reports that left no doubt in our minds as to what was going on. The ice was cracking the brig as if she had been a nut-sh.e.l.l.

`Save yourselves, lads!' cried the captain. One or two of the men made a rush to the hatchway, intending to run below and save some of their things. I ran to the cabin-ladder in the hope of saving our log-book and journals, but we all started back in horror, for the deck at that moment burst open almost under our feet. I cast one glance down through the opening into the hold. That glance was sufficient. The ma.s.sive timbers and beams were being crushed together, doubled up, split, and s.h.i.+vered, as if they had been rotten straws! In another moment I was on the ice, where the whole crew were a.s.sembled, looking on at the work of destruction in solemn silence.

"After bursting in the vessel's sides the ice eased off, and she at once began to settle down. We could hear the water rus.h.i.+ng furiously into the hold. Ten minutes later she was gone! Thus end our hopes of farther discovery, and we are now left to fight our way in an open boat to the settlements on the south coast of Greenland. We have little time to think. Prompt action must be our watchword now, if we would escape from this world of ice.

"_July 20th_.--I have not entered a line in this journal since our vessel was lost. Our work has been so severe, and our sufferings so great, that I have had no heart for writing. Our walk to the place where we left the boat was a hard one, but we were cheered by finding the boat all safe, and the provisions and stores just as we left them.

There was not enough to last out the voyage, but we had guns and powder.

It is in vain to attempt to describe the events of the last few weeks.

Constant, and hard, and cold work--at the oars, with the ice-poles-- warping, hauling, and shoving. Beset by ice; driving before storms; detained by thick fogs; often wet to the skin; always tired, almost starving--such has been our fate since that sad day when our brig went down. And yet I don't think there is one of our party who would not turn about on the spot and renew our voyage of discovery, if he only got a chance of going in a well-appointed vessel. As it is, we must push on. Home! home! is our cry now.

"_August 1st_.--We are now in clover, after having been reduced to think of roasting our shoes for breakfast. For three days last week we ate nothing at all. Our powder has been expended for some weeks past. On Monday we finished our last morsel of the gull that Pepper managed to bring down with a stone. Tuesday was a terrible day. The agony of hunger was worse than I had expected it to be. Nevertheless, we tried hard to cheer each other as we laboured at the oars. Our only hope was to fall in with natives. Signs of them were seen everywhere, and we expected to hear their shouts at every point of land we doubled. The captain suggested that we should try _shoe-soup_ on Wednesday morning!

He was more than half in earnest, but spoke as if he were jesting.

Pepper c.o.c.ked his ears as if there was some hope still of work for him to do in his own line. Jim Crofts pulled off his shoe, and, looking at it earnestly, wondered if the sole would make a very tough chop. We all laughed, but I cannot say that the laugh sounded hearty. On the Thursday I began to feel weak, but the pangs of hunger were not so bad.

Our eyes seemed very large and wolfish. I could not help shuddering when I thought of the terrible things that men have done when reduced to this state.

"That evening, as we rounded a point, we saw an Eskimo boy high on a cliff, with a net in his hand. He did not see us for some time, and we were so excited that we stopped rowing to watch him in breathless silence. Thousands of birds were flying round his head among the cliffs. How often we had tried to kill some of these with sticks and stones, in vain! The net he held was a round one, with a long handle.

Suddenly he made a das.h.i.+ng sweep with it and caught two of the birds as they pa.s.sed! We now saw that a number of dead birds lay at his feet.

In one moment our boat was ash.o.r.e and we scrambled up the cliffs in eager haste. The boy fled in terror, but before he was well out of sight every man was seated on a ledge of rock with a bird at his mouth, sucking the blood! Hunger like ours despises cookery! It was fortunate that there were not many birds, else we should have done ourselves harm by eating too much. I have eaten many a good meal in my life, but never one so sweet, or for which I was so thankful, as that meal of raw birds, devoured on the cliffs of Greenland!

"That night we reached the Eskimo village, where we now lie. We find that it is only two days' journey from this place to the Danish settlements. There we mean to get on board the first s.h.i.+p that is bound for Europe--no matter what port she sails for. Meanwhile we rest our weary limbs in peace, for our dangers are past, and--thanks be to G.o.d-- we are saved."