Harry Milvaine Part 18

He sat in the nest till the captain had finished. Sat delightedly too, for the sea-scape, visible all around, was splendid, and he had a feeling that he was flying in the air with no s.h.i.+p beneath him whatever, as happy and free as the wild sea-birds that were whirling and screaming around him in the sky. The lovely sea-gulls, the malleys, the dusky skuas, and the snow-white sea-swallows--they charmed Harry beyond measure.

But a fierce gale of wind blew from the north-east, and lying to, the _Inuita_ was drifted away off from the ice and far, far out of her course.

This gale continued for ten days off and on. Boats were smashed, a top-mast carried away, the bulwarks were splintered, and two poor fellows were washed overboard.

Their cries for a.s.sistance--the a.s.sistance that none could render them-- were heart-rending. They were both strong swimmers, which only made the bitterness of death ten times more bitter.

But the sky cleared at last, the wind blew fair, and in ten days more they had sighted the main pack of ice lying to the north and east of the lonely island of Jan Mayen. Named after its discoverer--rugged, rocky, and snowy--it rises boldly from the frozen sea, and after forming a number of smaller hills, or rather mountains, shoots abruptly into the clear icy sky to a height of 6,000 feet, shaped like a cone or an immense loaf of sugar. Although volcanic fires once have gleamed from the lofty summit of this mountain, old King Winter now sits here alone, Vulcan has deserted him, without leaving him a spark to heat his toes.

This is indeed the throne of King Winter, and looking down, his cold eye scans his icy region, stretching for many and many a mile over the Greenland sea. On this isle of desolation few have ever trod, and the few who have visited it have no desire to return. Around its crags flutters the snow-bird, and the ice-bear crouches in his den among its rocks; the great black seal, the sea-horse, and the lonely walrus float around it, or find shelter near it from the storm or tempest; but nothing else of life is ever found on its deserted and inhospitable sh.o.r.es.

Seals were seen on the ice the very next day, and the work of destruction commenced. It was a sickening scene. So thought young Harry.

Many years ago the present writer described it in the following language:

Great is the cruelty practised during young sealing. Seldom do the men take time to kill the creatures they catch, but set about flaying them alive, and a young seal is so much more pretty and innocent-looking than even a lamb. This they say they do to save time, but could they not kill so many seals first, say a thousand, and then commence to flay those first struck, which would then be quite dead? As an experiment, I have seen the flayed body, red and quivering, thrown into the sea, and seen it swim with its own mother beside it. This is no exaggeration, and any sealer will tell you the same. It is strange why the sight of blood should stimulate men to acts of cruelty; but it is none the less a fact, for I have seen men on these occasions behaving with all the brutality of wild beasts.

One could not easily fancy a scene more impressive and wild than that which is presented by the crews of a few s.h.i.+ps at work on the ice. The incessant moaning of the innocent victims, mingled with the laugh and joke of their murderers; the timid and affrighted, although loving look of the mothers, so different from the earnest, blood-thirsty stare of the authors of their grief. Some are flaying; some are stabbing; some are dragging the fruits of their labour towards the s.h.i.+ps; and some are drinking at the s.h.i.+p's side; but over all there is blood--blood on the decks, blood on the bulwarks; the men's hands are steeped in it, and the blood is dripping from their clothes. The snow--the beautiful snow, which but yesterday sparkled and glittered in the suns.h.i.+ne, as only the snows of Greenland can, to-day is deluged in blood. Nothing but blood, blood wherever we look! The meat which the men are eating and the gla.s.s from which they are drinking are b.l.o.o.d.y; and the very rudder-wheel has been touched by b.l.o.o.d.y hands. But then there is joy in that b.l.o.o.d.y scene--joy to master and joy to man; and the sight of the blood proves a stimulant for still greater exertions and more cruelty.

Yes, it is years since I wrote in this strain, but the cruelties go on now as then. Oh! boys of happy England, raise your voices whenever opportunity occurs against cruelty and against oppression of every kind, whether against the tyranny that crushes the poor that the rich may live luxuriously, or cowardly crime that ties a helpless dog or cat to the vivisection table.

Harry managed to endear himself to all hands. He was, indeed, the favourite of the s.h.i.+p. But he did not neglect his education; Mr Wilson was a good teacher of practical navigation and practical s.h.i.+p's work, and in a month or two he had made a man of Harry, or a sailor at all events.

Captain Hardy soon found out that the boy could shoot, so he gave him a short, light double-barrelled rifle, and Harry used to go out regularly to stalk seals, when the old sealing commenced. Dangerous work at times, and our hero had more than one ducking by slipping into the sea between the icebergs.

The dog Harold always went with the boy Harry, and although mastiffs are not called water-dogs, still on one occasion, when his young master fell into the sea, dog Harold sprang after him, and supported him until a.s.sistance came.

Harry's opportunity of proving his grat.i.tude came soon after this.

While out walking one day with the dog, they were suddenly startled by the awful roar of a huge bear. The brute appeared immediately after from behind a hummock of ice, and prepared for instant action.

The great mastiff's hair stood on end with rage, from skull to tail. He gave Bruin no time to think, but sprang at once for his throat.

It was indeed an unequal contest, and would speedily have been all over had not young Harry shown both pluck and presence of mind. He rushed forward, and, biding his chance, fired both barrels of his rifle at once into the bear's neck behind the ear.

He actually clapped the muzzle there before he drew the triggers.

What mattered it that the recoil threw him on his back, Bruin was slain, and Harold the dog was saved, though sadly wounded and torn.

Before the month of May the _Inuita_ had a good voyage on board. She continued, however, to follow the old seals north as far round as Spitzbergen. The character of the ice now entirely changed: instead of fields of flat floe, with hummocks here and there, which put Harry in mind, as he traversed them, of a Highland moorland in mid-winter, there were pieces large enough to have crushed a s.h.i.+p as big as Saint Paul's Cathedral.

The mountains, too, on the islands among which the _Inuita_ sailed were rugged and grand in the extreme, and the colours displayed from the terraced cliffs of ice and rock, when the sun shone on them, were more resplendent than any pen or pencil could describe.

Around these islands were walruses in abundance, and many fell to the guns.

Going sh.o.r.eward one day over the thick bay ice, to enjoy with Mr Wilson and some others some sport among the bears, Harry, who was foremost, was startled beyond measure to notice the ice ahead first heave, then crack and splinter, while a moment afterwards a head, more awful than a nightmare, was protruded.

Harry's fear--if fear it could be called--was however but momentarily: next moment his rifle was at the shoulder, and the monster paid his life as the penalty for his curiosity.

In a month the _Inuita_ was--what her captain wished her to be--full to the hatches with blubber and skins.

Then all sail was set for merry England.

There was nothing but joy now on board, nothing but jollity and fun.

The men had a ball almost every night, with singing and story-telling to follow.

"I do believe, my dear boy," said Captain Hardy to Harry one evening, "that _you_ have brought all the luck on board. Well, now, I'm going to tell you a secret."

"I don't want you to, you know."

"Oh, but I want to tell somebody," said the captain, "and it may as well be you. It is this: As soon as I get my s.h.i.+p cleared and paid off at Hull, I am going straight back to Lerwick to ask Miss Mitford if she will be my wife."

"Oh, I'm sure she will be glad to!" Harry said.

"Tell me, boy, what makes you think so?"

"Well, because she told me you were the best man in the service, and the tears were in her eyes when she said so."

"G.o.d bless you for these words, dear lad. And you'll come and see us sometimes, won't you? I'm going to leave the sea and settle down in a pretty little farm near Hull."

"That I will, gladly," said Harry.

In course of time the s.h.i.+p arrived safely in harbour. Her owners were delighted at Captain Hardy's success, and made him a very handsome present.

Some weeks after this, when the _Inuita_ was dismantled and lying in dock, Hardy, with Harry and Harold the mastiff, suddenly appeared at Beaufort Hall.

I leave the reader to imagine the joy that their presence elicited. But it was quite affecting to see how his mother pressed her boy to her breast, while the tears chased each other over her cheeks.

Eily went wild with joy, and when honest Andrew met his friend Harry again, and shook him by the hand, he could not speak, so much was he affected, and he had to take five or six enormous pinches of snuff by way of accounting for the moisture in his eyes.

Captain Hardy was a welcome guest at Beaufort Hall for many days.

"Your dear boy," he said, "has had a terribly rough first experience of a life on the ocean wave, but he has braved it well, and that is more than many boys of his age would have done. But I tell you what it is,"

he added, "Harry Milvaine _will_ be a sailor."

"I fear so," said his mother, sadly.

"Ah, my dear lady, there is many a worse profession than that of an honest sailor."

"But the dangers of the deep are so great, Captain Hardy."

"Dangers of the deep?" repeated this kindly-hearted sailor. "Ay, and there are dangers on the dry land as well. Think of your terrible railway smashes, to say nothing, madam, of the tiles and chimney-pots that go flying about on a stormy day."

Mrs Milvaine could not keep from smiling.

But our wilful, wayward Harry had it all his own way, and three months after this he was treading the decks of a Royal Navy training s.h.i.+p, a bold and brisk-looking naval cadet.