waves, and long for their graves, Looking _so weary O_! Will he _never_ have done with that weird cock-a-lo, As get to the leerie O!
Oh-h!
Dinner discussed, the fun commenced. In the first place, there weresailors' dances, and the floor was kept pretty well filled one way oranother. But certainly _the_ dances of the evening were the barber's"break-down," Rory's "Irish jig," and the doctor's "Hielan fling." Theywere _solos_, of course, and the barber was the first to take the floor;and oh! the shuffling and the double-shuffling, and the tripleing anddouble-tripleing of that wonderful hornpipe! No wonder he was cheered,and encored, and cheered again. Then came Rory, dressed in nattyknickerbockers and carrying a shillelah! nobody could say at times whichend of him was uppermost, or whether he did not just as often strike hisseemingly adamantine head with his heels as with his shillelah. Lastlycame Sandy McFlail in Highland costume, and being a countryman of myown, I must be modestly mum on the performance, only, towards the end ofthe "fling," you saw before you such a mist of waving arms and legs andplaid-ends, that you could not have been sure it was Sandy at all, andnot an octopus.
But hark! there comes a shriek from the pack, so loud that it drowns thesounds of music and merriment. Men grow suddenly serious. Again theyhear it, and there is a perceptible movement--a kind of thrill undertheir feet. It is the wail that never fails to give the firstannouncement of the breaking up of the sea of ice.
CHAPTER TWENTY FIVE.
BREAKING UP OF THE GREAT ICE PACK--IN THE NIPS--THE "CANNY SCOTIA" ONHER BEAM-ENDS--STAVING OF THE "ARRANDOON."
In the very midst of joy and pleasure in this so-called weary world, weare oftentimes very nigh to grief and pain.
See yonder Swiss village by the foot of the mountain, how peacefully itis sleeping in the moonlight; not a sound is to be heard save theoccasional crowing of a wakeful cock, or the voice of watch-dog bayingthe moon. The inhabitants have gone to bed hours and hours ago, andtheir dreams, if they dream at all, are assuredly not dreams of danger.But hark to that terrible noise far overhead. Is it thunder? Yes, thethunder of a mighty avalanche. Nearer and nearer it rolls, till itreaches the devoted village, then all is desolation and woe.
See yet another village, far away in sunny Africa; its little hutsnestle around the banyan-tree, the tall cocoa-palm, and thewide-spreading mango. They are a quiet, inoffensive race who inhabitthat village. They live south of the line, far away from treacherousSomali Indians or wild Magulla men; they never even dreamt of war orbloodshed. They certainly do not dream of it now.
"The babe lies in its mother's arms, The wife's head pillowed on the husband's breast."
Suddenly there is a shout, and when they awake--oh! horror! their hutsare all in flames, the Arab slavers are on them, and--I would not harrowyour young feelings by describing the scenes that follow.
But a ship--and this is coming nearer home--may be sailing over arippling sea, with the most pleasant of breezes filling her sails, noland in sight, and every one, fore and aft, as happy as the birds on anearly morning in summer, when all at once she rasps, and strikes--strikes on a rock, the very existence of which was never even suspectedbefore. In half an hour perhaps that vessel has gone down, and thosethat are saved are afloat in open boats, the breeze freshening everymoment, the wavetops breaking into cold spray, night coming on, anddark, threatening clouds banking up on the windward horizon.
When the first wail arose from the pack that announced the breaking upof the sea of ice, a silence of nearly a minute fell on the sailorsassembled at the entertainment. Music stopped, dancing ceased, andevery one listened. The sound was repeated, and multiplied, and theship quivered and half reeled.
McBain knew the advantage of remaining calm and retaining his presenceof mind in danger. Because he was a true sailor. He was not like thesailor captains you read of in penny dreadfuls--half coal-heaver, halfHerzegovinian bandit.
"Odd, isn't it?" he muttered, as he stroked his beard and smiled; thenin a louder voice he gave his orders.
"Men," he said, "we'll have some work to do before morning--get ready.The ice is breaking up. Pipe down, boatswain. Mr Stevenson, see tothe clearing away of all this hamper."
Then, followed by Rory and the doctor, he got away out into thedaylight.
The ships were all safe enough as yet, and there was only perceptiblethe gentlest heaving motion in the pack. Sufficient was it, however, tobreak up the bay ice between the bergs, and this with a series of loudreports, which could be heard in every direction. McBain lookedoverboard somewhat anxiously; the broken pieces of bay ice were gettingploughed up against the ship's side with a noise that is indescribable,not so much from its extreme loudness as from its peculiarity; it was astrange mixture of a hundred different noises, a wailing, complaining,shrieking, grinding noise, mingled with a series of sharp, irregularreports.
"It is like nothing earthly," said Rory, "that ever I heard before; andwhen I close my eyes for a brace of seconds, I could imagine that downon the pack there two hundred tom-cats had lain down to die, that twentyHighland bag-pipers--twenty Peters--were playing pibrochs of lament, andthat just forenenst them a squad of militia-men was firing a_feu-de-joie_, and that neither the militia-men nor the pipers eitherwere as self-contained as they should be on so solemn an occasion."
The doctor was musing; he was thinking how happy he had been half anhour ago, and now--heigho; it was just possible he would never get backto Iceland again, never see his blue-eyed Danish maiden more.
"Pleasures," he cried, "pleasures, Captain McBain--"
"Yes," said McBain, "pleasures--"
"Pleasures," continued the doctor,--
"`Are like poppies shed, You seize the flower, the bloom is fled.'
"I'll gang doon below. Bed is the best place."
"Perhaps," said McBain, smiling, "but not the safest. Mind, the ship isin the nips, and a berg might go through her at any moment. There isthe merest possibility of your being killed in your bed. That's all;but that won't keep _you_ on deck."
Mischievous Rory was doing ridiculous attitudes close behind the worthysurgeon.
"What?" cried Sandy, in his broadest accent. "_That_ not keep me ondeck! Man, the merest possibility of such a cawtawstrophy would keep meon deck for a month."
"A vera judeecious arrangement," hissed Rory in his ear, for which hewas chased round the deck, and had his own ears well pulled next minute.The doctor had him by the ear when Allan and Ralph appeared on thescene.
"Hullo!" they laughed, "Rory got in for it again."
"Whustle," cried Sandy.
"I only said `a vera--'" began Rory.
"Whustle, will ye?" cried the doctor.
"I can't `whustle,'" laughed Rory. But he had to "whustle," and then hewas free.
"It's going to be a tough squeeze," said Silas to McBain.
"Yes; and, worse luck, the swell has set in from the east," answered thecaptain.
"I'm off to the _Canny Scotia_; good morning."
"One minute, Captain Grig; we promised to hoist up Cobb's cockle-shell.Lend us a hand with your fellows, will you?"
"Ay, wi' right good will," said Silas.
There were plenty of spars on board the _Arrandoon_ big enough to rigshears, and these were sent overboard without delay, with ropes andeverything else required.
The men of the _Arrandoon_, assisted by those of the _Canny Scotia_,worked with a readiness and will worthy even of our gallant RoyalEngineers. A shears was soon rigged, and a winch got up. On a sparfastened along the cockle-shell's deck the purchase was made, and, underthe superintendence of brave little Ap, the work began.
For a long time the "shell" refused to budge, so heavily did the icepress around her; the spar on her deck started though, several times."Worse luck," thought little Ap. He had the spar re-fastened. Triedagain. The same result followed. Then little Ap considered, taking"mighty" big pinches of snuff the while.
"We won't do like that," he said to hi
mself, "because, look you see, thepurchase is too much on the perpendicular. Yes, yes."
Then he had the spar elevated a couple of yards, and fastened betweenthe masts, which he had strengthened by lashing extra spars to them.The result of this was soon apparent. The hawsers tightened, the littleyacht moved, even the pressure of the ice under her helped to lift heras soon as she began to heel over, and, in half an hour afterwards, thecockle-shell lay in a very ignominious position indeed--beam-ends on theice.
"Bravo!" cried Silas, when the men had finished their cheering. "Bravo!what _would_ long Cobb say now? what would he say? Ha! ha! ha!"
Silas Grig laughed
Wild Adventures round the Pole Page 42