LASTACT--SICKNESS--DEATH--DESPAIR.
The summer was far advanced before Captain McBain and his crew returnedto where their vessel lay off the island of Alba. They had fullyexpected to see some signs of the ice breaking up, so as to allow themto get clear and bear up for home, but the chance of this taking placeseemed as far off as ever. If the truth must be told, the captain hadcounted upon a break-up of the sea of ice shortly after midsummer at thevery latest. But midsummer went past, the sun each midnight began todecline nearer and nearer to the northern horizon, and it already seemedsadly probable that another winter would have to be passed in thesedesolate regions. McBain could not help recalling the words of oldMagnus, "Open seasons do not come oftener than once in ten years." Ifthis indeed were true, then he, his boys and his crew, were doomed tosufferings more terrible than tongue could tell or pen relate--sufferings from which there could be no escape save through the jaws ofdeath. Provisions would hardly last throughout another winter, anduntil the ice broke up and they were again free, there could be nochance of getting those that had been stored on the northernmost isle ofSpitzbergen.
The sky remained clear and hard, and McBain soon began to think he wouldgive all he possessed in life for the sight of one little cloud notbigger than a man's hand. But that cloud never came, and the suncommenced to set and the summer waned away. The captain kept his sorrowvery much to himself; at all events he tried to talk cheerfully andhopefully when in the company of any of our young heroes; but they couldmark a change, and well they knew the cause.
The ice-hole was opened, but, strange to say, although they capturedsharks and other great fish innumerable, neither seal nor walrus evershowed head above the water.
Bears were pretty numerous on the ice, and now McBain gave orders topreserve not only the skins but even the flesh of those monsters. Itwas cut in pieces and buried in the ice and snow, well up the braelandnear to the mouth of the cave, in which they had found shelter duringall the dark months of the former winter.
The fact that no seals appeared at the ice-hole proved beyond a doubtthat the open water was very far indeed to the southward of them.
How they had rejoiced to see the sun rise for the first time in theprevious spring; how their hearts sank now to see him set!
"Boys," said McBain one day, after he had remained silent for some time,as if in deep thought--"boys, I fear we won't get out of this place formany months to come. How do you like the prospect?"
He smiled as he spoke; but they could see the smile was a simulated one.
"Never mind," said Ralph and Allan; "we'll keep our hearts up, neverfear; don't you be unhappy on our account."
"I'll try not to be," said McBain, "and I'm sure I shall not be so on myown."
"Besides, captain dear," added Rory, "it's sure to come right in theend."
McBain laid his hand on boy Rory's head, and smiled somewhat sadly.
"You're always hopeful, Rory," he said. "We must pray that your wordsmay come true."
And, indeed, besides waiting with a hopeful trust in that all-seeingProvidence who had never yet deserted them in their direst need, therewas little now to be done.
As the days got shorter and shorter, and escape from another winter'simprisonment seemed impossible, the crew of the _Arrandoon_ was set towork overhauling stores. It was found that with strict economy theprovisions would last until spring, but, with the addition of the fleshof sharks and bears, for a month or two longer. It was determined,therefore, that the men should not be put upon short allowance, forsemi-starvation--McBain was doctor enough to know--only opened the doorfor disease to step in, in the shape perhaps of that scourge calledscurvy, or even the black death itself.
When the sun at last sank to rise no more for three long months, so farfrom letting down their hearts, or losing hope, the officers and crew ofour gallant ship once more settled down to their "old winter ways," asSeth called them. They betook themselves to the cave in the hillside,which, for sake of giving the men exercise, McBain had made double thesize, the mould taken therefrom and the rocks being used to erect aterrace near the entrance. This was surrounded by a balustrade orbulwark, with a flagstaff erected at one end, and on this was unfurledthe Union Jack. Watches were kept, and meals cooked and served, with asmuch regularity as if they had been at sea, while the evenings weredevoted to reading, music, and story-telling round the many great firesthat were lighted to keep the cave warm.
Where, it may be asked, did the fuel come from? Certainly not from theship. The coals were most carefully stored, and retained for futureservice; but tons on tons of great pine-logs were dug from thehill-sides. And glorious fires they made, too. It was, as Rory said,raking up the ashes of a long-past age to find fuel for a new one.
Once more the electric light was got under way, and twice a week atleast the diving-bell was sunk. This was a source of amusement thatnever failed to give pleasure; but so intense was the frost at timesthat it was a matter of no small difficulty to break the ice on thewater.
The captain was untiring in his efforts to keep his men employed, and inas happy a frame of mind as circumstances would admit of.
There was no snowstorm this winter, and very seldom any wind; the skywas nearly always clear, and the stars and Aurora brighter than everthey had seen them.
Christmas--the second they had spent together since leaving the Clyde--passed pleasantly enough, though there was no boisterous merriment.Songs and story-telling were in far greater request than dancing.Never, perhaps, was Rory in better spirits for solo-playing. Heappeared to know intuitively the class of music the listeners woulddelight in, and his rendering of some of the old Scottish airs seemedsimply to hold them spell-bound. As the wild, weird, plaintive notes ofthe violin, touched by the master fingers of the young poet, fell ontheir ears, they were no longer ice-bound in the dreary regions of thepole. It was no longer winter; it was no longer night. They were homeonce more in their native land; home in dear auld Scotland. The sun wasshining brightly in the summer sky, the purple of the heather was on themoorland, the glens and valleys were green, and the music of merle andmavis, mingling with the soft croodle of the amorous cushat, resoundedfrom the groves. No wonder that a few sighs were heard when Rory ceasedto play; he had touched a chord in their inmost hearts, and for the timebeing had rendered them inexpressibly happy.
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It is well to let the curtain fall here for a short time; it rises againon the first scene of the last act of this Arctic drama of ours.
Three months have elapsed since that Christmas evening in the cave whenwe beheld the crew of the _Arrandoon_ listening with happy, hopeful,upturned faces to the sweet music that Rory discoursed from his darlinginstrument. Only three months, but what a change has come over theprospects of sill on board that seemingly doomed ship! Often and oftenhad our heroes been face to face with death in storms and tempests atsea, in fighting with wild beasts, and even with wild men, but neverbefore had they met the grim king of terrors in the form he now assumed.For several weeks the men had been falling ill, and dying one by one,and already no less than nine graves had been dug and filled under thesnow on the mountain's side.
The disease, whatever it was, resisted all kinds of treatment, and,indeed, though the symptoms in every case were similar at thecommencement, no two men died in precisely the same way. At first therewas an intense longing for home; this would be succeeded in a few daysby loss of all appetite, by distaste for food or exertion of any kind,and by fits of extreme melancholy and depression. The doctor did hisbest. Alas! there are diseases against which all the might of medicalskill is unavailing.
Brandy and other stimulants were tried; but these only kept the deadlyailment at bay for a very short time; it returned with double force, andpoor sufferers were doubly prostrated in consequence.
There was no bodily pain, except from a strange hollow cough that in allcases accompanied the complaint, but there was rapid
emaciation, hot,burning brow, and hands and feet that scorched like fire, and while somefell into a kind of gentle slumber from which they awoke no more in thisworld, others died from sheer debility, the mind being clear to thelast--nay, even brighter as they neared the bourne from which notraveller ever returns.
As the time went on--the days were now getting long again, for springhad returned--matters got even worse. It was strange, too, that thevery best and brightest of the crew were the first to be attacked and todie. I do not think there was a dry eye in the ship when the littleprocession wound its way round the hillside bearing in its unpretendingcoffin the mortal remains of poor Ted Wilson. All this long cruise hehad been the life and soul of the whole crew. No wonder that the wordsof the beautiful old song _Tom Bowling_ rose to the mind of more thanone of the crew of the _Arrandoon_ when Ted was laid to rest:
"His form was of
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