CHAPTER FIVE.
LEFT TO THEIR FATE.
There are times, probably, in all conditions of life, when men feel aspecies of desolate sadness creeping over their spirits, which they findit hard to shake off or subdue. Such a time arrived to our Arcticadventurers the night after they had parted from the crew of the wrecked_Whitebear_. Nearly everything around, and much within, them wascalculated to foster that feeling.
They were seated on the rocky point on the extremity of which theiryacht had been driven. Behind them were the deep ravines, broadvalleys, black beetling cliffs, grand mountains, stupendous glaciers,and dreary desolation of Greenland. To right and left, and in front ofthem, lay the chaotic ice-pack of the Arctic sea, with lanes and poolsof water visible here and there like lines and spots of ink. Icebergsinnumerable rose against the sky, which at the time was entirely coveredwith grey and gloomy clouds. Gusts of wind swept over the frozen wastenow and then, as if a squall which had recently passed, were sighing atthe thought of leaving anything undestroyed behind it. When we add tothis, that the wanderers were thinking of the comrades who had just leftthem--the last link, as it were, with the civilised world from whichthey were self-exiled, of the unknown dangers and difficulties that laybefore them, and of the all but forlorn hope they had undertaken, thereneed be little wonder that for some time they all looked rather grave,and were disposed to silence.
But life is made up of opposites, light and shade, hard and soft, hotand cold, sweet and sour, for the purpose, no doubt, of placing manbetween two moral battledores so as to drive the weak and erringshuttlecock of his will right and left, and thus keep it in the middlecourse of rectitude. No sooner had our adventurers sunk to theprofoundest depths of gloom, than the battledore of brighter influencesbegan to play upon them. It did not, however, achieve the end at once.
"I'm in the lowest, bluest, dreariest, grumpiest, and most utterlymiserable state of mind I ever was in in all my life," said poor littleBenjy Vane, thrusting his hands into his pockets, sitting down on arock, and gazing round on the waste wilderness, which had only justceased howling, the very personification of despair.
"So's I, massa," said Butterface, looking up from a compound of wet coaland driftwood which he had been vainly trying to coax into a flame forcooking purposes; "I's most 'orribly miserable!"
There was a beaming grin on the negro's visage that gave the lie directto his words.
"That's always the way with you, Benjy," said the Captain, "eitherbubblin' over with jollity an' mischief, or down in the deepest blues."
"Blues! father," cried the boy, "don't talk of blues--it's the blacksI'm in, the very blackest of blacks."
"Ha! jus' like me," muttered Butterface, sticking out his thick lips atthe unwilling fire, and giving a blow that any grampus might haveenvied.
The result was that a column of almost solid smoke, which had been forsome time rising thicker and thicker from the coals, burst into a brightflame. This was the first of the sweet influences before referred to.
"Mind your wool, Flatnose," cried Benjy, as the negro drew quickly back.
It may be remarked here that the mysterious bond of sympathy whichunited the spirits of Benjy Vane and the black steward found expressionin kindly respect on the part of the man, and in various eccentriccourses on the part of the boy--among others, in a habit of patting himon the back, and giving him a choice selection of impromptu names, suchas Black-mug, Yellow-eyes, Square-jaws, and the like.
"What have you got in the kettle?" asked Leo Vandervell, who came upwith some dry driftwood at the moment.
"Bubble-um-squeak," replied the cook.
"What sort o' squeak is that?" asked Leo, as he bent his tall strongframe over the fire to investigate the contents of the kettle.
"What am it, massa? Why, it am a bit o' salt pork, an' a bit o' datbear you shooted troo de nose yes'rday, an' a junk o' walrus, an' twopuffins, an' some injin corn, a leetil pepper, an' a leetil salt."
"Good, that sounds well," said Leo. "I'll go fetch you some moredriftwood, for it'll take a deal of boiling, that will, to make iteatable."
The driftwood referred to was merely some pieces of the yacht which hadbeen cast ashore by the hurly-burly of ice and water that had occurredduring the last tide. No other species of driftwood was to be found onthat coast, for the neighbouring region was utterly destitute of trees.
"Where has Alf gone to?" asked the Captain, as Leo was moving away.
"Oh, he's looking for plants and shells, as usual," answered Leo, with asmile. "You know his heart is set upon these things."
"He'll have to set his heart on helping wi' the cargo after supper,"said the Captain, drawing a small notebook and pencil from his pocket.
A few more of the sweet and reviving influences of life now began tocircle round the wanderers. Among them was the savoury odour that arosefrom the pot of bubble-um-squeak, also the improved appearance of thesky.
It was night, almost midnight, nevertheless the sun was blazing in theheavens, and as the storm-clouds had rolled away like a dark curtain,his cheering rays were by that time gilding the icebergs, and renderingthe land-cliffs ruddily. The travellers had enjoyed perpetual daylightfor several weeks already, and at that high latitude they could count onmany more to come. By the time supper was ready, the depressinginfluences were gone, and the spirits of all had recovered their wontedtone. Indeed it was not to the discredit of the party that they were somuch cast down on that occasion, for the parting, perhaps for ever, fromthe friends with whom they had hitherto voyaged, had much more to dowith their sadness than surrounding circumstances or future trials.
"What plan do you intend to follow out, uncle?" asked AlphonseVandervell, as they sat at supper that night round the kettle.
"That depends on many things, lad," replied the Captain, laying down hisspoon, and leaning his back against a convenient rock. "If the icemoves off, I shall adopt one course; if it holds fast I shall tryanother. Then, if you insist on gathering and carrying along with yousuch pocket-loads of specimens, plants, rocks, etcetera, as you'vebrought in this evening, I'll have to build a sort of Noah's ark, oromnibus on sledge-runners, to carry them."
"And suppose I don't insist on carrying these things, what then?"
"Well," replied the Captain, "in that case I would--well, let me see--alittle more of the bubble, Benjy."
"Wouldn't you rather some of the squeak?" asked the boy.
"Both, lad, both--some of everything. Well, as I was saying--and you'vea right to know what's running in my head, seeing that you have to helpme carry out the plans--I'll give you a rough notion of 'em."
The Captain became more serious as he explained his plans. "TheEskimos, you know," he continued, "have gone by what I may call theshore ice, two days' journey in advance of this spot, taking our dogsalong with them. It was my intention to have proceeded to the samepoint in our yacht, and there, if the sea was open, to have taken onboard that magnificent Eskimo giant, Chingatok, with his family, andsteered away due north. In the event of the pack being impassable, Ihad intended to have laid the yacht up in some safe harbour; hunted andfished until we had a stock of dried and salted provisions, enough tolast us two years, and then to have started northward in sledges, underthe guidance of Chingatok, with a few picked men, leaving the rest andthe yacht in charge of the mate. The wreck of the _Whitebear_ has,however, forced me to modify these plans. I shall now secure as much ofour cargo as we have been able to save, and leave it here _en cache_--"
"What sort of cash is that, father?" asked Benjy.
"You are the best linguist among us, Leo, tell him," said the Captain,turning to his nephew.
"`_En cache_' is French for `in hiding,'" returned Leo, with a laugh.
"Why do you speak French to Englishmen, father?" said Benjy in apathetic tone, but with a pert look.
"'Cause the expression is a common one on this side the Atlantic, lad,and you ought to know it. Now, don't interrupt me again. Well, havingplaced
the cargo in security," ("_En cache_," muttered Benjy with aglance at Butterface.) "I shall rig up the sledges brought from England,load them with what we require, and follow up the Eskimos. You're sure,Anders, that you understood Chingatok's description of the place?"
The interpreter declared that he was quite sure.
"After that," resumed the Captain, "I'll act according to theinformation the said Eskimos can give me. D'ye know, I have a strongsuspicion that our Arctic giant Chingatok is a philosopher, if I mayjudge from one or two questions he put and observations he made when wefirst met. He says he has come from a fine country which lies far--veryfar--to the north of this; so far that I feel quite interested andhopeful about it. I expect to have more talk with him soon on thesubject. A little more o' the bubble, lad; really, Butterface, yourpowers in the way of cookery are wonderful."
"Chingatok seems to me quite a remarkable fellow for an Eskimo,"observed Leo, scraping the bottom of the kettle with his spoon, andlooking inquiringly into it. "I, too, had some talk with him--throughAnders--when we first met, and from what he said I can't help thinkingthat he has come from the remote north solely on a voyage of discoveryinto what must be to him the unknown regions of the south. Evidently hehas an inquiring mind."
"Much like yourself, Leo, to judge from the way you peer into thatkettle," said Benjy; "please don't scrape the bottom out of it. There'snot much tin to mend it with, you know, in these regions."
"Brass will do quite as well," retorted Leo, "and there can be no lackof that while you are here."
"Come now, Benjy," said Alf, "that insolent remark should put you onyour mettle."
"So it does, but I won't open my lips, because I feel that I shouldspeak ironically if I were to reply," returned the boy, gazing dreamilyinto the quiet countenance of the steward. "What are _you_ thinking of,you lump of charcoal?"
"Me, massa? me tink dere 'pears to be room for more wittles inside obme; but as all de grub's eated up, p'r'aps it would be as well to begoin' an' tacklin' suffin' else now."
"You're right, Butterface," cried the Captain, rousing himself from areverie. "What say you, comrades? Shall we turn in an' have a nap?It's past midnight."
"I'm not inclined for sleep," said Alf, looking up from some of thebotanical specimens he had collected.
"No more am I," said Leo, lifting up his arms and stretching hisstalwart frame, which, notwithstanding his youth, had already developedto almost the full proportions of a powerful man.
"I vote that we sit up all night," said Benjy, "the sun does it, and whyshouldn't we?"
"Well, I've no objection," rejoined the Captain, "but we must work if wedon't sleep--so, come along."
Setting the example, Captain Vane began to shoulder the bags and boxeswhich lay scattered around with the energy of an enthusiastic railwayporter. The other members of the party were not a whit behind him indiligence and energy. Even Benjy, delicate-looking though he was, didthe work of an average man, besides enlivening the proceedings withsnatches of song and a flow of small talk of a humorous and slightlyinsolent nature.
The Giant of the North: Pokings Round the Pole Page 6