CHAPTER ELEVEN.
CHRISTMAS TIME--DEATH--RETURN OF LIGHT AND HOPE--DISASTERS AND FINALDELIVERANCE.
Christmas came at last, but with it came no bright sun to remind thoseice-bound men of our Saviour--the "Sun of Righteousness"--whose birththe day commemorated. It was even darker than usual in Refuge Harbouron that Christmas-day. It was so dark at noon that one could not seeany object more than a few yards distant from the eyes. A gale of windfrom the nor'-west blew the snow-drift in whirling ghost-like cloudsround the _Hope_, so that it was impossible to face it for a moment. Sointense was the cold that it felt like sheets of fire being drivenagainst the face! Truly it was a day well fitted to have depressed theheartiest of men. But man is a wonderful creature, not easy tocomprehend! The very things that ought to have cast down the spirits ofthe 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 alittle, so they were prepared to make the most of everything. Thosefeelings of kindliness and good-will which warm the breasts of allright-minded men at this season of the year, filled our Arctic voyagersto overflowing. Thoughts of "home" came crowding on them with a powerthat 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 awell-known hearth in Merry England would be of one who was far, far awayin the dark regions of ice and snow. A tear or two that could not beforced back tumbled over rough cheeks which were not used to _that_ kindof salt water; and many a silent prayer went up to call down a blessingon the heads of dear ones at home.
It blew "great guns outside," as Baker said, but what of that? it was adead calm in the cabin! It was dark as a coal-hole on the floes. Whatthen? it was bright as noon-day in the _Hope_! No sun blazed throughthe skylight, to be sure, but a lamp, filled with fat, glared on thetable, and a great fire of coal glowed in the stove. Both of thesetogether did not make the place too warm, but there were fur-coats andtrousers and boots to help defy the cold. The men were few in numberand not likely to see many friends on that Christmas-day. All the morereason why they should make the most of each other! Besides, they werewrong in their last idea about friends, for it chanced, on that veryday, that Myouk the Eskimo paid them a visit--quite ignorant of itsbeing Christmas, of course. Meetek was with him, and so was Oomia, andso was the baby--that remarkably fat, oily, naked baby, that seemedrather to enjoy the cold than otherwise!
They had a plum-pudding that day. Butts said it was almost as big asthe head of a walrus. They had also a roast of beef--walrus-beef, ofcourse--and first-rate it was. But before dinner the captain made themgo through their usual morning work of cleaning, airing, making beds,posting journals, noting temperatures, opening the fire-hole, andredding up. For the captain was a great believer in the value ofdiscipline. He knew that no man enjoys himself so much as he who hasgot through his work early--who has done his duty. It did not take themlong, and when it was done the captain said, "Now, boys, we must bejolly to-day. As we can't get out we must take some exercise indoors.We shall need extra appetite to make away with that plum-pudding."
So, at it they went! Every sort of game or feat of strength known tosailors was played, or attempted. It was in the middle of all this thatMyouk and his family arrived, so they were compelled to join. Even thefat 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, andto the delight of its father, who didn't seem to care whether it waskilled or not.
Then came the dinner. What a scene that was, to be sure! It would takea whole book to describe all that was said and done that day. TheEskimos 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 yetquite recovered from scurvy. They had no wine, but they had excellentcoffee, and with this they drank to absent friends, sweethearts, andwives, and many other toasts, the mere mention of which raised suchstrong home-feelings in their breasts that some of them almost choked inthe 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. Thegreat event of the evening, however, was a fancy ball, in which ourfriends Butts, Baker, Gregory, and Pepper distinguished themselves.They had a fiddle, and Dawkins the steward could play it. He knewnothing but Scotch reels; but what could have been better? They couldall dance, or, if they could not, they all tried. Myouk and Meetek weremade to join and they capered as gracefully as polar bears, whichanimals they strongly resembled in their hairy garments. Late in theevening came supper. It was just a repetition of dinner, with theremains of the pudding fried in bear's grease.
Thus passed Christmas-Day; much in the same way passed New Year's Day.Then the men settled down to their old style of life; but the time hungso heavy on their hands that their spirits began to sink again. Thelong darkness became intolerable and the fresh meat began to fail.Everything with life seemed to have forsaken the place. The captainmade another trip to the Eskimo village and found the huts empty--thewhole race had flown, he knew not whither! The private theatricals wereat first very successful; but by degrees they lost their interest andwere given up. Then a school was started and Gregory became headmaster. Writing and arithmetic were the only branches taught. Some ofthe men were much in need of instruction, and all of them took to theschool with energy and much delight. It lasted longer than thetheatricals did. As time wore on the fresh meat was finished, scurvybecame worse; and it was as much as the men who were not quite knockeddown could do to attend to those who were. Day after day Tom andGregory and Sam Baker went out to hunt, and each day returnedempty-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 holdof the brig. They were caught in traps and shot with a bow and ablunt-headed arrow. But few of the men would eat them. The captainurged them to do so in vain. Those who did eat kept in better healththan those who did not.
At last death came. Mr Mansell sank beneath the terrible disease andwas buried on the island. No grave could be dug in that hard frozensoil. The burial service was read by his sorrowing comrades over hisbody, which was frozen quite hard before they reached the grave, andthen they laid it in a tomb of ice.
Time hung heavier than ever after that. Death is at all time a terriblevisitant, but in such a place and under such circumstances it wastenfold more awful than usual. The blank in so small a band was a greatone. It would perhaps have depressed them more than it did had theirown situation been less desperate. But they had too fierce a battle tofight with disease, and the midnight gloom, and the bitter frost, togive way to much feeling about him who was gone.
Thus the long winter passed 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 lightcame also _hope_, and health soon followed in his train. Let youngGregory's journal tell the rest of our story, little of which nowremains to be told.
"_February 21st_.--I have to record, with joy and gratitude, that thesun shone on the peaks of the ice-bergs to-day. The first time it hasdone so since October last. By the end of this month we shall have hisrays on deck. I climbed to the top of a berg and actually bathed insunshine this forenoon! We are all quite excited by the event, some ofus 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 thestrongest. Baker is also pretty well. Crofts and Davis are almostuseless, the rest being quite helpless. The captain cooks, Baker and Ihunt, Crofts and Davis attend to the sick. Another month of darknesswould have killed the half of us.
"_March 10th_.--I shot a bear to-day. It did my heart good to see thefaces of the men when I brought them the news and a piece of the flesh!The cold is not quite so intense now. Our coldest day this year hasbe
en the 17th of January. The glass stood at 67 degrees below zero onthat 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. Asingle bear will not last long. Many weeks must pass before we arefree. In June we hope to be released from our ice-prison. Fresh meatwe shall then have in abundance. With it strength will return, andthen, if God 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 writingas follows:
"_June 15th_.--Free at last! The ice has been breaking up out at seafor some time past. It gave way in Refuge Harbour yesterday, and wewarped out in the night. Everything is ready to push north again. Wehave been feeding heartily for many weeks on walrus, seals, wild-fowl,and last, but not least, on some grasses which make bad greens, but theyhave put scurvy to flight. All the men are well and strong and fit forhard 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 ofthis winter to our graves. The bright beautiful sunshine shines 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 bringforth! Our good little brig is gone, and we are here on the ice withouta thing in the world except the clothes on our backs. I have saved mynote-book, which chanced to be in my breast-pocket when the nip tookplace. How awfully sudden it was! We now appreciate the wiseforethought of Captain Harvey in sending the large boat to Forlorn-HopeBay. This boat is our last and only hope. We shall have to walk fortymiles before we reach it.
"Our brig went down at three o'clock this afternoon. We had warped outinto the floes to catch a light breeze that was blowing outside. Forsome time we held on steadily to the northward, but had not got out ofsight of our winter quarters when a stream of ice set down upon us andclosed in all around. At first we thought nothing of this, havingescaped so many dangers of the kind last autumn, but by degrees thepressure increased alarmingly. We were jammed against a great ice-fieldwhich was still fast to the shore. In a few moments the sides of ourlittle vessel began to creak and groan loudly. The men laboured liketigers at the ice-poles, but in vain. We heard a loud report in thecabin. No one knows what it was, but I suppose it must have been thebreaking of a large bolt. At any rate it was followed by a series ofcrashes and reports that left no doubt in our minds as to what was goingon. The ice was cracking the brig as if she had been a nut-shell.`Save yourselves, lads!' cried the captain. One or two of the men madea rush to the hatchway, intending to run below and save some of theirthings. I ran to the cabin-ladder in the hope of saving our log-bookand journals, but we all started back in horror, for the deck at thatmoment burst open almost under our feet. I cast one glance down throughthe opening into the hold. That glance was sufficient. The massivetimbers and beams were being crushed together, doubled up, split, andshivered, as if they had been rotten straws! In another moment I was onthe ice, where the whole crew were assembled, looking on at the work ofdestruction in solemn silence.
"After bursting in the vessel's sides the ice eased off, and she at oncebegan to settle down. We could hear the water rushing furiously intothe hold. Ten minutes later she was gone! Thus end our hopes offarther discovery, and we are now left to fight our way in an open boatto the settlements on the south coast of Greenland. We have little timeto think. Prompt action must be our watchword now, if we would escapefrom this world of ice.
"_July 20th_.--I have not entered a line in this journal since ourvessel was lost. Our work has been so severe, and our sufferings sogreat, that I have had no heart for writing. Our walk to the placewhere we left the boat was a hard one, but we were cheered by findingthe 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, almoststarving--such has been our fate since that sad day when our brig wentdown. And yet I don't think there is one of our party who would notturn about on the spot and renew our voyage of discovery, if he only gota chance of going in a well-appointed vessel. As it is, we must pushon. Home! home! is our cry now.
"_August 1st_.--We are now in clover, after having been reduced to thinkof roasting our shoes for breakfast. For three days last week we atenothing at all. Our powder has been expended for some weeks past. OnMonday we finished our last morsel of the gull that Pepper managed tobring down with a stone. Tuesday was a terrible day. The agony ofhunger was worse than I had expected it to be. Nevertheless, we triedhard to cheer each other as we laboured at the oars. Our only hope wasto fall in with natives. Signs of them were seen everywhere, and weexpected to hear their shouts at every point of land we doubled. Thecaptain 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 cocked his ears as if there was some hope still of work for himto do in his own line. Jim Crofts pulled off his shoe, and, looking atit earnestly, wondered if the sole would make a very tough chop. We alllaughed, but I cannot say that the laugh sounded hearty. On theThursday 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 shudderingwhen I thought of the terrible things that men have done when reduced tothis state.
"That evening, as we rounded a point, we saw an Eskimo boy high on acliff, with a net in his hand. He did not see us for some time, and wewere so excited that we stopped rowing to watch him in breathlesssilence. Thousands of birds were flying round his head among thecliffs. How often we had tried to kill some of these with sticks andstones, in vain! The net he held was a round one, with a long handle.Suddenly he made a dashing sweep with it and caught two of the birds asthey passed! We now saw that a number of dead birds lay at his feet.In one moment our boat was ashore and we scrambled up the cliffs ineager haste. The boy fled in terror, but before he was well out ofsight 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 fortunatethat there were not many birds, else we should have done ourselves harmby eating too much. I have eaten many a good meal in my life, but neverone 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 findthat it is only two days' journey from this place to the Danishsettlements. There we mean to get on board the first ship that is boundfor Europe--no matter what port she sails for. Meanwhile we rest ourweary limbs in peace, for our dangers are past, and--thanks be to God--we are saved."
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Reader, my tale is told. A little book cannot be made to contain a longstory, else would I have narrated many more of the strange andinteresting events that befell our adventurers during that voyage. Butenough has been written to give some idea of what is done and sufferedby those daring men who attempt to navigate the Polar seas.
THE END.
Fast in the Ice: Adventures in the Polar Regions Page 11