CHAPTER XIV.
THE PACK OPENS.--MYSTERIOUS MURMURS.--LOVE SCENES AND SOUNDS.
All day long the snow fell heavily, and although the wind blew with nogreat violence, it was evidently increasing their drift eastward intothe open Gulf. At night the temperature was perceptibly higher, and asthey gathered around the light of the rude brazier in the centre oftheir ice-cave, each for the first time opened his heavy outer clothing,and felt the cool zephyrs that, from time to time, found their waythrough the door curtain, to be a welcome visitant.
The fire had melted a deep hollow in the centre, which was naturally thelowest part of the floor, and Peter quietly arose, and bringing in theaxe, cut a narrow but deep gutter out through the doorway. Reverentlythat night the little group bowed their heads as Waring, with his sweetvoice, led the singing of one of the old familiar hymns, dear alike toChurchman and Dissenter, and La Salle prayed that the hand of theFather might be with them in their coming trials.
For already the boat had received her scanty store of food and fuel,their weapons stood close at hand, a pile of cooked meats was coolingnear the door, and all knew that a few hours might again find themseeking a new shelter, among perils compared to which those alreadypassed, were "trifles light as air."
Heretofore they had been exposed to no wide sweep of seas, and had neverfelt the solid ice beneath them rolling and plunging through mountainoussurges, or dashed in terrible collision against its companions of thedismembered ice-pack. Now every mile which they drifted increased thesweep of the sea, and in the centre of the wide Gulf, the southerlywinds would scarcely fail to open, at least, the outer sections of thefloes.
As they concluded their brief Sabbath exercises, La Salle drew from hisvest pocket a stump of lead pencil, and seemed at a loss for somethingon which to write.
"Have any of you a piece of paper?" he asked.
All answered in the negative; but a thought seemed to strike him, anddrawing from an inner pocket a much crumpled letter, he opened it, andseemed to consider. The envelope was worn out, but had preserved theclosely-written note paper within; and taking a single page, he spreadit on his gunstock, and, in broad-lined, coarsely-made letters, drew upthe following record of their present position and prospects:--
"OFF CAPE NORTH, SUNDAY, April 15, 186--.
"TO WHOEVER MAY FIND THIS: This morning the undersigned, with George Waring, Peter Mitchell, and Regnar Orloff, all well, were twelve miles north-east of Cape North, but a snow storm prevented an attempt to land. Knowing that, with the presently impending southerly storm, we may have to leave our present refuge, I hereby assure those who may find this of our present safety, and desire them to forward this to the office of the Controller of Customs at Halifax, or St. John.
(Signed) "CHARLES LA SALLE."
"Regnie, please write this in French on the other side--will you?" saidthe writer, as he finished.
Orloff took the page, and turning it over, did as requested; but as hefinished signing his own name, he let the pencil drop from his fingers,and for a moment found himself incapable of movement or expression.Controlling himself with an effort, he folded the note neatly, andreturned it, with the pencil, to La Salle.
"Who is your fair correspondent, M. La Salle?" said he, in French.
La Salle, with flushed face and eyes lighted up with due resentment ofthe other's curiosity, answered,--
"You seem to have read for yourself."
Orloff's manner changed at once.
"A thousand pardons, monsieur, but I have a good reason for asking thelady's name."
"Pauline H. Randall, as you may see for yourself," was the quiet reply.
"One more question, sir. Do you know her middle name?"
"I did, but cannot exactly recall it, as she never uses it in full, andI have forgotten whether it is Hobel or Hubel; that it is one of thetwo, I am pretty certain."
A glance of mingled expression shot from the eyes of Orloff, but herestrained himself with a visible effort, and he became again thesomewhat phlegmatic pilot of the Gulf shore.
"Thank you, M. La Salle. You shall know more at a fitting season."
Taking one of Waring's cartridge cases, La Salle forced the record intoits narrow chamber, and selecting a small strip of pine,--a part of thethin side of his crushed float,--he stopped the cartridge with atightly-fitting wad, and fastened it to the board with a piece of stoutcord. On the white board he printed, in large letters, "Read thecontents of the case;" and going out, he placed it firmly upright on thesummit of the berg.
At twelve that night the rain fell fast, the wind blew steadily from thesouthward, and the undulations of the ice, from time to time, told that,although safe in the very heart of the pack, yet still the field hadalready resolved itself into its component parts. Towards midnight allfell asleep, being satisfied that no immediate danger threatened them;but at about half an hour before daybreak, Waring awoke, and placed afew blocks on the smoldering embers. As he waited for them to burst intoa flame, he heard the air filled with confused murmurings, unlike anysounds that he had previously experienced. Gradually they appeared todraw nearer, to sound from all sides, to fill the air overhead, and evenat last to ascend from the depths below. Strangely sweet, yet sadlyplaintive, they at once charmed and terrified the poor boy, weak fromhis recent illness, and worn with the anxieties of his situation.
At last Regnar awoke, and to him Waring applied for an explanation ofthe strange sounds. Orloff listened attentively, and answered withpaling cheeks,--
"Such are the melodies which my people say that the sad Necker sings bythe lonely river, when he bemoans his lot, in that Christ died not forhim. Doubtless the sea has its water spirits, and they now surround ourisland of ice."
Waring, unskilled in the folk-lore of Dane, Swede, and German,answered,--
"It can't be that. It must be that some vessel is near us, or there is acrew of wrecked sealers around us on the ice. Ah, Peter, are youthinking of getting up. Listen to those sounds, and tell us what theyare--will you?"
Peter listened gravely and attentively.
"I not know that noise, brother. I know nearly all the cries of bird andbeast, and often I sleep all 'lone in the woods; hear howl, hear fox,hear frog, hear everyting. Sometime I tink I know that noise; then Itink I not know him at all. Get La Salle awake; ask him--he know."
La Salle slept but lightly whenever there was need of vigil, and thelast words had fallen on his awakening ears.
"What's the matter, Peter?" said he.
"We hear many strange noise. I not know, George not know, Regnie notknow, none of us know. There it come again. What you call that?"
La Salle listened a moment, went to the door, and then beckoned to hiscompanions to follow. The rain fell heavily, but the wind came warm andgently from the balmy south, and no rude blast shrieked and sighed amidthe ice-peaks. The strange sounds were sweeter, louder, and apparentlynearer than before. Soft and sad as the strains of the disconsolateNecker, plaintive as the mournings of men without hope, wild as thecries of the midnight forest, and the sighings of wind-tossed branches.La Salle laughed a low, glad laugh.
"You may sleep soundly," said he; "the coots and ducks have comenorthward, and the spring is here at last. To-morrow will bring ussport to repletion, for the sounds you hear are the love-songs of thesea-birds, whose voices, however harsh, grow sweet when the sun bringsback again the season of love and flowers."
When the morn came, unheralded by sunbeams, and shrouded by leadenrain-clouds, a veil of mist covered the vast ice-field, of which no twomasses retained their former proximity. A network of narrow channelsopened and closed continually among the dripping bergs, from whose sidesflashed the frequent cascade, and glimmered the shimmering avalanche ofdislodged snow. Amid this ever-shifting panorama, giving it life andbeauty, covering pool and channel with merry, restless knots of diving,feeding, coquetting, quarreling swimmers, relieving the colorless icewith groups of jetty velvet and scoter ducks, gray an
d white-wingedcoots, crested mergansers in their gorgeous spring plumage, and fat,lazy black ducks, with Lilliputian blue and green winged teal, fillingthe air with the whirr of swift pinions, and the ceaseless murmur of themating myriads, rested from their long northward journey, a host such asmortal eye hath seldom beheld, and which it hath fallen to the lot offew sportsmen to witness and enjoy.
"I kill many birds on _h_ice, in _quetan_, among sedge out on the bay,but I never see such sight. I never think so many birds in the worldbefore," said Peter, as he loaded his double-barrel.
"I been up Ivuctoke Inlet, on Greenland coast; down Disco saw great manybird, but nothing like this," muttered Regnar.
"It is almost too bad to kill any of these lovely creatures," saidGeorge, whose loving nature drank in the full beauty of the scene;"can't we do without them?"
"We have only six birds, and some seal fat, meat, and liver. If itcloses the ice again we shall soon be short of food. So we'll get outour floating decoys to leeward, and see what we can do to replenish ourlarder."
La Salle's plan was duly carried out. A couple of flocks of floatingdecoys were anchored to a protruding spur of ice, and for an hour or sothe four had their fill of slaughter. Each was limited to threecartridges apiece, and no one would fire except at an unusually largeflock. Peter brought down a goose with each barrel, and six brent withhis third shot; Regnar killed nine black duck with one barrel, fivevelvet ducks with another, and six teal with the third. Waringunexpectedly had a shot at a flock of Phalapores, and secured twelve ofthese curious birds; but his third shot at a solitary goose failed,owing to a defective cap. La Salle, after a single shot which killed abrace of brent, was about to reload, and had just poured in a charge ofpowder, when he suddenly crouched behind a hummock, and motioned to theothers to follow his example; then, pointing to a small lead justopening between two bergs about two hundred yards away, he called theattention of his companions to an enormous seal, even larger than theirvictim of the day before.
The new-comer was a prodigious "hooded" seal, and the loose skin whichenveloped his head was distended with air, and gave forth a hollow,barrel-like sound, whenever, raising himself above the waves, he camedown with a heavy splash upon the surface. His aspect was savage andferocious, and he seemed looking for some object on which to wreak hisrancor; for from time to time he sent forth a savage cry, far hoarserand prolonged than the whining bark which these animals usually utter.
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"He's an ole male. He dreadful angry, and I s'pect some other one nearhere. Yes, there he comes;" and Regnar pointed to another openingbetween two massive floes, from whence, sounding a valorous defiance tohis challenger, emerged a second seal, even larger than the first. Withmutual animosity they darted towards each other, and the next momentwere engaged in a terrific combat.
So quick were their evolutions as they fought, now above and now belowthe surface of the water, that the eye could scarcely distinguish which,for the moment, had a temporary advantage, although one was much darkerin hue, and more beautifully marked than the other. They sprang into theair, they dived beneath the surface, they threw their heavy bodiesagainst each other, they tore each other with teeth and claws, and thewater was covered with bloody foam.
La Salle watched the fray with divided interest. It was a new andinteresting lesson in natural history, and he wanted the huge skins andblubber of the combatants, who fought on unconscious of their hiddenaudience, and the deep interest taken in their movements. Half a dozentimes La Salle had raised his huge gun to fire, and lowered it again,unable to get a sure aim, so sudden were the changes of the conflict. Atlast, wearied but unconquered, both lay almost motionless upon thewater, tearing at each other's throats like bull-dogs who have fought tomutual exhaustion.
As his heavy weapon settled into deadly aim, Regnar touched La Salle'sshoulder. "No shot heavy enough for those fellows; must have bullet.That hood turn anything but rifle-ball."
By the side of the hummock lay a short piece of pine board, once themovable thwart of the float. La Salle beckoned to Peter. "Make me out ofthis a stout, sharp-headed arrow, with a heavy shaft." Peter doubtfullydrew his _waghon_ and split off a piece, which in about a minute waswhittled into a short, stout arrow, headed only with a wooden point, thelargest diameter of which fitted pretty accurately to the bore of theheavy piece. La Salle, meanwhile, had drawn his shot, and motioning toPeter to load a barrel of his own gun in like manner, turned to watchthe waning conflict, which, notwithstanding the exhaustion of thecombatants, had evidently produced little more damage than a few savageflesh wounds.
In another moment Peter had fitted another arrow to his own gun, andawaited the word. Regnar whistled sharp and shrill, the combatantssuddenly separated, and each, rising until his flippers showed above thesurface, looked on all sides for the source of this sudden interruption.At once both guns roared in unison, a distance of scarce twenty yardsintervening between the marksmen and their prey. Peter's mark, thelargest and most beautiful of the two, fell dead, with its headtransfixed with the arrow, which waved feebly above the crimsonedsurface, as the huge body trembled with the throes of dissolution. LaSalle's aim was less sure, and the novel missile tore through the neck,just below the ear. A fountain of blood sprang ten feet into the air asthe dying animal fell back, spurning the bloody pool with tail andflippers; but the mighty heart sent forth its wasted life-tide, untilits current was exhausted and the powerful "old hood" was like hiswhilom rival--a lifeless mass of inert flesh.
"Well, I never see such ting shoot before. I use duck shot, goose shot,sometime nails, and sometime little stones, and once in woods I killgleat bear with junk of lead: but I never shoot arrow before." Thus saidPeter, wondering at his own achievement.
Waring had noted with great curiosity the effect of the new missile."Where did you learn that, Charley? To think that a piece of soft woodshould kill such huge animals!"
La Salle had hastened to launch the boat, but stopped to answer aquestion in which all seemed to take an interest. "About three hundredyears ago, Captain John Hawkins, a stout skipper of Devon, and one ofthose old sea-dogs who helped to conquer the great Spanish Armada, hadthese arrows, which he called 'sprights,' to distinguish them from thosestill used with the English longbow, made in large quantities, to beused in the muskets of his men. He claimed that they passed through andthrough the bulwarks of the Spanish ships, and highly commended them tohis contemporaries. I should prefer bullets myself, but have no doubtthat they attain a great range, and have, before this, driven a piece ofsoft pine nearly five inches into a hard spruce post. I should feelperfectly safe in meeting a bear or wolf with no other missile in mygun."
Regnar jumped into the boat, and the two pushed off and secured theseals, both of which were very fat, but covered with blood, and much cutabout the head and neck. Securing them with a rope, they returned to theshore, and with some difficulty hauled them out upon the berg, wherePeter and Regnar hastened to skin them, and preserve such portions ofthe meat as they required. The heads were also split to procure thebrains, and the large sinews extracted, after which the bodies wereconsigned to the sea, and at once sank down until they were lost fromsight in the depths of the Gulf.
The three skins were then carefully stripped of blubber and membrane,and Peter, taking the brains, mixed them with water into a soft paste,which was spread over the inner side of each skin. Each was then foldedonce, and then formed into a compact roll, tightly bound with thesinews, after which the three skins were suspended at the top of the hutabove the stove, to await the softening action of the brain-paste.
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