Kitabı oku: «Arctic Adventures», sayfa 6
Chapter Six
Pretty well tired with the day’s exertions, I turned into my berth. Silence reigned round the ship: not a sea-bird’s cry, not the slightest sound from the ice reached us. I dreamed that I was once more at home, climbing over the heathery hills of my native land, when I felt the ship heaving and rolling, her stout timbers creaking and groaning, as blow after blow was dealt on her sides and bows, while noises resembling shrieks and howls came from every direction, filling the air.
Slipping into my clothes I rushed on deck, where everyone else had gone. Dawn had broken. A furious gale was blowing, and the ice, as far as the eye could reach, was in violent commotion, while long lanes or broad pools were opening out to the westward and southward. The captain ordered as much sail as the ship could carry to be set.
“We may yet get free, lads!” he cried.
The announcement was received by shouts from the crew. They were willing to encounter the onslaught of the floes, so that we could force our way out through their midst into open water. The captain or Mr Patterson were constantly aloft looking out for leads, but I observed that in spite of their anxiety to find these openings to the southward, the ship’s head was generally pointed to the west. At any moment, however, we might find a channel open to the southward. We had long lost sight of the coast of Spitzbergen, and were approaching that of Greenland. Sometimes the lines led us even more to the northward, towards some wide pool, from which no other channel was seen by which we might escape to the open ocean. The course of the ship reminded me of that of a hare, turning now to one side, now to the other, in her attempt to escape from the dogs. Frequently we rushed against the ice with a force which made every timber quiver. But the stout bows were prepared for the shock, and the ice bounded off and the way was clear.
Several days we continued to sail on, sometimes gliding smoothly through the narrow lanes, at others rushing like a battering ram against the floes which impeded our progress. Still, at the end of the time, we appeared to be no nearer the moment of our escape than at first. Masses of ice lay to the southward which closed up directly we began to entertain hopes of reaching them, forming an impenetrable barrier across the course we had to steer.
Again the wind fell. For another day we struggled manfully, sawing and blasting the ice to reach a pool beyond which clear leads were seen. The night came down on us while we were secured to a floe. The next morning the ice had closed round our ship, and we were once more in its vice-like grasp. Observations were taken, and it was found that, instead of being nearer the south after all our exertions, we, with the whole mass of ice in which we were locked up, were drifting to the northward. All hopes of escaping were abandoned. The broken and rugged state of the ice prevented the possibility of our traversing it with sleighs or dragging boats over it, either to the southward or to the coast of Greenland. Between us and the far-distant shore we should probably find an open space of water which, without the boats, it would be impossible to cross.
We had now to make up our minds to spend the winter in the ice, and wait for the summer to get free, should the ship in the meantime escape being crushed, a fate we knew full well might at any moment overtake her. We were fast to a level floe of great thickness, almost smooth enough in some places for skating, had we possessed skates to amuse ourselves. The inevitable being known, our spirits rose; we formed plans for passing our time and preparing the ship to enable us to endure the cold of an Arctic winter; we even joked on our condition. Ewen suggested that if we were to drift at the rate we were now going we might become discoverers of the North Pole.
So solid was the ice everywhere around it appeared to us that no further damage could happen to the ship, and that all we had to do was to wait patiently until she was liberated during the next summer.
Cold as were the nights, the sun during the day made the air pleasant when the weather was calm, if not almost too hot for exercise in our Arctic clothing. As before, excursions were undertaken in search of walruses and seals, with a slight hope of meeting with a whale, which might come up to breathe in a pool.
Sandy, Ewen, and I, with two other men, started from the ship; Ewen and I carrying our guns, Sandy his trusty harpoon and line, the men additional harpoons and spears, with a small sledge for dragging back any large game we might kill. It was of the greatest importance to obtain fresh meat to keep away that dreadful complaint, scurvy.
We had crossed our floe, as we called the mass to which we were attached, and were making our way westward in the direction of the land, hoping that from the top of some hummock we might chance to see it. Should the worst come to the worst, we must contrive to get there, and look out for some of the people, who we had heard say are good natured enough, though rather too fond of blubber to make them pleasant messmates in a small hut.
Ewen and I had dropped some way behind our companions, when we saw them turn to the northward towards an ice-hole, which we had shortly before discovered from the top of a hummock. We were about to follow, when Ewen declared that he saw a bear in an opposite direction stealing along amid the broken ice.
We hurried on in the direction he had seen the animal, hoping soon again to catch sight of it. An extensive hummock was before us: I agreed to go round one side, while he took the other. I had parted from him scarcely five minutes when I heard him utter a loud cry for help. I hurried back, expecting to find that he had been attacked by the bear. What was my dismay then to see neither him nor the bear, but I distinguished a black spot just above the ice near where I had left him. I rushed on, when I saw Ewen’s head projecting out of a water-hole while his hands were holding on to the ice.
“Help me, help me, or I must let go,” he shouted. Fortunately I had brought a coil of light rope, which I carried over my shoulder. Undoing it, I drew as near to the hole as I could venture. To tell him to catch hold of the end would have been mockery; in attempting to do so he might have sunk. I therefore made a bow-line knot, which I jerked over his shoulders, he then first let go one hand, then the other, and while he clung tightly to it, with considerable exertion, I managed to draw him up out of the water. His rifle, when he fell, he had thrown from him, so that except for the discomfort of being wet and the ill effects which might arise, he was not the worse for the accident. Unwilling to lose the bear, we continued our pursuit after it. If it had been in the neighbourhood it had taken itself off, and we could nowhere discover it.
We accordingly pushed on in the direction Sandy had taken, keeping at the same time a look out for the bear, examining the nature of the ice as we went along, to avoid another tumble through it. There had been a slight fall of snow which enabled us to follow in his track, which we fortunately discovered when at length reaching a hummock, we climbed to the top to look out and ascertain how far he had got from us.
“I see a black spot on the ice. It must be a man. Can anything have happened to the others?” exclaimed Ewen. “He is coming this way.”
We descended and ran on to meet him. It was one of the men who had been sent back, he said, to look for us, as the boatswain had become anxious at our non-appearance. When he saw Ewen’s condition, he advised that we should go back to the ship, as it might be dangerous for him to remain in his wet clothes. Ewen, however, insisted on going forward, declaring that as long as he was in exercise he did not feel the cold.
On crossing another hummock, we caught sight of Sandy with his companions. They were bending over a hole in the ice, Sandy with his harpoon prepared to strike at some object in the water. One of the men made a signal to us to keep back. We guessed at once that Sandy expected to find either a seal or a walrus rise to the surface, and was eagerly waiting to harpoon it. We accordingly halted to see what would happen. Presently Sandy stood up, holding his weapon ready to strike; then down it came, and he and his companions seized the end of the line and held fast. We rushed forward to their assistance, and arrived just in time to prevent their being drawn into the water-hole or having to let go the line. “Hold on, lads, hold on!” cried Sandy. “It’s a big bull walrus I suspect from the way the fellow tugs.” Taking a spear he advanced to the edge of the hole, when he plunged it into the body of an object invisible to us; he then sprang back, and in another instant a huge head and shoulders, with an enormous pair of tusks and flappers, appeared above the surface.
“Haul away, lads, haul away,” he shouted, putting his hand to the rope to give us his assistance, when out came, with a loud flop, a large walrus. The creature on seeing us endeavoured to work its way on, opening wide its jaws and threatening us with its tusks; but as it advanced we ran back, until Sandy, taking the third spear, sprang towards its side, into which he deeply buried the weapon, almost pinning the animal to the ice. It still struggled violently, and as we had no more spears I advanced towards it with my rifle, and shot it through the head, when it rolled over perfectly dead. It was a prize worth having. The difficulty would be to get it back to the ship. We rolled the body on the sleigh, to which we secured it.
We got on very well over the smooth ice, but when we arrived at a hummock we had to exert all our strength to get the carcase up to the top. We then let it roll down again to the opposite side. As we had a good many hummocks to pass, our progress was slow, and the day was waning when we caught sight of the ship. Sandy asked Ewen and me to go forward and obtain assistance. This we very gladly did, for all the party were pretty well worn out, and we felt that we could haul no longer.
I was also particularly anxious to get Ewen into his bed, as his underclothing was still wet. On our arrival the doctor took charge of him; and I volunteered to lead back four of the men, whom the Captain had directed to go and assist Sandy. There was no time to be lost. The sky had become overcast, and there was every appearance that we should have a heavy snow-storm. We little knew, however, what was coming. Tired as I was, I set off with the men to try to find Sandy. I felt pretty sure that I could steer a course to the spot where I had left him, from having taken the exact bearings of the ship. Though we had seen the ship in the distance, it was not so easy to distinguish three men surrounded by hummocky ice. In a short time after we had set out, the expected snow began to fall, and very heavily it came down. I was afraid that, although we might find Sandy, we should be unable to drag back the body of the walrus. This would be provoking after the exertions we had already made. I was truly thankful when we at length caught sight of our shipmates amid the falling snow. They gave a cheer as we approached. The ship was no longer to be seen, and they, not without reason, feared that they might have missed her; and they were indeed, when we found them, steering a course which would have carried them some way to the westward of her. It was a lesson to us in future not to go far from home, unless in the finest weather, without a compass. All hands immediately tackled on to the sledge, and we set off as fast as we could move. I went ahead trying to make out the ship, but the thickening gloom and the fast falling snow concealed her from sight. At last I thought of firing off my rifle. No reply came. I fired again and again.
At length I heard the report of a musket followed by the boom of a big gun. Both appeared much farther off than I expected, though I thought I could judge the direction from which they came. I waited until my companions approached and then led them on. I fired again and was replied to from the ship.
I was thankful when we got alongside and our prize was hoisted on deck. Coarse as was the meat it was eaten with as much gusto as if it had been some delicate luxury.
While we were in the act of stowing away the blubber, the ship began to move and the ice round us to heave. Every instant the motion increased, and the scene I have before described was enacted but in a more fearful degree. The ship groaned and strained, and the masts quivered as if about to fall. The masses of ice on the outer floe began to break up, and in a few seconds rushed over the more level parts, some remaining with their edges towards the sky, others falling with tremendous crashes and shivering into pieces. We could see some through the gloom rising high above our decks, and we knew at any moment that they might come toppling down upon us and crush the stout ship. Our sense of hearing, indeed, told us more clearly than our eyes what was taking place. The captain, in a calm voice, ordered the crew to make preparations for quitting the ship. The boats were swung out on the davits, so that they could be lowered in a moment, with sails, provisions, and tools ready to put into them, while the men brought up their bags and blankets, and put on their warm clothing. The doctor got his medicine chest ready; the armourer opened the magazine and divided the arms and ammunition. Sacks for sleeping in were added to the articles, and all stood waiting for the order we expected every moment to receive to quit the ship. We stamped about the decks in vain attempting to keep ourselves warm, for no fires had been lighted, lest the stoves being overturned might set the ship in flames.
All night long the fearful uproar continued, the ice pressing with greater and greater force against the sides of the ship. The carpenter was ordered to sound the well. He reported that the water was rushing in through unseen leaks.
Should the ship sink our fate would be sealed. Our hope was that she might be pressed up on the ice, and that the wreck might preserve us during the winter. At daylight the pressure ceased, but out hope of saving the ship was gone. On examination it was found that many of her stout ribs were broken and her planks forced in, while she herself was lifted several feet above the level of the ice. This made it probable that instead of sinking, should a further pressure ensue, she would be forced up altogether our of the water. We spent the rest of that anxious day in making further preparations for quitting the ship. Yet another night we remained on board, when in the middle watch we were aroused by the boatswain’s voice, summoning the men to leave the ship. The fearful commotion of the ice showed that there was no time to lose. The boats were lowered and dragged off towards the centre of the floe. Every man knew what he had to do and worked steadily, and the articles which had been prepared were placed near the boats. The crew worked like a party of ants toiling backwards and forwards, struggling on with loads on their backs, which under ordinary circumstances they could scarcely have attempted to carry. Our fear was that the masts might fall before our task was accomplished. Mercifully, time was given us. Nothing of absolute necessity remained, and we were engaged in setting up a couple of tents which might afford us shelter until we could erect ice houses.
As day broke we saw the masts of our ship swaying to and fro, while the huge hull, as if by some mighty force below, was lifted up, and then down they came, the foremast first, dragging the mainmast and mizen mast, and the vessel lay a forlorn wreck on the top of the ice.
“It is far better to have her so, than at the bottom of the sea, lads,” exclaimed Sandy, “so don’t let us despair; though she’ll not carry us home, she’ll give us stuff to build a house, and enough firewood to last us through the winter. We’re a precious deal better off than many poor fellows have been.”
Not allowing the men a moment to think of their misfortunes, the captain at once set them the task of building a house, partly from the planking of the ship, and partly with ice. It consisted of an inner chamber with two outer ones, and a long passage leading to it, and several doors, so that the outer could be closed before the inner were opened. We had a sky-light, made from a piece of double glass on the top, and a chimney to afford ventilation and to allow the smoke to escape. While the men were engaged in forming it, the captain, my brother, Ewen and I set off to reach the summit of a berg with our sextants and spy-glasses, hoping that from thence, while we took observations we might catch sight of the Greenland coast. We carried with us also a small flag and staff, which we might plant on the top should our expedition prove successful.
The labour of walking over the hummocky ice was great, for though at a distance it looked tolerably level, we had constantly to be climbing up and sliding down elevations of considerable height. As the days were getting short, we had little time to spare. We had to keep a look-out also for holes which exist often in thick ice, kept open by whales and other monsters of the deep which come up to breathe.
“I hope that we may fall in with bears,” said Ewen; “the chances are, some old fellow will scent us out.”
“I shall be very glad to see them,” answered the captain. “It would prove that the moveable floes are already connected with the land-ice, as bears very seldom swim across a broad channel; but I fear that this immense field on which we stand is still drifting northward, and that none will venture off to us.”
At last we got to the foot of the berg for which we were aiming, and commenced its ascent.
“Why it’s a mountain and not an iceberg!” cried Ewen. “I see rocks projecting out of it.”
The captain laughed.
“Those are mere stones sticking to it,” observed Andrew; “they were torn off when the berg was separated from the glacier of which it once formed a part. Vast rocks, far larger than those we see, were at one period of our globe’s history, carried over the surface to great distances, and deposited in spots where they are now found, while the marks produced by the bergs are still visible in many localities. If this berg were to be stranded on some distant shore, it would gradually melt leaving the rocks it carries behind it, which a geologist would perceive had no connection with any strata in the neighbourhood, and he would, therefore, at once justly conclude that the rocks had been brought to the spot by a berg.”
These remarks were made as we stopped to rest on our way up. We quickly, however, continued the ascent. Andrew, who carried the flag, was first to reach the top, and, waving it above his head, shouted “Land, land!” then, working away with an axe, he dug a hole in which he planted the staff.
We all soon joined him, when, descending a short distance, the captain surveyed the distant coast, now turning his glass horizontally, now up at the sky. I asked him what he was looking at.
“Curious as it may seem, I can see the shape of the mountains in the sky better than by directing my glass at them; besides which I observe a dark line which indicates a broad channel running between us and the land-ice. It shows that I am right in my conjectures, and that the field is still moving northward. It must come to a stop one day, and when it does we must be prepared for even more violent commotions than we have yet experienced.”
The captain calculated that the land we saw was nearly thirty miles off, and that the channel ran about midway between us and it.
It was a question whether we should attempt this long journey during the autumn, or wait for the return of spring, spending our winter in our houses on the ice. The point could only be decided when the field ceased to move. One thing was certain, it would be impossible to get the boats over the hummocky ice, and thus we must depend upon our feet to reach the shore, while we dragged our stores after us.
“We must wait no longer here, lads,” said the captain who had just finished his observation. “If we do we shall be benighted, and may have to spend a long night without shelter.”
We hurried down the berg and directed our course towards the ship, but whether or not we should reach her appeared doubtful.
