Kitabı oku: «First at the North Pole: or, Two Boys in the Arctic Circle», sayfa 13
CHAPTER XXV – CROSSING THE GREAT LEAD
In less than a quarter of a minute more they came in sight of the walrus, stretched out on the ice close to the lead. It was a large specimen, weighing a good many hundred pounds, and as awkward as it was heavy.
At the sight of the man and boys the beast raised itself up slightly and started as if to turn back into the water. As it did this, Barwell Dawson raised the rifle, took steady aim, and sent a bullet through its head.
“That’s a fine shot!” exclaimed Andy as the walrus fell back, uttering a roar of pain. “Shall I give it another?”
“Might as well,” was the explorer’s answer, and the lad quickly complied, the shot scattering into the walrus’s head, killing it almost instantly.
Scarcely had the echo of the discharge penetrated the air, when there came a number of loud roars from a little further around the icy hill. The hunters advanced, and Chet uttered a yell:
“Look! look! Did you ever see so many walruses in your life!”
He pointed ahead, but there was no need to do this, for all saw, only a couple of hundred feet away, a veritable herd of walruses numbering at least a hundred if not twice that number. They had heard the death-cry of their mate, and were lumbering forward to see what was the matter.
“We can’t fight such a crowd as that!” exclaimed Andy, aghast. “We had better clear out.”
“I wish the Esquimaux were here,” returned Barwell Dawson. “We could make a mighty haul of walrus meat, and that is what we need.” He looked at the boys. “Who is the better runner of you two?” he asked.
“Andy,” answered Chet, promptly. “He can outrun me twice over.”
“Then supposing you leg it for camp just as hard as you can,” continued the explorer. “Tell the Esquimaux and Mr. Camdal to come as quickly as possible.”
Without waiting for more words, Andy was off like a shot, directly past the walruses, who simply raised themselves up to gaze stupidly at him. The others had withdrawn from sight, and when the beasts saw Andy running away they thought themselves alone. Slowly they lumbered over the ice and surrounded their dead companion, uttering hoarse roars that could be heard a long way off.
Andy had the direction of the camp well in mind, and made as straight a run for it as the nature of the ice permitted. With such heavy clothing a record run was impossible, yet he covered the distance in good time.
He found the Esquimaux outside of their igloos, listening to the roaring of the walruses, which could be heard far away over the ice. He soon made them acquainted with what was wanted, and with a glad shout they started off with their spears and bows and arrows. Then he aroused Mr. Camdal, and the latter got his shotgun and an ax.
“An ax is sometimes better than a gun,” explained Mr. Camdal. “You can sometimes crush a walrus’s skull with one well-aimed blow from an ax.”
The Esquimaux were ahead, but the others soon caught up with them. The walruses were still roaring and bellowing. One of the natives said this was a sign that they were getting ready to move.
As they drew closer, the Esquimaux spread out in a semicircle, and held up their spears ready for use. Olalola was in the lead, for he was considered by all to be the best hunter.
The walruses were found almost where they had been when Andy went for aid. A few surrounded the dead beast, sniffing the carcass suspiciously. Evidently they had never been hunted, and did not know the meaning of a gunshot.
As soon as the Esquimaux were sufficiently close, they threw their spears, and followed these up with a number of arrows. In the meantime the others discharged their firearms, and then Mr. Camdal rushed in boldly with his ax. By this means eight of the huge creatures were laid low before they could help themselves. The others turned to gain the open water, and went sousing in, sending the icy spray in all directions.
In his enthusiasm, Chet had drawn close to the lead, and before he knew it he found two of the walruses confronting him. He dodged one, but the other beast knocked him flat with one blow of a flipper. It looked as if his life would be crushed out a moment later.
Andy saw his chum fall, and for the moment his heart leaped into his throat. Then he jumped to the front, and sent a bullet into the breast of the walrus. But this was not fatal, and the walrus still lurched forward.
“Pull Chet away!” yelled Mr. Dawson, and fired from a distance, the bullet hitting the walrus just below the head. Then a spear whizzed through the air, thrown by Olalola. This caught the beast in the mouth, and went part way down its throat. The walrus flopped backward, and at that moment Andy caught his chum by the leg, and dragged him out of danger. Then Mr. Camdal came to the front, and a blow from the ax finished the beast.
The battle was now practically over, for the walruses that were alive had taken to the water. Those that were badly wounded could not swim very well, and the Esquimaux went after them, bringing in two. The total killing amounted to thirteen.
“That’s a lucky thirteen,” was Barwell Dawson’s comment, after the excitement was over. “The meat is just what we want, for the Esquimaux and the dogs, and the hides will come in handy, for footwear and harness.”
It was no easy task to get the walruses and the polar bear to the camp, and several of the dog sledges had to be brought up for that purpose. Then two days were spent in getting the meat ready for use, and in preparing the hides.
It was a clear, cold day when the next start northward was made. A light wind blew from the westward. Barwell Dawson calculated that they might cover twenty, if not twenty-five, miles.
“From now on we must do our best,” said he. “We can afford no more delays, otherwise our food supply may give out before we get back.”
Fortunately all were in the best of health, although Professor Jeffer suffered a little from snow-blindness. He at once donned a pair of smoked goggles, and several of the others did likewise.
The end of the week found them a hundred and fifteen miles closer to the Pole. They had encountered two leads, but had managed to get across without great difficulty. One of the sledges had been badly damaged, and it was resolved to break it up, and use the parts in repairing the other turnouts. Two of the dogs were sick, and had to be killed.
The next day the weather changed, and for forty-eight hours they struggled on through a heavy snowstorm, with the wind fortunately on their backs. During this storm one of the sledges fell into some open water, and three dogs were drowned, while a small portion of the outfit went out of sight into the Arctic Sea.
“All hands must be more careful after this,” said Barwell Dawson. “As we advance, going will probably become more treacherous. Keep your eyes wide open.”
As soon as it cleared off, Professor Jeffer brought out his sextant and his artificial horizon (a pan of mercury), and took an observation. He announced that they were close to the eighty-fourth degree of north latitude.
“That means we have but six more degrees to cover, – about four hundred miles,” said Chet.
“Professor, will you explain how you take the observation?” asked Andy.
“To be sure, certainly,” was the reply of the scientist. “It is very easy when one knows how. Here is the sextant, shaped, as you can see, like a piece of pie. The curved side has a scale on it, which is just one-sixth of a circle, hence the name of the instrument. Here is a telescope which is adjustable, and here are two glasses, one for the rays of the sun, or a star, and one for the horizon. At sea, I would use the natural horizon, but that is impossible here amongst the ice and snow, and so I use an artificial horizon made of a pan of mercury.
“When I want to take an observation, I watch my chronometer and wait until it is exactly twelve o’clock. Then I point the sextant in such a fashion that the rays of the sun, reflected downward, seem to meet or ‘kiss’ the horizon. As soon as I have the light of the sun in a direct range with the horizon, I use this thumbscrew, which sets the scale below, which, as you see, is divided into degrees, minutes, and seconds. As soon as I have read the scale by means of this magnifying glass, I consult this book I carry, the Ephemeris, or Nautical Almanac, and knowing the altitude of the sun, I readily calculate just where we are located, in degrees, minutes, and seconds north latitude.”
“It’s certainly a great instrument,” said Andy. “I’d like to try it some day.”
“You shall do so,” answered Professor Jeffer, and the very next day he allowed Andy to aid him in getting a true sight, and showed the boy how to work out the necessary calculations, and also make some allowances, – for such observations are not absolutely perfect in themselves.
They had now to advance with more caution than ever, and several days later came to some open water that looked as if it would bar all further progress. The lead was six or seven hundred feet wide, and ran east and west as far as eye could reach.
“Looks as if we were stumped,” murmured Chet. “How are we ever going to get across?”
A consultation was held, and then Barwell Dawson sent one party of Esquimaux to the eastward, and another to the westward, to look for a crossing place.
The Esquimaux were gone for two days, and during that time a fierce snowstorm came up, blotting out the landscape on all sides. It was so cold that the boys could do nothing outside, and were glad enough to crouch in an igloo for warmth. During the snowstorm, more of the dogs became sick, and four of the finest of the animals died.
“Something is wrong with them,” said Barwell Dawson, and had Dr. Slade make an examination. It was then learned that the dogs had been poisoned by eating tainted seal meat. The meat was inspected, and over a hundred pounds thrown away.
When the natives who had been sent out came back, they reported that to the east and the west the lead was wider than ever.
“Any smooth, floating ice?” asked Barwell Dawson.
Yes, some smooth ice had been seen, and the explorer went out the next day to investigate. As a result some large cakes were floated close to the temporary camp, and these were lashed together with walrus thongs.
“What do you intend to do with those?” questioned Professor Jeffer.
“I am going to try to get across to the other side,” answered Barwell Dawson. “We’ll use the flat ice for a ferry.”
“It’s a dangerous piece of business, sir.”
“I know it. But we must do something,” was the firm answer.
Two of the Esquimaux agreed to get on the floating cakes of ice, taking with them one of the teams and a sledge. It was no easy matter to induce the dogs to go aboard, as it might be called, and the natives were a good hour getting started. But once afloat, they crossed the lead without serious danger, and then began the task of getting the rest of the expedition over. This took all of that day, and also the next. On one of the trips an Esquimau went overboard, and Dr. Slade also took an icy bath, but both were quickly rescued, and bundled up in clothing that was dry and warm.
“There, I am glad we are over that lead!” exclaimed Barwell Dawson, when the last of the men and sledges had crossed. “I trust we don’t have any more of the sort to cross.”
“I am afraid we’ll have a great many,” answered Professor Jeffer. “Getting to the North Pole is going to be the hardest kind of a struggle.”
“We’ll get there – if we keep our health, and the provisions last,” said the explorer, confidently.
Once again they turned northward, into that vast region of ice, and snow, and solitude. It was certainly a gigantic undertaking. Would they succeed, or would all their struggles go for naught?
CHAPTER XXVI – ON A FLOATING MASS OF ICE
“One hundred and thirty miles more, Andy!”
“Who said so?”
“Professor Jeffer. He just took an observation,” answered Chet, as he crawled into the igloo and slapped his mittened hands to get them warm.
Andy shook his head slowly. “Chet, it doesn’t look as if we’d make it, does it?”
“Barwell Dawson says we are going to make it, or die in the attempt.”
“Well, I’m just as eager, almost, as he is. But eagerness isn’t going to make these leads close up, and isn’t going to give us extra food and drink.”
“Getting sick of pemmican and walrus meat?”
“Aren’t you?”
“Rather – but there is no use in kicking.”
“Say, do you know what day this is?”
“No.”
“The first of April. Maybe some folks would call us April fools, to try to reach the Pole.”
Here the two boys became silent, for both were too tired and too cold to do much talking.
The last few weeks of traveling had been very bad, – so bad in fact that half of the Esquimaux had been turned back, to make a camp and wait the return of the others. Mr. Camdal had been taken sick, and he had been left behind, and now Dr. Slade was ailing, and so were two of the natives. Sixteen of the dogs had perished, and their bodies had been fed to the other canines.
The hardships had been beyond the power of pen to describe. They had encountered numerous snowstorms, and a cutting west wind had for three days made traveling impossible. The smooth ice had given way to little hills and ridges that battered the sledges frightfully. One more had gone to pieces, and the parts had been used for mending purposes, as before.
The effects of the hardships were beginning to tell on everybody. The boys were thin and hollow-eyed, and when they walked, or, rather, toiled along, their legs felt like lead. To get up any speed was impossible, and if in ten hours’ walking they managed to cover fifteen or twenty miles they thought they were doing well. The glare on the ice and snow also affected them, so that their eyes appeared like little slits. Professor Jeffer had been in danger of having his nose frost-bitten, but the boys had noticed it just in time, and come to the old scientist’s rescue by rubbing the member with soft snow, thus putting the blood again in circulation.
“Well, lads, how do you feel?” asked Barwell Dawson, as he entered the igloo, followed by Professor Jeffer. “Dead tired, I suppose.”
“Tired doesn’t fit it,” answered Chet, with a sickly grin. “I am next-door to being utterly played out.”
“Perhaps I had better leave you two boys behind, while Professor Jeffer and myself, with one sledge, make the final dash.”
“No; now I’ve come so far I’m going to stick it out,” answered Chet, grittily.
“And so am I,” added Andy. “I guess we’ll feel better after a good sleep,” he went on, hopefully.
A few minutes later all sank into a profound slumber, from which they did not awaken until well in the morning. Then the barking of the dogs and the shouting of one of the Esquimaux made them leap up and crawl outside.
“Olalola says the wind has died down,” said Barwell Dawson. “We may as well make the most of it.”
A hasty breakfast was prepared, and inside of half an hour they were again on the way, toiling over ice that was rough in the extreme. They pushed on steadily until noon, when, it being bright sunlight, Professor Jeffer took another observation.
“One hundred and sixteen miles more,” he said, after his calculations were complete. “We are gradually lessening the distance! We shall make it after all!” And his face showed his enthusiasm. To such a scientist as the professor, gaining the Pole meant far more than it did to the boys.
In the middle of the afternoon came another setback. Another lead came into view, broad, and with the water flowing swiftly. At this the Esquimaux shook their heads dismally.
“We cannot go over that,” said one, in his native tongue.
“We must,” answered Barwell Dawson, briefly. With the North Pole so close at hand, he was determined that nothing should keep him from reaching the goal.
The party gathered at the edge of the lead, and there found the ice cracked and uncertain. Andy was with Olalola, who had a sledge drawn now by but six dogs.
Suddenly, as the men were walking up and down the shore looking for some means of crossing the water, there came an ominous cracking. Andy tried to leap back, and so did Olalola, but ere they could do so the ice upon which they and the dogs and sledge were located broke away from the main field, and floated out into the lead.
“Look out, there!” exclaimed Chet, in horror.
“Throw us a rope!” yelled Andy, while Olalola uttered a cry in his native language.
But no rope was handy, and in a few seconds the strong current of the water carried the cake of ice far out into the lead. It still kept its balance, but there was no telling how soon it might turn over and send Andy, the Esquimau, and the dogs to their death.
“Oh, we must save Andy!” screamed Chet. “What can we do?”
“We’ll do all we can,” answered the explorer.
He ran to one of the loads and tore from it a long rope. Then he hurried along the edge of the lead, in the direction whence the current was carrying the flat cake of ice with its human freight.
Andy and Olalola saw the movement, and both understood at once that they must make some sort of a fastening for the rope, should they be able to catch it. With a sharp-pointed knife, Andy picked away a small hole, and in it set a peg taken from the sledge.
While the lad was doing this, Barwell Dawson curled up the rope as if it were a lasso. His outings on the plains now stood him in good stead, and he threw the end of the rope with the skill of a cowboy lassoing cattle. Olalola caught it and slipped it over the peg, and then he and Andy did all they could to hold the peg in the ice.
It now became a question if the explorer could haul the floating ice in, or if the current would be too strong for him. Chet came to his aid, and so did two of the Esquimaux.
“Beware of where you stand!” sang out Chet. “The shore is cracked all along here!”
This was true, and all were in danger of going down. The ice was the most rotten they had yet encountered – why, they could not tell.
Working with care, they at last turned the floating mass shoreward, until it bumped lightly. But just as they did this, the ice at their feet began to give way.
“Jump for it! Don’t wait!” yelled Barwell Dawson, and Andy jumped, and so did Olalola. The latter tried to drive the dogs, but ere he could do so the peg came up, allowing the rope to free itself, and off floated the big cake again, carrying the dogs, sledge, and supplies with it. Andy and Olalola got into water up to their knees, but managed to throw themselves headlong on the firm ice and roll over and over to safety.
“I’m glad to see you safe,” said Mr. Dawson, “but it’s too bad about those dogs and the supplies.”
“Can’t we get them in?” asked Professor Jeffers.
“We can try it.”
They did try it. But just below where they stood the lead widened out, and another lead cut crosswise, so their further progress was barred. They stood on the edge of the ice watching the dogs and sledge disappear around a hill to the north of the lead. The dogs howled dismally, as if knowing they were doomed.
The loss of so many dogs and so much of their outfit sobered the entire party, and Estankawak berated Olalola soundly for allowing the team to get away from him. Estankawak had been faint-hearted for several days, and now he came to Barwell Dawson and advised that all turn back.
“We cannot reach the Big Nail,” said he. “We have not enough food and not enough dogs.” By the “Big Nail” he meant the North Pole.
“We have certainly suffered a severe loss, but I think we can reach the Pole anyway,” answered Mr. Dawson.
“Estankawak wants to go back.”
“Very well, you can go back if you want to, – but you’ll have to go alone.”
This, of course, did not suit the Esquimau at all. He said he wanted the other Esquimaux to go with him, and walked away, grumbling to himself.
“He’ll have to be watched,” said Chet to Andy, when he heard of this talk.
“Right you are,” answered his chum. Andy had not suffered from his adventure, but it must be confessed that he had been badly scared.
On the following morning, while they were still trying to get over the lead, a strong wind came up from the northeast. This began to move the ice on the north shore, and in less than six hours the lead was completely choked up with it. When they looked at this transformation, the boys could scarcely believe their eyesight.
“Now is our chance!” cried Barwell Dawson. “Olalola says it is perfectly safe to cross the ice, although it will be a terribly rough journey.”
They went forward, Estankawak most unwillingly, and inside of two hours left the lead behind them. They now struck ice that was comparatively smooth, so progress became more rapid. By the next day they were within just a hundred miles of their goal.
“We’ll get there!” cried Andy, but in less than ten hours his tune changed, for it commenced to snow furiously, while the wind became a perfect gale. All hands were glad enough to crawl into some hastily-constructed igloos, and even the dogs sought whatever shelter they could find.
They were thus stormbound for several days. To make any move whatever would have been folly, and Barwell Dawson attempted none. Yet he chafed roundly at the delay, the more so as he saw his stock of supplies rapidly diminishing.
“We must go on shorter rations,” said the explorer, and cut down the quantities that very day. This led to increased dissatisfaction on the part of Estankawak, and he conversed earnestly with another of his tribe, Muckaloo by name, but not in the hearing of Olalola.
“He is up to no good, and we must watch him,” whispered Andy to Chet. “Maybe he will try to bolt, and take some of our things with him.”
This was just what Estankawak had in mind to do, and he readily got Muckaloo to join in the scheme. Early in the morning of the next day, when the weather showed signs of clearing, the two Esquimaux crawled out of their hut and sneaked over to one of the sledges and harnessed up the team of six dogs. On the sledge they placed such of the stores as were handy.
The boys were watching them, and Andy immediately notified Barwell Dawson.
“Going to mutiny, eh?” cried the explorer, and snatching up a shotgun he ran outside without waiting to don his fur coat. He saw Estankawak and Muckaloo at the sledge, just ready to drive off.
“Stop, you rascals!” he roared, in the native tongue. “Go a step, and I’ll shoot you down!”
The Esquimaux were startled, for they had not dreamed that any one outside of themselves was stirring in the camp. They looked at Barwell Dawson, and at the leveled shotgun, and Estankawak dropped the whip he had raised, while Muckaloo hung his head.
“You are going to stay with us,” went on the explorer. “If you want to leave, you must go without any of our things.”
“It is death to try to reach the Big Nail,” growled Estankawak.
“It will be death if you try to run off with any of my things,” replied Barwell Dawson, grimly. “Go back to your igloo, and stay there until I call you.” And at the point of the shotgun he made the mutinous natives retire to one of the ice huts.
