Kitabı oku: «First at the North Pole: or, Two Boys in the Arctic Circle», sayfa 9

CHAPTER XVII – AN ENCOUNTER WITH ICEBERGS

“Off at last, Chet!”

“Yes, and your Uncle Si didn’t stop you, either!” responded Chet, with a broad grin.

“If only we could have seen him when he got to the cabin!” exclaimed Andy. “I’ll wager he was mad!”

“Well, boys, it will be a long while before you see the United States again,” remarked Barwell Dawson as he came up. “So use your eyes for all they are worth.”

“Just what we are doing,” answered Andy.

The Ice King had cast off her lines quarter of an hour before, and a steam tug had headed her out of the harbor of Rathley. Now, under the steam of her own powerful engines, she was heading straight out into the Atlantic Ocean.

It was an ideal day, and the boys were in the best of spirits, even though they were leaving their native land for the first time. Chet was full of the hope that in some manner he would hear something about the missing whaler and his father.

The Ice King was loaded “to the brim,” as Andy expressed it. Below, every available space was filled with provisions and other necessities, and coal, and on deck many bags of coal were piled up amidships.

“To get through the ice, the ship must have a good head of steam on,” said Mr. Dawson. “And to have that, we’ve got to have coal, or oil.”

“How soon do you suppose we’ll strike ice?” questioned Chet.

“Oh, any time after we round the coast of Nova Scotia.”

At the last moment some extra supplies had come on board, and these were still awaiting proper distribution. The boys watched land slowly disappear in the blue haze of distance, and then set to work to assist in making everything ship-shape.

“It will seem queer to live on a ship, I’m thinking,” said Chet.

“I hope we don’t get sick,” answered his chum.

“Oh, I don’t think we shall.”

“Don’t be too sure.”

The boys had already become acquainted with the other members of the party, Dr. John Slade, a quiet but friendly gentleman, who had once spent two years in lower Greenland, and Mr. Samuel Camdal, an old hunter, who had shot with Barwell Dawson in the far West and in Africa. Mr. Camdal could tell some famous stories, – of hunting, and of narrow escapes from wild animals, – and the lads felt that he would make good company during the days when there was not much to do.

It was a real pleasure for the lads to put their stateroom in order. Although the room was small, it had a homelike air about it that was pleasing. Neither lad was burdened with excess baggage, so they were not as crowded as they might otherwise have been.

The course of the Ice King was to be up the coast of Nova Scotia and Newfoundland, and then into Davis Strait, to Baffin Bay. The boys had studied the chart thoroughly, for a sea trip was altogether a novelty to them.

“Shall we stop anywhere along the coast of Greenland?” asked Chet, of Barwell Dawson.

“Yes, I have arranged to stop at Upernivik, for an extra supply of coal which a collier from the lower coast is to bring up for us.”

“How long do you suppose we’ll be at Upernivik?”

“Two or three days at least – perhaps a week.”

“And can Andy and I go ashore?”

“Certainly. But it is only a small settlement, and you won’t find much of interest.”

“I wanted to make inquiries about the Betsey Andrews.”

“Oh, I see. Well, I’ll help you, Chet. But don’t be too sanguine. You may not hear a word of the whaler.”

“I want to do all I can to hear from my father.”

“I don’t blame you. I’d be that way myself, if my father were missing.”

In a few hours the Ice King was out on the broad Atlantic. The long swells made the steamer roll a good deal, and soon the two boys felt this in their legs, and then in their stomachs. Each looked at the other in a woe-begone manner.

“What’s the matter?” asked Andy.

“Nothing,” returned Chet, manfully striving to overcome a feeling he could not subdue. “What’s the matter with you?”

“Nothing much, only – I – I feel sort of crawly inside.”

“You’re seasick, Andy!”

“How about yourself?” retorted Andy, and he made a movement toward the side of the steamer.

“I guess I – I am – with – you!” gasped Chet, and also ran for the rail.

After that, the two chums lost all interest in living for several hours. They felt as miserable as a person with a dose of seasickness can feel. They remained on deck for a while, and then sought the seclusion of their stateroom. Here Dr. Slade came to their assistance.

“Two more down, eh?” said the physician, with a little smile. “Well, I’ll do what I can to fix you up,” and he brought forth his medicine case.

“Wh – who else is sick?” asked Andy. In seasickness, “misery loves company” every time.

“Mr. Camdal and Ben Haven, the first mate.”

“The first mate?” queried Chet, between his groans. “Do sailors get sick?”

“Some of them do. I know the captain of an ocean liner who has crossed the Atlantic forty or fifty times. He told me confidentially that he is sick about every third or fourth voyage. It’s just the condition his stomach happens to be in.”

“Then it isn’t so – so babyish after all,” said Chet, and that gave him a grain of comfort.

The doctor did what little he could for the two lads, and by noon the next day they felt quite like themselves. Let me add, that during the remainder of the voyage they were not seasick again.

Although well weighted by her heavy cargo, and by the extra planking on her sides, and extra bracings inside, the Ice King made good time on her trip. It was summer, yet as the vessel turned northward it became colder daily, and soon the boys were glad enough to take Barwell Dawson’s advice and don heavier underwear. Then, as it grew still colder, they put on thicker outer garments also.

“I think we’ll see some icebergs soon,” announced Captain Williamson, one evening. “I can feel ’em in the air,” and he threw back his head to take in a deep breath. Many old sailors who have been in northern waters affirm that they can often “smell” icebergs before the bergs can be seen.

The boys retired as usual that night, and slept soundly until about five o’clock in the morning, when a tremendous thump on the vessel’s side aroused them and threw Chet sprawling on the floor.

“For goodness’ sake! what’s that!” gasped the lad, as he scrambled up.

Before Andy could speak there came another tremendous thump, which added to their alarm. A series of smaller thumps followed. On deck they heard Captain Williamson giving a series of rapid-fire orders.

“I think I know what’s up!” cried Andy, at last, as he donned his clothing with all possible speed. “We’ve struck some floating ice.”

“That must be it,” answered Chet, and he, too, began to dress with dispatch.

When the youths reached the deck, a cry of astonishment burst from their lips. It seemed as if during the night the Ice King had entered another world. On all sides were large and small cakes of floating ice, and in the distance half a dozen big icebergs loomed up.

“Looks as if we were getting to the North Pole fast,” remarked Andy, grimly.

“Phew! but it’s cold!” added Chet, as he buttoned his clothing tightly about him.

“Well, boys, how do you like this?” sang out Barwell Dawson, as he noticed them.

“Got into it kind of sudden like, didn’t we?” asked Chet.

“I think so, although the captain said last night to expect it.”

“Shall we have this all the way up now?” asked Andy.

“Hardly. I think, and so does Captain Williamson, that there is clear water beyond.”

The captain was on deck with his glass, scanning the ocean ahead anxiously. Several large icebergs appeared to be drifting directly toward the steamer, and he gave orders that the course be changed slightly.

“The Ice King won’t mind the small ice,” said he, “but there is no sense in trying the big bergs, yet. We’ll get all we want of that later.”

“Right you are, sir,” responded Barwell Dawson. “Don’t take any chances when they are not necessary.”

After watching the ice for a while the boys went below for breakfast. At the table they sat down with Professor Jeffer and Dr. Slade.

“I am going to try to get some photographs of the icebergs,” said the professor. “I trust we get close enough to them to get some good views.”

“They ought to make good pictures,” responded the doctor.

All the while the boys were eating, the small cakes of ice thumped against the sides of the steamer. But this did no damage, although, as the professor explained, there was danger of some ice getting caught in the propeller.

“And we can’t afford to have that damaged,” he added.

When the boys came on deck again, they saw that the Ice King was much closer to several of the large icebergs. In fact, the steamer appeared to be picking her way through a veritable field of floating ice.

“It is much thicker than the captain expected,” said Barwell Dawson, gravely.

“Is there any danger?” asked Andy, quickly.

“There is always danger when so much ice is floating about. But we hope to get through all right.”

The lads could readily see that not only Mr. Dawson, but also the captain, mate, and sailors were much concerned. Captain Williamson still had his glass in use, and was scanning the sea ahead.

“I think we can make it,” he said to Mr. Dawson. “But it is going to be a tight squeeze.”

“Well, we don’t want such a tight squeeze that we get our ribs stove in,” answered the explorer.

“Are we going to pass between the icebergs yonder?” asked Chet.

“We’ll have to – to reach the clear sea beyond,” answered the captain.

The speed of the steamer had been reduced, and the course again changed. They were pushing away from one of the big bergs that seemed to tower up into the sky like some giant of the polar regions.

“If that iceberg hit us, it would knock us to flinders,” was Chet’s comment, as he viewed the oncoming mass.

On one side of the ship were the icebergs, and on the other the floating cakes, the latter growing thicker every minute. The Ice King was turned into the floating cakes, which thumped and bumped loudly on the bow and sides. Then came an unexpected crashing from the stern.

“What’s that?” cried the mate, who was at the wheel, steering under Captain Williamson’s directions.

“Ice in the propeller!” answered a sailor.

As he spoke the engine stopped, and in a twinkling the steamer swung around until her bow pointed directly toward the big iceberg.

“Look! look!” yelled Andy. “We are going to be hit, sure!”

“If we are, we are doomed!” echoed Chet.

Before anything could be done the big iceberg came drifting on them, slowly and majestically, a very mountain of crystal-like whiteness. So terrible was it that it fascinated the boys, who could do nothing but stare in commingled wonder and horror. An upper mass of the iceberg hung over the top, as if ready to fall and crush the steamer beneath it.

A moment passed – to the lads it seemed an eternity, – and then the big iceberg scraped the side. There was a strange grinding and crashing, and some pieces of ice came showering on the deck. Then the steamer began to rock, and some of the shrouds became entangled in the mass that overhung the deck. The Ice King commenced to move backward.

“We are being carried along by the iceberg!” cried Barwell Dawson, and his words told the truth of the awful situation.

CHAPTER XVIII – SHOOTING WILD GEESE

It was certainly a time of extreme peril, and the boys realized it fully as well as did the men. The steamer was caught in the grip of the big iceberg, and the deck was directly beneath an overhanging portion that might at any time break off and crush the vessel and all on board.

Captain Williamson had run aft to learn what could be done with the propeller, and he had already told the mate to get the sailors out with fenders to save the ship as much as possible from chafing on the side of the berg.

“The loose ice on the other side helps to keep us against the big berg,” said Barwell Dawson.

“I have tried to get some pictures, but the big iceberg is too close,” came from Professor Jeffer, who was as cool as if nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

“Well, we’re going to get away from it mighty quick, – if we can,” answered Mr. Camdal, pointedly. The close quarters did not suit him any better than it suited Mr. Dawson and the boys.

To clear the propeller a man had to be hoisted over the stern in a sling. He carried with him a pickpole, and with this dug out the cake which had become caught in the blades of the propeller.

This work had hardly been accomplished when another grinding sound came from the big iceberg, and a shower of small ice came down on the forecastle, knocking out several lights of glass. Andy was struck on the head and hurled flat.

“Oh, Andy, are you hurt?” cried Chet, in alarm, as he rushed to his chum’s assistance.

“Not much, but that was a pretty good crack,” was Andy’s reply, as he felt his head where a lump was rapidly rising.

“You boys had better go below,” said Barwell Dawson. “You can’t do anything up here, and you may get a worse dose next time.”

But the lads were loath to retire, and so lingered on the deck, but took good care to keep out of the way of the ice that fell a little later.

Finding that the propeller would now work, Captain Williamson gave orders for full speed astern. As soon as the engines started there was more crashing of ice, the small stuff being ground down under the ship, and the ice of the pinnacle breaking off along the shrouds. Everybody on deck had to get out of the way, for the deck took on the appearance of “an ice-house upset,” as Chet put it, big chunks of the frozen material lying in all directions.

“Hurrah! we are leaving the big iceberg behind!” cried Andy, a few minutes later, and his words proved true.

“I can see clear water ahead!” called out Professor Jeffer, shortly afterwards, and then he turned, to get the photographs he wanted of the big iceberg.

The report concerning open water was correct, and, having left the vicinity of the big iceberg, Captain Williamson had the steamer steered in something of a big circle. Thus they avoided all but the small ice. The latter, however, thumped and bumped on the bow and sides as strongly as ever, and once there came a shock that threw everybody on the deck headlong.

“I hope that doesn’t damage us any,” observed Andy, when this new scare was over.

“It may start some of the seams,” answered Barwell Dawson, “although the vessel was reënforced to withstand just such knocks.”

Inside of an hour the Ice King had passed all the big icebergs and a large portion of the floating cakes. Clear blue water was ahead, for which all on board were thankful.

“I didn’t expect this, so far south,” said Captain Williamson, after making a tour of the ship, and having had the deck cleaned up. “It is unusual.”

“I know it,” answered Barwell Dawson. “I am thankful we didn’t run into the big iceberg at night.”

“Yes, darkness would have made the situation much worse.”

“Have we started any of the ship’s seams?” asked Dr. Slade.

“Not as far as I have been able to discover.”

The boys went to the forecastle to see what damage had been done there, and found the ship’s carpenter putting in some new lights of glass. One sailor had received a black eye from a chunk of falling ice, but otherwise little bodily harm had resulted.

“Well, I call that a narrow escape,” said Andy, after the excitement was over.

“So do I,” responded Chet. “I don’t want another such experience.”

“You will have to go through harder things than that up north,” said Barwell Dawson, who overheard the talk.

“We’ll be prepared then,” answered Andy. “This wasn’t expected.”

“I am afraid you boys don’t realize what you are up against,” went on the hunter and explorer. “We are going to face many perils in the polar regions. If you feel you don’t want to go further, you can leave us when we get to Upernivik.”

“No! no! we want to see this thing through, perils or no perils,” cried Andy, hastily.

“Indeed we do!” added Chet. “I guess you’ll find we can stand as much as anybody after we get used to it.”

Late that afternoon the steamer came in sight of a large flock of wild geese. Professor Jeffer calculated that there must be thousands of them, and ran for his camera, to take some snap-shots.

“Can’t we do a little shooting?” asked Chet, of Mr. Dawson. “They are heading this way.”

Permission was granted, and both boys rushed below for shotguns. When they came up, the geese were flying almost directly over the Ice King, uttering their strange cries as they did so.

It did not take Andy and Chet long to get into action, and both shotguns spoke up at almost the same time. Each youth fired twice in rapid succession. The geese were so thick they could not help but strike some of them, and three came fluttering down on the deck of the vessel.

“Not a bad haul,” was Barwell Dawson’s comment. “Now you can have roast goose stuffed with onions for tomorrow’s dinner.”

“And we’ll invite all hands to join us,” answered Chet, gaily. “I guess there will be enough to go around.”

“I don’t know about this shooting birds from the ship,” said Captain Williamson, in a low voice. “Some of the sailors don’t believe in that sort of thing. They think it brings bad luck.”

“What do you think?” asked Chet.

“Oh, I am not superstitious,” responded the commander.

The master of the vessel was right – some of his hands were very superstitious – and these deplored the killing of the geese, and refused to touch any of the meat when it was cooked.

“We’ll have trouble, see if we don’t,” said one sailor.

“Maybe it will sink us,” said another, with a serious shake of his head. Then they muttered among themselves, and cast ugly glances at Andy and Chet.

“Too bad,” whispered Chet to his chum. “If I had known the sailors would take it so seriously, I’d not have shot those geese.”

“Oh, the affair will soon blow over,” was Andy’s answer. But his surmise did not prove correct.

In the morning the boys heard that the Ice King had sprung several leaks. The captain had had the well-hole sounded, and had ordered the pumps started.

“The icebergs and the floating cakes did it,” said Barwell Dawson. “I was hopeful we would escape, but it seems not.”

“What are you going to do?” asked Andy.

“I don’t know yet – we’ll see how bad the leaks are.”

The ship’s carpenter was below, examining the seams, and now Captain Williamson and Barwell Dawson joined him. A thorough examination was effected, and when the party came on deck again they were talking earnestly.

“It’s pretty bad, I guess,” said Andy to Chet.

A consultation took place in the cabin, between the captain and the explorer, and at the conclusion the course of the vessel was changed.

“Instead of heading for Upernivik we are going to put in at Holstenborg for repairs,” explained Barwell Dawson to Professor Jeffer and the others. “I am sorry for the delay, but it cannot be helped. The ice must have hit us harder than we thought.”

“Well, the delay won’t worry me,” answered the scientist, calmly. “It will give me a chance to see something of another part of Greenland.”

“Where is Holstenborg?” questioned Chet.

“It is on the western coast of Greenland, about four hundred and fifty miles below Upernivik. It is not much of a place, but Captain Williamson thinks it would be unwise to attempt to reach Upernivik in our present condition.”

“Well, I don’t care if we do land further down the coast,” said Chet, thinking that here would be another chance to make inquiries concerning the lost whaler.

It soon became whispered around that the Ice King was leaking badly. Some of the hands took the matter calmly, but others were excited.

“It’s because those geese were shot,” cried one sailor. “It was wrong to do it, and I said so.”

“Those boys ought to be heaved overboard,” said another.

“Right you are,” answered the tar who had first found fault.

Some of this talk presently reached the ears of Ben Haven, the mate, and watching his chance, he came up to where Chet and Andy were standing amidships.

“I want to tell you lads something,” said he in a low voice.

“What is it?” asked Chet.

“If I were you boys, I’d not walk forward for the present,” went on Ben Haven. “Some of the sailors are down on you for killing those geese. Better keep out of their way until we reach port – which will be tomorrow morning.”

“Why, do you think they’d try to – to harm us?” asked Chet.

“They might – if matters get worse with the ship. Some sailors are awfully headstrong when they get frightened.”

Chet and Andy promised to heed the warning, although both were inclined to laugh at it. They kept away from the forecastle, and it was not until after supper that one of the sailors came near them. It was then reported that the steamer was leaking worse than before, and the pumps were kept going constantly.

“You boys are responsible for this,” said the sailor. He was a tall, thin individual, who rejoiced in the name of Pep Loggermore.

“What do you mean?” demanded Chet, stiffly.

“You know well enough what I mean,” growled the tar. “If we go to the bottom, there won’t be nobody to blame but you!”

“That’s nonsense,” broke in Andy. “The ice started the ship’s seams – we had nothing to do with it.”

“You shot them geese, and – ”

“Oh, that’s foolishness!” cried Chet. “We don’t want to hear it. A man with sense ought to know better than to talk that way.”

“I know what I am talking about,” grumbled Pep Loggermore.

“You go on about your business,” said Andy, sharply.

Loggermore was about to argue some more, when Captain Williamson put in an appearance. He slouched off, but when out of sight, turned and shook his fist at the youths.

“I ain’t going to sail with no such fellers as you,” he muttered to himself. “And I don’t think the other men will want to sail with you, either. If we ever get ashore alive, we’ll see to it that you two fools don’t come aboard again!”

“What did that fellow want of you?” demanded the captain, of the chums.

“Oh, it wasn’t much,” answered Andy, evasively. He did not want to get Loggermore into trouble.

“Did he threaten you?”

“He didn’t like it, because we shot the geese,” said Chet.

“What tomfoolery!” muttered the captain. “Well, if he bothers you again, let me know, and I’ll teach him to mind his own business.”

“What about the leaks, Captain?” asked Andy, to change the subject.

“They are pretty bad, but I hope to reach port without serious trouble,” was the reply.

But the look on the face of the commander of the Ice King showed that he was greatly worried.