The Eskimo received the explanation with dignified gravity, and a faint smile played on his lips as he glanced approvingly at Benjy, for he loved a jest, and was keenly alive to a touch of humour.
What power is imprisoned in the machinery? asked our Eskimo through the interpreter.
What power? repeated the Captain with a puzzled look, why, its boiling watersteam. Here he tried to give a clear account of the nature and power and application of steam, but, not being gifted with capacity for lucid explanation, and the mind of Anders being unaccustomed to such matters, the result was that the brain of Chingatok was filled with ideas that were fitted rather to amaze than to instruct him.
After making the tour of the vessel, the party again passed the engine hatch. Chingatok touched the interpreter quietly, and said in a low, grave tone, Tell Blackbeard, (thus he styled the Captain), to let the Power yell again!
Anders glanced up in the giants grave countenance with a look of amused surprise. He understood him, and whispered to the Captain, who smiled intelligently, and, turning to his son, said
Do it again, Benjy. Give it em strong.
Never before did that lad obey his father with such joyous alacrity. In another instant the whistle shrieked, and the escape-valve hissed ten times more furiously than before. Up went the Eskimothree feet or moreas if in convulsions, and away went Eemerk to the stern, over which he dived, swam to the floe, leaped on his sledge, cracked his whip, and made for home on the wings of terror. Doubtless an evil conscience helped his cowardice.
Meanwhile Chingatok laughed, despite his struggles to be grave. This revealed the trick to some of his quick-witted and humour-loving companions, who at once burst into loud laughter. Even Oblooria dismissed her fears and smiled. In this restored condition they were taken down to the cabin and fed sumptuously.
That night, as Chingatok sat beside his mother, busy with a seals rib, he gradually revealed to her the wonders he had seen.
The white men are very wise, mother.
So you have said four times, my son.
But you cannot understand it.
But my son can make me understand, said Toolooha, helping the amiable giant to a second rib.
Chingatok gazed at his little mother with a look of solemnity that evidently perplexed her. She became restless under it, and wiped her forehead uneasily with the flap at the end of her tail. The youth seemed about to speak, but he only sighed and addressed himself to the second rib, over which he continued to gaze while he masticated.
My thoughts are big, mother, he said, laying down the bare bone.
That may well be, for so is your head, my son, she replied, gently.
I know not how to begin, mother.
Another rib may open your lips, perhaps, suggested the old woman, softly.
True; give me one, said Chingatok.
The third rib seemed to have the desired effect, for, while busy with it, he began to give his parent a graphic account of the yacht and its crew, and it was really interesting to note how correctly he described all that he understood of what he had seen. But some of the things he had partly failed to comprehend, and about these he was vague.
And they have aa Power, mother, shut up in a hard thing, so that it cant get out unless they let it, and it drives the big canoe through the water. It is very strongterrible!
Is it a devil? asked Toolooha.
No, it is not alive. It is dead. It is that, he pointed with emphasis to a pot hanging over the lamp out of which a little steam was issuing, and looked at his mother with awful solemnity. She returned the look with something of incredulity.
Yes, mother, the Power is not a beast. It lives not, yet it drives the white mans canoe, which is as big as a little iceberg, and it whistles; it shrieks; it yells!
A slightly sorrowful look rested for a moment on Tooloohas benign countenance. It was evident that she suspected her son either of derangement, or having forsaken the paths of truth. But it passed like a summer cloud.
Tell me more, she said, laying her hand affectionately on the huge arm of Chingatok, who had fallen into a contemplative mood, and, with hands clasped over one knee, sat gazing upwards.
Before he could reply the heart of Toolooha was made to bound by a shriek more terrible than she had ever before heard or imagined.
Chingatok caught her by the wrist, held up a finger as if to impose silence, smiled brightly, and listened.
Again the shriek was repeated with prolonged power.
Tell me, my son, gasped Toolooha, is Oblooriaare the people safe? Why came you to me alone?
The little sister and the people are safe. I came alone to prevent your being taken by surprise. Did I not say that it could shriek and yell? This is the white mans big canoe.
Dropping the old womans hand as he spoke, Chingatok darted into the open air with the agility of a Polar bear, and Toolooha followed with the speed of an Arctic hare.
Chapter Four.
A Catastrophe and a Bold Decision
Two days after her arrival at the temporary residence of the northern Eskimos, the steam yacht Whitebear, while close to the shore, was beset by ice, so that she could neither advance nor retreat. Everywhere, as far as the eye could reach, the sea was covered with hummocks and bergs and fields of ice, so closely packed that there was not a piece of open water to be seen, with the exception of one small basin a few yards ahead of the lead or lane of water in which the vessel had been imprisoned.
No chance of escaping from this, I fear, for a long time, said Alf Vandervell to his brother, as they stood near the wheel, looking at the desolate prospect.
It seems quite hopeless, said Leo, with, however, a look of confidence that ill accorded with his words.
I do believe we are frozen in for the winter, said Benjy Vane, coming up at the moment.
There speaks ignorance, said the Captain, whose head appeared at the cabin hatchway. If any of you had been in these regions before, you would have learned that nothing is so uncertain as the action of pack ice. At one time you may be hard and fast, so that you couldnt move an inch. A few hours after, the set of the currents may loosen the pack, and open up lanes of water through which you may easily make your escape. Sometimes it opens up so as to leave almost a clear sea in a few hours.
But it is pretty tight packed just now, father, and looks wintry-like, doesnt it? said Benjy in a desponding tone.
Looks! boy, ay, but things are not what they seem hereaway. You saw four mock-suns round the real one yesterday, didnt you? and the day before you saw icebergs floating in the air, eh?
True, father, but these appearances were deceptive, whereas this ice, which looks so tightly packed, is a reality.
That is so, lad, but it is not set fast for the winter, though it looks like it. Well, doctor, added the Captain, turning towards a tall cadaverous man who came on deck just then with the air and tread of an invalid, how goes it with you? Better, I hope?
He asked this with kindly interest as he laid his strong hand on the sick mans shoulder; but the doctor shook his head and smiled sadly.
It is a great misfortune to an expedition, Captain, when the doctor himself falls sick, he said, sitting down on the skylight with a sigh.
Come, come, cheer up, doctor, returned the Captain, heartily, dont be cast down; well all turn doctors for the occasion, and nurse you well in spite of yourself.
Come, come, cheer up, doctor, returned the Captain, heartily, dont be cast down; well all turn doctors for the occasion, and nurse you well in spite of yourself.
Ill keep up all heart, Captain, you may depend ont, as long as two of my bones will stick together, butwell, to change the subject; what are you going to do now?
Just all that can be done in the circumstances, replied the Captain. You see, we cannot advance over ice either with sail or steam, but theres a basin just ahead which seems a little more secure than that in which we lie. Ill try to get into it. There is nothing but a neck of ice between us and it, which I think I could cut by charging in under full steam, and there seems a faint gleam of something far ahead, which encourages me. Tell the steward to fetch my glasses, Benjy.
Butterface! shouted the boy.
Yis, massa.
Fetch the Captains glasses, please.
Yis, massa.
A pair of large binoculars were brought up by a huge negro, whose name was pre-eminently unsuggestive of his appearance.
After a long steady gaze at the horizon, the Captain shut up the glass with an air of determination, and ordered the engineer to get up full steam, and the crew to be ready with the ice-poles.
There was a large berg at the extremity of the lakelet of open water into which Captain Vane wished to break. It was necessary to keep well out of the way of that berg. The Captain trusted chiefly to his screw, but got out the ice-poles in case they should be required.
When all the men were stationed, the order was given to go ahead full steam. The gallant little yacht charged the neck of ice like a living creature, hit it fair, cut right through, and scattered the fragments right and left as she sailed majestically into the lakelet beyond. The shock was severe, but no harm was done, everything on board having been made as strong as possible, and of the very best material, for a voyage in ice-laden seas.
An unforeseen event followed, however, which ended in a series of most terrible catastrophes. The neck of ice through which they had broken had acted as a check on the pressure of the great body of the floe, and it was no sooner removed than the heavy mass began to close in with slow but irresistible power, compelling the little vessel to steam close up to the icebergso close that some of the upper parts actually overhung the deck.
They were slowly forced into this dangerous position. With breathless anxiety the Captain and crew watched the apparently gentle, but really tremendous grinding of the ice against the vessels side. Even the youngest on board could realise the danger. No one moved, for nothing whatever could be done.
Everything depends, under God, on the ice easing off before we are crushed, said the Captain.
As he spoke, the timbers of the yacht seemed to groan under the pressure; then there was a succession of loud cracks, and the vessel was thrust bodily up the sloping sides of the berg. While in this position, with the bow high and dry, a mass of ice was forced against the stern-post, and the screw-propeller was snapped off as if it had been made of glass.
Poor Captain Vanes heart sank as if he had received his death-blow, for he knew that the yacht was now, even in the event of escaping, reduced to an ordinary vessel dependent on its sails. The shock seemed to have shaken the berg itself, for at that moment a crashing sound was heard overhead. The terror-stricken crew looked up, and for one moment a pinnacle like a church spire was seen to flash through the air right above them. It fell with an indescribable roar close alongside, deluging the decks with water. There was a momentary sigh of relief, which, however, was chased away by a succession of falling masses, varying from a pound to a ton in weight, which came down on the deck like cannon-shots, breaking the topmasts, and cutting to pieces much of the rigging. Strange to say, none of the men were seriously injured, though many received bruises more or less severe.
During this brief but thrilling period, the brothers Vandervell and Benjy Vane crouched close together beside the port bulwarks, partially screened from the falling ice by the mizzen shrouds. The Captain stood on the quarter-deck, quite exposed, and apparently unconscious of danger, the picture of despair.
It cant last long, sighed poor Benjy, looking solemnly up at the vast mass of the bluish-white berg, which hung above them as if ready to fall.
Presently the pressure ceased, then the ice eased off, and in a few minutes the Whitebear slid back into the sea, a pitiable wreck! Now had come the time for action.
Out poles, my lads, and shove her off the berg! was the sharp order.
Every one strained as if for life at the ice-poles, and slowly forced the yacht away from the dreaded berg. It mattered not that they were forcing her towards a rocky shore. Any fate would be better than being crushed under a mountain of ice.
But the danger was not yet past. No sooner had they cleared the berg, and escaped from that form of destruction, than the ice began again to close in, and this time the vessel was nipped with such severity, that some of her principal timbers gave way. Finally, her back was broken, and the bottom forced in.
So, exclaimed the Captain, with a look of profound grief, our voyage in the Whitebear, lads, has come to an end. All that we can do now is to get the boats and provisions, and as much of the cargo as we can, safe on the ice. And sharps the word, for when the floes ease off, the poor little yacht will certainly go to the bottom.
No, massa, said the negro steward, stepping on deck at that moment, we cant go to de bottom, cause wes dare a-ready!
What dye mean, Butterface?
Jus what me say, replied the steward, with a look of calm resignation. Is bin blow, an seed de rocks stickin troo de bottom. Ders one de size ob a jolly-boats bow comed right troo my pantry, an knock all de crockery to smash, an de best teapot, hes so flat he wouldnt know hisself in a lookin-glass.
It turned out to be as Butterface said. The pack had actually thrust the little vessel on a shoal, which extended out from the headland off which the catastrophe occurred, and there was therefore no fear of her sinking.
Well, weve reason to be thankful for that, at all events, said the Captain, with an attempt to look cheerful; come, lads, lets to work. Whatever our future course is to be, our first business is to get the boats and cargo out of danger.
With tremendous energybecause action brought relief to their overstrained feelingsthe crew of the ill-fated yacht set to work to haul the boats upon the grounded ice. The tide was falling, so that a great part of the most valuable part of the cargo was placed in security before the rising tide interrupted the work.
This was fortunate, for, when the water reached a certain point the ice began to move, and the poor little vessel was so twisted about that they dared not venture on board of her.
That nightif we may call it night in a region where the sun never quite went downthe party encamped on the north-western coast of Greenland, in the lee of a huge cliff just beyond which the tongue of a mighty glacier dipped into the sea. For convenience the party divided into two, with a blazing fire for each, round which the castaways circled, conversing in subdued, sad tones while supper was being prepared.
It was a solemn occasion, and a scene of indescribable grandeur, with the almost eternal glacier of Greenlandthe great Humboldt glaciershedding its bergs into the dark blue sea, the waters of which had by that time been partially cleared to the northward. On the left was the weird pack and its thousand grotesque forms, with the wreck in its iron grasp; on the right the perpendicular cliffs, and the bright sky over all, with the smoke of the campfires rising into it from the foreground.