A GALE AND A NARROW ESCAPE
This is a world of alternations.
We need not turn aside to prove that. The calm
with which the voyage of our discoverers began lasted
about four days and nights, during which period they
advanced sometimes slowly under oars, sometimes more
or less rapidly under kites if we may so
express it according to the state of the
wind.
And, during all that time the discipline
of two and two at watch, or at sleep, if
not at work was rigidly kept up. For
none knew better than Captain Vane the benefit of
discipline, and the demoralising effect of its absence,
especially in trying circumstances. It is but
just to add that he had no difficulty in enforcing
his laws. It is right also to state that the
women were not required to conform, even although they
were accustomed to hard labour and willing to work
as much as required. In all three boats the bow
was set apart as the women’s quarters, and when
Toolooha, Oblooria or Tekkona showed symptoms of a
desire to go to sleep (there was no retiring
for the night in these latitudes) a blanket
stretched on two oars cut their quarters off from those
of the men, and maintained the dignity of the sex.
But soon the serene aspect of nature
changed. Grey clouds overspread the hitherto
sunny sky. Gusts of wind came sweeping over the
sea from time to time, and signs of coming storm became
so evident that the Captain gave orders to make all
snug and prepare for dirty weather.
“You see, lads,” he said,
when the three boats were abreast, and the kites had
been furled, “we don’t know what may happen
to us now. Nobody in the world has had any experience
of these latitudes. It may come on to blow twenty-ton
Armstrongs instead of great guns, for all we know
to the contrary. The lightning may be sheet
and fork mixed instead of separate for any light we’ve
got on the subject, and it may rain whales and walruses
instead of cats and dogs; so it behoves us to be ready.”
“That’s true, father,”
said Benjy, “but it matters little to me, for
I’ve made my will. Only I forgot to leave
the top with the broken peg and the rusty penknife
to Rumty Swillpipe; so if you survive me and get home
on a whale’s back or otherwise you’ll
know what to do.”
“This is not a time for jesting,
Ben,” said Alf rather seriously.
“Did I say it was?” inquired Ben, with
a surprised look.
Alf deigned no reply, and Butterface
laughed, while he and the others set about executing
the Captain’s orders.
The arrangements made in these india-rubber
boats for bad weather were very simple and complete.
After the lading in each had been snugly arranged,
so as to present as flat a surface on the top as possible,
a waterproof sheet was drawn over all, and its edges
made fast to the sides of the boat, by means of tags
and loops which were easily fastened and detached.
As each sheet overhung its boat, any water that might
fall upon it was at once run off. This, of course,
was merely put on to protect the cargo and any one
who chose to take shelter under it. The boat
being filled with air required no such sheet, because
if filled to overflowing it would still have floated.
All round this sheet ran a strong cord for the crew,
who sat outside of it as on a raft, to lay hold of
if the waves should threaten to wash them off.
There were also various other ropes attached to it
for the same purpose, and loops of rope served for
rowlocks.
When all had been arranged, those
whose duty it was to rest leaned comfortably against
the lumps caused by inequalities of the cargo, while
the others took to their oars.
“It’s coming!” cried
Benjy, about half-an-hour after all had been prepared.
And unquestionably it was coming.
The boy’s quick eyes had detected a line on
the southern horizon, which became gradually broader
and darker as it rose until it covered the heavens.
At the same time the indigo ripple caused by a rushing
mighty wind crept steadily over the sea. As
it neared the boats the white crests of breaking waves
were seen gleaming sharply in the midst of the dark
blue.
“Clap the women under hatches,”
shouted the Captain, with more good sense than refinement.
Benjy, Butterface, and Anders at the
word lifted a corner of their respective sheets.
Obedient Toolooha, Oblooria, and Tekkona bent their
meek heads and disappeared: The sheets were refastened,
and the men, taking their places, held on to the cords
or life-lines. It was an anxious moment.
No one could guess how the boats would behave under
the approaching trial.
“Oars out,” cried the Captain, “we
must run before it.”
A hiss, which had been gradually increasing
as the squall drew near, broke into a kind of roar,
and wind and waves rushed upon them as the men bent
their backs to the oars with all their might.
It was soon found that the boats had
so little hold of the water that the wind and oars
combined carried them forward so fast as to decrease
considerably the danger of being whelmed by a falling
wave. These waves increased every moment in
size, and their crests were so broken and cut off
by the gale that the three boats, instead of appearing
as they had hitherto done the only solid objects in
the scene, were almost lost to sight in the chaos
of black waves and driving foam. Although they
tried their best to keep close together they failed,
and each soon became ignorant of the position of the
others. The last that they saw of Alf’s
boat was in the hollow between two seas like a vanishing
cormorant or a northern diver. Leo was visible
some time longer. He was wielding the steering-oar
in an attitude of vigorous caution, while his Eskimos
were pulling as if for their lives. An enormous
wave rose behind them, curled over their heads and
appeared ready to overwhelm them, but the sturdy rowers
sent the boat forward, and the broken crest passed
under them. The next billow was still larger.
Taken up though he was with his own boat the Captain
found time to glance at them with horror.
“They’re gone!”
he cried, as the top of the billow fell, and nothing
was seen save the heads of the four men like dark
spots on the foam. The boat had in truth been
overwhelmed and sunk, but, like a true lifeboat it
rose to the surface like a cork the instant the weight
of water was removed, and her crew, who had held on
to the life-lines and oars, were still safe.
“Well done the little Hope!”
cried the Captain, while Benjy gave vent to his feelings
in a cheer, which was evidently heard by Leo, for he
was seen to wave his hand in reply. Next moment
another wave hid the Hope from view, and it
was seen no more at that time.
“I feel easier now, Benjy, thank
God, after that. Alf is a fair steersman,
and our boats are evidently able to stand rough usage.”
Benjy made no reply. He was
rubbing the water out of his eyes, and anxiously looking
through the thick air in the hope of seeing Leo’s
boat again. The poor boy was grave enough now.
When the might and majesty of the Creator are manifested
in the storm and the raging sea, the merely humorous
fancies of man are apt to be held in check.
The Captain’s boat went rushing
thus wildly onwards, still, fortunately, in the right
direction; and for some hours there was no decrease
in the force of the gale. Then, instead of abating,
as might have been expected, it suddenly increased
to such an extent that speedy destruction appeared
to be inevitable.
“No sort o’ craft could
live long in this,” muttered the Captain,
as if to himself rather than to his son, who sat with
a firm expression on his somewhat pale countenance,
looking wistfully towards the northern horizon.
Perhaps he was wondering whether it was worth while
to risk so much for such an end. Suddenly he
shaded his eyes with his hand and gazed intently.
“Land!” he exclaimed in a low eager tone.
“Whereaway, boy? Ay, so
there is something there. What say you, Chingatok?
Is it land?”
The giant, who, during all this time,
had calmly plied a pair of oars with strength equal
almost to that of four men, looked over his shoulder
without, however, relaxing his efforts.
“No,” he said, turning round again, “it
is an ice-hill.”
“A berg!” exclaimed the
Captain. “We will make for it. Tie
your handkerchief, Benjy, to the end of an oar and
hold it up. It will serve as a guide to our
comrades.”
In a wonderfully short space of time
the berg which Benjy had seen as a mere speck on the
horizon rose sharp, rugged, and white against the
black sky. It was a very large one so
large that it had no visible motion, but seemed as
firm as a rock, while the billows of the Arctic Ocean
broke in thunder on its glassy shore.
“We’ll get shelter behind
it, Ben, my boy,” said the Captain, “hold
the oar well up, and don’t let the rag clap
round the blade. Shake it out so. God
grant that they may see it.”
“Amen,” ejaculated Benjy
to the prayer with heartfelt intensity.
There was danger as well as safety
in the near vicinity to this berg, for many of its
pinnacles seemed ready to fall, and there was always
the possibility of a mass being broken off under water,
which might destroy the equilibrium of the whole berg,
and cause it to revolve with awfully destructive power.
However, there was one favourable
point the base was broad, and the ice-cliffs
that bordered the sea were not high.
In a few more minutes the western
end of the berg was passed. Its last cape was
rounded, and the Faith was swept by the united
efforts of Chingatok, Benjy, and Toolooha, (who would
not remain under cover), into the comparatively still
water on the lee, or northern side of the berg.
“Hurrah!” shouted Benjy
in a tone that was too energetic and peculiar to have
been called forth by the mere fact of his own escape
from danger.
Captain Vane looked in the direction
indicated by the boy’s glistening eyes glistening
with the salt tears of joy as well as with salt sea
spray and there beheld the other two boats
coming dancing in like wild things on the crests of
the heaving waves. They had seen the signal of
the handkerchief, understood and followed it, and,
in a few minutes more, were under the lee of the ice-cliffs,
thanking God and congratulating each other on their
deliverance.
A sheltered cove was soon found, far
enough removed from cliffs and pinnacles to insure
moderate safety. Into this they ran, and there
they spent the night, serenaded by the roaring gale,
and lullabied by the crash of falling spires and the
groans of rending ice.