THE GRAVES ON THE STARBOARD BOW.
The last of our stone ballast had long since been thrown overboard on
the ice, and was replaced by seal skins. We had now a valuable
cargo, over which the hatches were barred and battened; but Hartly's
hopes for an honest profit on his adventurous expedition were
forgotten, or merged in the overwhelming desire for freedom and the
safety of our lives and of the brig.
Already five deaths were recorded in her log; and Hartly vowed that
if ever again her bows cut blue water, he would never more tempt Dame
Fortune in _the region of ice_.
By this time our monotonous detention had so far exceeded every
expectation and contingency; that our beer, rum, and other spirits,
our salted beef, preserved meats, and lime-juice were consumed; and
though our biscuits were doled out in very small rations indeed, grim
starvation was before us, or food composed of seal and blubber alone;
so scurvy in its worst forms assailed us all more or less. Our
strongest seamen were the first who sank under it: their complexions
became yellow, with swollen gums, loosened teeth, and fetid breath.
These symptoms were accompanied by a difficulty in respiring, which,
on the least exertion being made, amounted almost to suffocation.
Two of our gunners died one evening within an hour of each other. We
wrapped them in blankets, and buried them quickly, under cloud of
night, lest the survivors might be affected by the scene.
Hartly, Hans Peterkin, Cuffy, and I performed this melancholy office,
when we had no lamp but the twinkling stars and the sharp streamers
of the northern lights, shooting upward from the icebergs that edged
the plain, over which the wind blew keen and bitingly.
Grim seemed the pale faces of the dead in that wavering gloom, as we
lowered them into their last home, heaped the ice above them, and
returned to the _Leda_, leaving them to sleep the sleep of death
among their shipmates _half a mile distant on her starboard bow_.
And now with each day there sank a deeper horror over us--the horror
that, like the old whaler at the horizon, the _Leda_ was a ship
foredoomed! Yet, like her, we had _not_ sailed upon a Friday.
We were without a surgeon; but Hartly was a skilful fellow, and by
administering such simples as we possessed, he endeavoured to
ameliorate the condition of his suffering crew.
Common potatoes he washed, cut into thin slices, and gave raw to
some, for the cure of their swollen and bleeding gums--usually a
sovereign remedy in this case. To others he gave decoctions of
tamarinds, scraped from an old gallipot, and boiled with cream of
tartar; or a ship biscuit pounded into a panada, and sweetened with
sugar; or gargles made of honey of roses and elixir of vitriol; but,
ere long, even these remedies failed us; and we had Reeves, Hans
Peterkin, and more than half our remaining crew, unable to raise
their heads or hands, sick and despairing.
The miserable Esquimaux, by scraping the snow from their native
rocks, can find coarse berries, sorrel, and cresses, with which to
correct their blubber food; but in that world of ice we had no such
boon accorded us.
Armed with our rifles and knives, I set forth with two of our
healthiest men, Dick and James Abbot, two brothers, in search of a
few fresh seals, as they had learned to shun our locality, and had
ceased to venture through their holes in the ice for some time past.
We left the brig about two o'clock, P.M.
On this day the wind was blowing hard, the white scud was flying fast
through the blue sky, and for the first time we felt a heaving motion
in the ice, which warned us instinctively not to venture far from the
_Leda_. After a ramble of three hours, we had only shot one seal and
knocked two cubs on the head with our rifle-butts, when we sat down
on a hummock to rest, at the distance of two miles or so from our
ice-bound home.
"I wonder much how the masts of that old craft the _Bounty_ have
stood these many years?" said Dick Abbot, breaking a long silence.
"The coating of ice has saved them, as it has preserved everything on
board--from decay, at least," replied his brother.
"Always thinking of that ship," said I, with an air of annoyance.
"Come, let us talk of something more cheerful. You know that
she--but _where is she_?" I added, as we swept the horizon in vain
for her--the sole object on which our eyes had rested for so many
dreary weeks.
"Sunk, by Jove! or can her old spars have gone by the board at last?"
exclaimed James Abbot, starting up.
In great excitement we clambered to the summit of a mass of ice, and
looked around us. Not a vestige of the old barque could be seen, but
dense clouds that came heavily up from the north were overspreading
the sky, against the blue of which her crystal-coated spars had so
long been visible.
"We shall have foul weather," said Dick Abbot.
"And so they seem to think, sir, aboard the brig," added his brother:
"see--they've run the ensign up to the gaff peak as a signal for us
to return, Mr. Manly."
"But our three seals----"
"We must leave them where they are--that big hummock will mark where
they lie till to-morrow."
"James is right, sir," said Dick Abbot; "let us get back to the brig
as fast as we can."
"She is two miles distant, at least," said I.
"The sky darkens fast; and see--see!" he added, with wild joy
expressed in all his features, his eyes, and voice; "the captain
expects something--they've cast loose the courses, and are hoisting
the topsailyards--THE ICE IS BREAKING UP!"
These words made every pulse quicken, and as if in corroboration of
his surmise, we felt the field on which we trod agitated by
convulsive throes, and these increased as the fierce and darkening
blast, armed with showers of hailstones large as peas, that fell
aslant the cold grey sky, deepened the atmosphere around us. Madly
we toiled, scrambled, and rolled--fell, rose, and fell again--shouted
and cheered to each other, as we surmounted the endless succession of
glassy hummocks and snowy hollows to reach the _Leda_; but the gloom
increased so fast, that in less than half an hour we could no longer
distinguish where she lay.
We did not feel cold--our brains seemed on fire, our bloodshot eyes
were wild and eager in expression, as we toiled on and on--but
_where_ was the brig?
A misty veil of hail and snow--an atmosphere dark as the twilight of
the Scandinavian gods--enveloped us like a curtain. We paused at
times in our desperation, and uttered a simultaneous hallo; but no
voice replied, no sound responded, save the hiss of the hailstones as
they showered on the hard hummocks. Then we heard from time to time
a stunning crash, as the field was rent asunder into floes, that were
surged and driven against each other with such force as the waves of
an irresistible sea can alone exert.
To us this crisis was, as I have said, maddening. We tossed away our
rifles, shot-belts, knives, bats, and everything that might impede
our progress, and toiled in wild despair in search of the _Leda_--but
alas, alas! the _Leda_ was nowhere to be seen!
"Can we have passed her?" we asked repeatedly.
To return was to acknowledge still more that we were at fault.
Left upon the breaking ice, with night deepening, and a tempest,
perhaps, coming on together; the ice-field rending into floes, and
the _Leda_, when last seen, with her topsails loose for sea, and now
we knew not where, but assuredly not within call of our united
voices, which the envious wind, the very spirit of the wintry storm,
swept from our trembling lips, as if in mockery of efforts and
struggles so feeble as those of man when contending with the warring
elements of God,--how terrible was our situation!
Inspired either by the activity of youth, or a greater dread of
perishing, I left my companions some twenty yards behind me. In this
race for life and death poor Dick Abbot was failing, and his younger
brother was loth to leave him a single pace behind.
"Mr. Manly," I heard him cry, "take time, please; do you see anything
yet, sir--of the brig, I mean?" "Not a vestige," said I, turning to
wait until they joined me.
The ice was bursting in every direction, and the waves seemed to boil
through the yawning rents in snowy foam; vast pieces, like bergs,
arose from the water, and were dashed against each other, to sink
into the deep, to arise, and then be dashed together again. Add to
this the darkness of the gathering night, the roar of the biting
wind, and the dense murkiness caused by the hail as it swept through
that mighty waste, and the reader may have an idea of the scene when
I paused and looked back for my two companions.
At that moment the ice heaved beneath my feet, I was thrown forward
on my face and almost stunned. There was a terrific splitting sound
as the field around us broke into a thousand floes: I found myself
separated from my two friends, upon a piece of ice about half a mile
square, and borne away with it, despairing and alone, into the mist
and darkness of the stormy night.