On the Iceberg
The raft was quickly drawn up to a safe position on the “ice shore” and
the castaways retreated still farther from the water’s edge in order to
keep well out of reach of the heaviest waves. The smaller raft was
“beached” in a similar manner, and like precaution was taken to prevent
its being washed back into the sea.
Presently the moon arose and lighted the scene with ghastly effect. But
the ghastliness was a thing more to be remembered afterwards. It
scarcely moved their numbed senses then. Wind currents high above soon
became more active, and banks of clouds were broken up and scattered as
if by bursting shells, then chased one another across the sky, while the
big pale-yellow queen of the night rode majestically over this deep-wide
scene of dismal wilderness.
All of the women and several of the men on the iceberg were suffering so
severely, as a result of the exposure, that it appeared likely they
would soon collapse. Their condition and the serious discomfort of
everybody else compelled a general casting about for means of relief.
True, the first impulse was one of hopelessness, but events proved that
elements were still available with which resourceful minds could combat
despair.
The first device along this line was preceded with a discovery that, in
itself, was anything but hopeful. This discovery was announced by
Gunseyt, who exhibited more nervous anxiety over the danger of their
situation than any other member of the castaway party. Meanwhile Guy had
not fully recovered from his astonishment following his identification
of the “radio passenger” with the London “fog pirate” of the
“squeak-roar” voice. Hence the mystery of this revelation tempered
somewhat the gloom of a new disaster, disclosed by those same
“squeak-roar” tones, when Gunseyt startled everybody by announcing:
“The rafts are spoiled; we can’t use them any more. The air cylinders
are smashed.”
There was a general rush toward the rafts as the last alarming sentence
was finished, and a hurried inspection was made by all. Several groans
of dismay followed, also a few grumbling criticisms of the carelessness
that had characterized their landing on the ice “beach.” The drive of
the oars, reinforced by the lift and drop of the waves on which they
had ridden “shoreward,” had brought the cylinders down upon the
ice with such force as to wreck their further serviceability as
air-and-water-tight buoys.
“Yes, he’s right,” declared Watson presently. “They’re not good for
anything any more except firewood.”
“Then let’s build a fire and get warm,” proposed one of the men. “I’ve
got a water-tight match-safe full of matches.”
The unanimous vote with which this proposal was speedily adopted was
pitiful in its eagerness. Then followed a general attack upon the two
rafts, which, although there was not a tool larger than a jacknife in
this iceberg camp, quickly reduced them to crumpled heaps of wood,
bended steel bars, and the battered junk of many recently well-shaped
and air-tight metal cylinders. Watson, Guy, Glennon and half a dozen
other men, who had knives in their pockets whittled away at pieces of
the deck lumber, and soon produced a pile of fairly dry shavings and
splints.
“Now,” said Watson; “we’ll try to arrange these cylinders so that they
may be used as a sort of grate for our fire to prevent, as much as
possible, a melting of the ice under it. And, by the way, there’s
another precaution we want to take. There’s no telling how thick, or
thin, this beach of ice that we are standing on is. A fire’s bound to
melt it more or less, and that, together with our weight, might cause it
to crack and, maybe, break off. There’s a shelf up there that’s big
enough to hold us all, and a good bonfire, too. Come on, men; one more
little job, and we’ll soon be toasting.”
The men needed no urging. A few were inclined to grumble at the delay,
but the majority were of a class well experienced in the wisdom of
“looking ahead,” and Watson’s advice prevailed. The shelf in question
was more than a hundred feet square, and was elevated eight or ten feet
higher than the area on which they were standing. Both of these areas
were comparatively smooth, probably because they were exposed to the
dash of the high waves, which filled the crevices and hollow places and
froze.
In spite of their numbed and deep-chilled condition, the men worked with
good energy, and pretty soon a roaring blaze was shooting its eager
tongues upward and making more cheerful that desolate place. The women
were assisted to the upper shelf, and then began the work of drying
clothes and thawing out aching limbs and bodies. The drying process was
a long one. The fire was not large enough to accommodate all around it
at once near the blaze, so that it was necessary for them to “thaw” in
shifts and hold articles of clothing for one another near the heat.
However, by supplementing the benefits of the fire with vigorous
exercise they produced excellent results and finally all found
themselves feeling almost comfortable.
But it was an occupation attended with much suffering at first. The
women and even a few of the men, who had been numbed into silence, wept
and groaned with pain as they began to “thaw.” Guy had never before
suffered such agony, particularly in his feet, which had become almost
nerveless from walking or standing on the ice in shoes soaked with
water.
“We’ll all be having rheumatism all the rest of our lives,” he remarked
to Glennon as they stood with bare feet on bits of wood and held their
shoes and socks near the blaze.
“We’ll be mighty lucky if we ever get out of this fix to enjoy the
blessings of rheumatism,” replied a man who overheard the prophecy.
“Oh, we’ll be rescued all right,” was Watson’s confident assurance
uttered for its optimistic effect on his companions. “I shouldn’t be
surprised to see a ship loom up in the darkness any minute. And that
reminds me that we must keep a sharp lookout. Anybody that’s got a pair
of lusty lungs he’d like to exercise couldn’t put ’em to better use than
to let forth a big yell now and then.”
“It couldn’t be heard very far,” declared another with half-thawed-out
pessimism.
“Oh, yes it could. Sound travels a long distance over water. Besides,”
he added, lowering his voice so the women could not hear: “we’ve got to
figure out something else besides this fire to attract attention.
There’s only one chance in two or three that the blaze will be seen by a
passing ship. See how high the ice rises there. It completely shuts off
the light of the fire on that side.”
Guy was startled at this suggestion. He gazed up at the great jagged
wall of ice and realized at once that Watson’s fear was no idle one. He
looked up among the scattering clouds, located the north star, and then
observed that it was the view to the south that was shut off by the
mountain of ice. A great dread possessed him as he realized that a
rescue steamer might pass within a quarter of a mile of this precarious
refuge while the officers and crew remained ignorant of the nearness of
the castaways.
Following the suggestion of Watson, a chorus of shouts was sent out over
the water every now and then. The first attempt was a dismal failure,
resulting in such discord that every voice tended to annul, rather than
to assist, the strength and clearness of every other voice. The next and
succeeding attempts, however, were more satisfactory, being pitched in a
common key. But unfortunately the wall of ice prevented the sound from
going very far to the south, for the ship which had signaled to the
operator on the Herculanea that it was hastening to the rescue arrived
in the vicinity, picked up several boat loads, remained near the scene
of the wreck until daybreak, and then steamed away without discovering
the party on the iceberg.
It was three hours after sun-up before the castaways succeeded in drying
all their clothes. To effect this, they had found it necessary to burn
all the wood of the smaller raft and a considerable portion of the
larger.
Nowhere could they discover a sign of life—not a bird of any description
nor an inhabitant of the deep sporting on the surface. After the sun had
teased them a few hours with just a suggestion of warmth, the fire was
allowed to burn low to conserve the remaining fuel. The men decided to
try to keep warm with vigorous exercise, incidentally exploring their
cheerless refuge.
But it was almost a hopeless task without food in their stomachs. The
resolute men had not exercised long before they realized that fuel must
soon be supplied for the furnaces of their bodies or the human fires in
them would die out.
Guy realized this quite as fully as did the others. He read similar
thought in the faces of Watson and Glennon, as the three moved together
away from the rest of the castaways. But he set his teeth firmly,
resolving to die with a struggle, if indeed he must die. And it was not
easy, even under the present almost hopeless circumstances, for him to
entertain a likelihood of such finish. There must be some way out of the
predicament.
The flat shore-like section of the iceberg where they had sought refuge
was several acres in extent. It was a “beach on a mountain coast,” being
formed as if cut into a giant hill, with a sloping wind-break on either
side. Watson and the two boys approached the slope at the western end to
discover, if possible, an ascent to some high lookout point on the berg.
What seemed at first glance an impossible task proved much less
difficult on closer inspection. They were pleased to find just beyond
the “wind-break” a natural crevice, or depression, running up the side
of the ice-mountain and in this crevice an ascent of steps which
although crude and irregular, they could almost believe had been
fashioned by human hands. With a shout of surprise that attracted the
attention of all the other men, Watson ran around the end of the
“wind-break” near the water’s edge and began to climb this remarkable
stairway.
Guy and Carl followed. A recent fall of snow on wet ice, succeeded by
freezing, made it possible to secure good foothold, and they ascended
rapidly. The higher they went, the more they wondered, and the more they
were inclined to believe that human hands had performed this work of ice
carpentry or masonry.
But more surprises were in store for them. After they reached the top
landing—a considerable level area fashioned by Jack Frost and the
elements—they beheld a sight that caused them to stare with amazement
and then shout for joy. On the farther slope of the iceberg was another
flight of steps leading almost to the water’s edge, and at the foot was
all the evidence needed to convince them that both stairways were works
of men. In another area, not more than fifty feet in diameter and
running out to form another and smaller beach at the water’s edge, were
two human beings, apparently men.
“Why, we’re not the only ones that landed on the iceberg,” exclaimed
Glennon.
“Not so fast,” advised Watson, with a contradictory gesture. “Those
people are not from the Herculanea. See, they’re dressed in furs. If I’m
not mistaken, they’re not of our race even; they’re—”
He hesitated before expressing the opinion in his mind and looked more
intently at the two strange inhabitants of the floating island of ice.
“What?” Guy asked eagerly.
“Eskimos!”