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 couldn't 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,
doesn't 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, didn't 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 man's 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, "don't
be cast down; we'll all turn doctors for the occasion, and nurse you
well in spite of yourself."
"I'll keep up all heart, Captain, you may depend on't, as long as two of
my bones will stick together, but--well, 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
there's a basin just ahead which seems a little more secure than that in
which we lie. I'll 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 Captain's 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 iceberg--so 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 vessel's 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 Vane's 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 can't 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 sharp's 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 can't go to de bottom, cause we's dare a-ready!"
"What d'ye mean, Butterface?"
"Jus' what me say," replied the steward, with a look of calm
resignation. "I's bin b'low, an' seed de rocks stickin' troo de bottom.
Der's one de size ob a jolly-boat's bow comed right troo my pantry, an'
knock all de crockery to smash, an' de best teapot, he's so flat he
wouldn't 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, we've reason to be thankful for that, at all events," said the
Captain, with an attempt to look cheerful; "come, lads, let's to work.
Whatever our future course is to be, our first business is to get the
boats and cargo out of danger."
With tremendous energy--because action brought relief to their
overstrained feelings--the 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 night--if we may call it night in a region where the sun never
quite went down--the 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 Greenland--the great Humboldt glacier--
shedding 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.
"Now, my friends," said Captain Vane to the crew when assembled after
supper, "I am no longer your commander, for my vessel is a wreck, but as
I suppose you still regard me as your leader, I assemble you here for
the purpose of considering our position, and deciding on what is best to
be done."
Here the Captain said, among other things, it was his opinion that the
_Whitebear_ was damaged beyond the possibility of repair, that their
only chance of escape lay in the boats, and that the distance between
the place on which they stood and Upernavik, although great, was not
beyond the reach of resolute men.
"Before going further, or expressing a decided opinion," he added, "I
would hear what the officers have to say on this subject. Let the first
mate speak."
"It's my opinion," said the mate, "that there's only one thing to be
done, namely, to start for home as soon and as fast as we can. We have
good boats, plenty of provisions, and are all stout and healthy,
excepting our doctor, whom we will take good care of, and expect to do
no rough work."
"Thanks, mate," said the doctor with a laugh, "I think that, at all
events, I shall keep well enough to physic you if you get ill."
"Are you willing to take charge of the party in the event of my deciding
to remain here?" asked the Captain of the mate.
"Certainly, sir," he replied, with a look of slight surprise. "You know
I am quite able to do so. The second mate, too, is as able as I am.
For that matter, most of the men, I think, would find little difficulty
in navigating a boat to Upernavik."
"That is well," returned the Captain, "because I do not intend to return
with you."
"Not return!" exclaimed the doctor; "surely you don't mean to winter
here."
"No, not here, but further north," replied the Captain, with a smile
which most of the party returned, for they thought he was jesting.
Benjy Vane, however, did not think so. A gleeful look of triumph caused
his face, as it were, to sparkle, and he said, eagerly--
"We'll winter at the North Pole, father, eh?"
This was greeted with a general laugh.
"But seriously, uncle, what do you mean to do?" asked Leonard
Vandervell, who, with his brother, was not unhopeful that the Captain
meditated something desperate.
"Benjy is not far off the mark. I intend to winter at the Pole, or as
near to it as I can manage to get."
"My dear Captain Vane," said the doctor, with an anxious look, "you
cannot really mean what you say. You must be jesting, or mad."
"Well, as to madness," returned the Captain with a peculiar smile, "you
ought to know best, for it's a perquisite of your cloth to pronounce
people mad or sane, though some of yourselves are as mad as the worst of
us; but in regard to jesting, nothing, I assure you, is further from my
mind. Listen!"
He rose from the box which had formed his seat, and looked earnestly
round on his men. As he stood there, erect, tall, square, powerful,
with legs firmly planted, and apart, as if to guard against a lurch of
his ship, with his bronzed face flushed, and his dark eye flashing, they
all understood that their leader's mind was made up, and that what he
had resolved upon, he would certainly attempt to carry out.
"Listen," he repeated; "it was my purpose on leaving England, as you all
know, to sail north as far as the ice would let me; to winter where we
should stick fast, and organise an over-ice, or overland journey to the
Pole with all the appliances of recent scientific discovery, and all the
advantages of knowledge acquired by former explorers. It has pleased
God to destroy my ship, but my life and my hopes are spared. So are my
stores and scientific instruments. I intend, therefore, to carry out my
original purpose. I believe that former explorers have erred in some
points of their procedure. These errors I shall steer clear of. Former
travellers have ignored some facts, and despised some appliances. These
facts I will recognise; these appliances I will utilise. With a steam
yacht, you, my friends, who have shown so much enthusiasm and courage up
to this point, would have been of the utmost service to me. As a party
in boats, or on foot, you would only hamper my movements. I mean to
prosecute this enterprise almost alone. I shall join myself to the
Eskimos."
He paused at this point as if in meditation. Benjy, whose eyes and
mouth had been gradually opening to their widest, almost gasped with
astonishment as he glanced at his cousins, whose expressive countenances
were somewhat similarly affected.
"I have had some long talks," continued the Captain, "with that big
Eskimo Chingatok, through our interpreter, and from what he says I
believe my chances of success are considerable. I am all the more
confirmed in this resolution because of the readiness and ability of my
first mate to guide you out of the Arctic regions, and your willingness
to trust him. Anders has agreed to go with me as interpreter, and now,
all I want is one other man, because--"
"Put me down, father," cried Benjy, in a burst of excitement--"_I'm_
your man."
"Hush, lad," said the Captain with a little smile, "of course I shall
take you with me and also your two cousins, but I want one other man to
complete the party--but he must be a heartily willing man. Who will
volunteer?"
There was silence for a few moments. It was broken by the doctor.
"I for one won't volunteer," he said, "for I'm too much shaken by this
troublesome illness to think of such an expedition. If I were well it
might be otherwise, but perhaps some of the others will offer."
"You can't expect me to do so," said the mate, "for I've got to guide
our party home, as agreed on; besides, under any circumstances, I would
not join you, for it is simple madness. You'll forgive me, Captain. I
mean no disrespect, but I have sailed many years to these seas, and I
know from experience that what you propose is beyond the power of man to
accomplish."
"Experience!" repeated the Captain, quickly. "Has your experience
extended further north than this point?"
"No, sir, I have not been further north than this--nobody has. It is
beyond the utmost limit yet reached, so far as I know."
"Well, then, you cannot speak from _experience_ about what I propose,"
said the Captain, turning away. "Come, lads, I have no wish to
constrain you, I merely give one of you the chance."
Still no one came forward. Every man of the crew of the _Whitebear_ had
had more or less personal acquaintance with arctic travel and danger.
They would have followed Captain Vane anywhere in the yacht, but
evidently they had no taste for what he was about to undertake.
At last one stepped to the front. It was Butterface, the steward. This
intensely black negro was a bulky, powerful man, with a modest spirit
and a strange disbelief in his own capacities, though, in truth, these
were very considerable. He came forward, stooping slightly, and rubbing
his hands in a deprecating manner.
"'Scuse me, massa Capting. P'r'aps it bery presumsheeous in dis yer
chile for to speak afore his betters, but as no oder man 'pears to want
to volunteer, I's willin' to go in an' win. Ob course I ain't a man--
on'y a nigger, but I's a willin' nigger, an' kin do a few small tings--
cook de grub, wash up de cups an' sarsers, pull a oar, clean yer boots,
fight de Eskimos if you wants me to, an' ginrally to scrimmage around
a'most anything. Moreover, I eats no more dan a babby--'sep wen I's
hungry--an' I'll foller you, massa, troo tick and tin--to de Nort Pole,
or de Sout Pole, or de East Pole, or de West Pole--or any oder pole
wotsomediver--all de same to Butterface, s'long's you'll let 'im stick
by you."
The crew could not help giving the negro a cheer as he finished this
loyal speech, and the Captain, although he would have preferred one of
the other men, gladly accepted his services.
A few days later the boats were ready and provisioned; adieus were said,
hats and handkerchiefs waved, and soon after Captain Vane and his son
and two nephews, with Anders and Butterface, were left to fight their
battles alone, on the margin of an unexplored, mysterious Polar sea.