about the point of rupture. It was the isthmus which had yielded in
the shock of the earthquake. Not a trace was to be seen of the American
continent, not a single cliff, even the volcano on the west had
disappeared. Nothing but the sea everywhere.
The island on this side ended in a cape, coming to an almost sharp
point, and it was evident that the substratum of ice, fretted by
the warmer waters of the current and exposed to all the fury of the
elements, must rapidly dissolve.
The explorers resumed their march, following the course of the fracture,
which ran from west to east in an almost straight line. Its edges were
not jagged or broken, but clear cut, as if the division had been made
with a sharp instrument, and here and there the conformation of the soil
could be easily examined. The banks- half ice, half sand and earth-rose
some ten feet from the water. They were perfectly perpendicular, without
the slightest slope, and in some places there were traces of recent
landslips. Sergeant Long pointed to several small blocks of ice floating
in the offing, and rapidly melting, which had evidently been broken off
from their island. The action of the warm surf would, of course, soon
eat away the new coast-line, which time had not yet clothed with a kind
of cement of snow and sand, such as covered the rest of the beach, and
altogether the state of things was very far from reassuring.
Before taking any rest, Mrs Barnett, Hobson, and Long, were anxious to
finish their examination of the southern edge of the island. There would
be plenty of daylight, for the sun would not set until eleven o’clock
P.M. The briliant orb of day was slowly advancing along the western
horizon, and its oblique rays cast long shadows of themselves before the
explorers, who conversed at intervals after long silent pauses, during
which they gazed at the sea and thought of the dark future before them.
Hobson intended to encamp for the night at Washburn Bay. When there
eighteen miles would have been traversed, and, if he were not mistaken,
half his circular journey would be accomplished. After a few hours’
repose he meant to return to Fort Hope along the western coast.
No fresh incident marked the exploration of the short distance between
Walruses’ Bay and Washburn Bay, and at seven o’clock in the evening
the spot chosen for the encampment was reached. A similar change had
taken place here. Of Washburn Bay, nothing remained but the curve
formed by the coast-line of the island, and which was once its northern
boundary. It stretched away without a break for seven miles to the cape
they had named Cape Michael. This side of the island did not appear to
have suffered at all in consequence of the rupture. The thickets of pine
and birch, massed a little behind the cape, were in their fullest beauty
at this time of year, and a good many furred animals were disporting
themselves on the plain.
A halt was made at Washburn Bay, and the explorers were able to enjoy
an extended view on the south, although they could not see any great
distance on the north. The sun was so low on the horizon, that its rays
were intercepted by the rising ground on the west, and did not reach
the little bay. It was not, however, yet night, nor could it be called
twilight, as the sun had not set.
“Lieutenant,” said Long, “if by some miracle a bell were now to
ring, what do you suppose it would mean?”
“That it was supper-time,” replied Hobson. “Don’t you agree with
me, Mrs Barnett?”
“Indeed I do,” replied the lady addressed, “and as our cloth is
spread for us, let us sit down. This moss, although slightly worn, will
suit us admirably, and was evidently intended for us by Providence.”
The bag of provisions was opened; some salt meat, a hare paté from Mrs
Joliffe’s larder, with a few biscuits, formed their frugal supper.
The meal was quickly over, and Hobson returned to the southwest angle of
the island, whilst Mrs Barnett rested at the foot of a low fir tree, and
Sergeant Long made ready the night quarters.
The Lieutenant was anxious to examine the piece of ice which formed the
island, to ascertain, if possible, something of its structure. A little
bank, produced by a landslip, enabled him to step down to the level of
the sea, and from there he was able to look closely at the steep wall
which formed the coast. Where he stood the soil rose scarcely three feet
above the water. The upper part consisted of a thin layer of earth and
sand mixed with crushed shells; and the lower of hard, compact, and, if
we may so express it, “metallic” ice, strong enough to support the
upper soil of the island.
This layer of ice was not more than one foot above the sea-level. In
consequence of the recent fracture, it was easy to see the regular
disposition of the sheets of ice piled up horizontally, and which had
evidently been produced by successive frosts in comparatively quieter
waters.
We know that freezing commences on the surface of liquids, and as
the cold increases, the thickness of the crust becomes greater, the
solidification proceeding from the top downwards. That at least is the
case in waters that are at rest; it has, however, been observed that
the very reverse is the case in running waters-the ice forming at the
bottom, and subsequently rising to the surface.
It was evident, then, that the floe which formed the foundation of
Victoria Island had been formed in calm waters on the shores of the
North American continent. The freezing had evidently commenced on
the surface, and the thaw would begin at the bottom, according to a
well-known law; so that the ice-field would gradually decrease in weight
as it became thawed by the warmer waters through which it was passing,
and the general level of the island would sink in proportion.
This was the great danger.
As we have just stated, Hobson noticed that the solid ice, the ice-field
properly so called, was only about one foot above the sea-level! We know
that four-fifths of a floating mass of ice are always submerged. For one
foot of an iceberg or ice-field above the water, there are four below
it. It must, however, be remarked that the density, or rather specific
weight of floating ice, varies considerably according to its mode
of formation or origin. The ice-masses which proceed from sea water,
porous, opaque, and tinged with blue or green, according as they are
struck by the rays of the sun, are lighter than ice formed from fresh
water. All things considered, and making due allowance for the weight of
the mineral and vegetable layer above the ice. Hobson concluded it to
be about four or five feet thick below the sea-level. The different
declivities of the island, the little hills and rising ground, would of
course only affect the upper soil, and it might reasonably be supposed
that the wandering island was not immersed more than five feet.
This made Hobson very anxious. Only five feet! Setting aside the causes
of dissolution to which the ice-field might be subjected, would not the
slightest shock cause a rupture of the surface? Might not a rough sea or
a gale of wind cause a dislocation of the ice-field, which would lead to
its breaking up into small portions, and to its final decomposition? Oh
for the speedy arrival of the winter, with its bitter cold! Would that
the column of mercury were frozen in its cistern! Nothing but the rigour
of an Arctic winter could consolidate and thicken the foundation of
their island, and establish a means of communication between it and the
continent.
Hobson returned to the halting-place little cheered by his discoveries,
and found Long busy making arrangements for the night; for he had no
idea of sleeping beneath the open sky, although Mrs Barnett declared
herself quite ready to do so. He told the Lieutenant that he intended to
dig a hole in the ice big enough to hold three persons—in fact to make
a kind of snow-hut, in which they would be protected from the cold night
air.
“In the land of the Esquimaux,” he said, “nothing is wiser than to
do as the Esquimaux do.”
Hobson approved, but advised the Sergeant not to dig too deeply, as the
ice was not more than five feet thick.
Long set to work. With the aid of his hatchet and ice-chisel he had
soon cleared away the earth, and hollowed out a kind of passage sloping
gently down to the crust of ice.
He next attacked the brittle mass, which had been covered over with sand
and earth for so many centuries. It would not take more than an hour to
hollow out a subterranean retreat, or rather a burrow with walls of
ice, which would keep in the heat, and therefore serve well for a
resting-place during the short night.
Whilst Long was working away like a white ant, Hobson communicated the
result of his observations to Mrs Barnett. He did not disguise from her
that the construction of Victoria Island rendered him very uneasy. He
felt sure that the thinness of the ice would lead to the opening of
ravines on the surface before long; where, it would be impossible to
foresee, and of course it would be equally impossible to prevent them.
The wandering Island might at any moment settle down in consequence of
a change in its specific gravity, or break up into more or less numerous
islets, the duration of which must necessarily be ephemeral. He judged,
therefore, that it would be best for the members of the colony to keep
together as much as possible, and not to leave the fort, that they might
all share the same chances.
Hobson was proceeding further to unfold his views when cries for help
were heard.
Mrs Barnett started to her feet, and both looked round in every
direction, but nothing was to be seen.
The cries were now redoubled, and Hobson exclaimed—
“The Sergeant! the Sergeant!”
And followed by Mrs Barnett, he rushed towards the burrow, and he had
scarcely reached the opening of the snow-house before he saw Sergeant
Long clutching with both hands at his knife, which he had stuck in the
wall of ice, and calling out loudly, although with the most perfect
self-possession.
His head and arms alone were visible. Whilst he was digging, the ice had
given way suddenly beneath him, and he was plunged into water up to his
waist.
Hobson merely said—
“Keep hold!”
And creeping through the passage, he was soon at the edge of the hole.
The poor Sergeant seized his hand, and he was soon rescued from his
perilous position.
“Good God! Sergeant!” exclaimed Mrs Barnett; “what has
happened?”
“Nothing,” replied Long, shaking himself like a wet spaniel,
“except that the ice gave way under me, and I took a compulsory
bath.”
“You forgot what I told you about not digging too deeply, then,”
said Hobson.
“Beg pardon, sir; I hadn’t cut through fifteen inches of the ice,
and I expect there was a kind of cavern where I was working-the ice
did not touch the water. It was just like going through a ceiling. If I
hadn’t been able to hang on by my knife, I should have slipped under
the island like a fool, and that would have been a pity, wouldn’t it,
madam?”
“A very great pity, my brave fellow,” said Mrs Barnett, pressing his
hand.
Long’s explanation was correct; for some reason or another—most
likely from an accumulation of air-the ice had formed a kind of vault
above the water, and of course it soon gave way under the weight of the
Sergeant and the blows of his chisel.
The same thing might happen in other parts of the island, which was
anything but reassuring. Where could they be certain of treading on firm
ground? Might not the earth give way beneath their feet at any minute?
What heart, however brave, would not have sunk at the thought of the
thin partition between them and the awful gulf of the ocean?
Sergeant Long, however, thought but little of his bath, and was ready
to begin mining in some other place. This Mrs Barnett would not allow.
A night in the open air would do her no harm; the shelter of the coppice
near would be protection enough for them all; and Sergeant Long was
obliged to submit.
The camp was, therefore, moved back some thirty yards from the beach,
to a rising ground on which grew a few clumps of pines and willows which
could scarcely be called a wood. Towards ten o’clock the disc of the
sun began to dip below the horizon, and before it disappeared for the
few hours of the night a crackling fire of dead branches was blazing at
the camp.
Long had now a fine opportunity of drying his legs, of which he gladly
availed himself. He and Hobson talked together earnestly until twilight
set in, and Mrs Barnett occasionally joined in the conversation, doing
the best she could to cheer the disheartened Lieutenant. The sky was
bright with stars, and the holy influence of the night could not fail
to calm his troubled spirit. The wind murmured softly amongst the pines;
even the sea appeared to be wrapt in slumber, its bosom slightly heaving
with the swell, which died away upon the beach with a faint rippling
sound. All creation was hushed, not even the wail of a sea bird broke
upon the ear, the crisp crackling of the dead branches was exchanged for
a steady flame, and nothing but the voices of the wanderers broke the
sublime, the awful silence of the night.
“Who would imagine,” said Mrs Barnett, “that we were floating on
the surface of the ocean! It really requires an effort to realise it,
for the sea which is carrying us along in its fatal grasp appears to be
absolutely motionless!”
“Yes, madam,” replied Hobson;” and if the floor of our carriage
were solid, if I did not know that sooner or later the keel of our boat
will be missing, that some day its hull will burst open, and finally, if
I knew where we are going, I should rather enjoy floating on the ocean
like this.”
“Well, Lieutenant,” rejoined Mrs Barnett, “could there be a
pleasanter mode of travelling than ours? We feel no motion. Our island
has exactly the same speed as the current which is bearing it away. Is
it not like a balloon voyage in the air? What could be more delightful
than advancing with one’s house, garden, park, &c.? A wandering
island, with a solid insubmersible foundation, would really be the most
comfortable and wonderful conveyance that could possibly be imagined. I
have heard of hanging gardens. Perhaps some day floating parks will be
invented which will carry us all over the globe! Their size will render
them insensible to the action of the waves, they will have nothing
to fear from storms, and perhaps with a favourable wind they might be
guided by means of immense sails! What marvels of vegetation would be
spread before the eyes of the passengers when they passed from temperate
to torrid zones! With skilful pilots, well acquainted with the currents,
it might be possible to remain in one latitude, and enjoy a perpetual
spring.”
Hobson could not help smiling at Mrs Barnett’s fancies. The brave
woman ran on with such an easy flow of words, she talked with as little
effort as Victoria Island moved. And was she not right? It would have
been a very pleasant mode of travelling if there had been no danger of
their conveyance melting and being swallowed up by the sea.
The night passed on, and the explorers slept a few hours. At daybreak
they breakfasted, and thoroughly enjoyed their meal. The warmth and
rest had refreshed them, and they resumed their journey at about six
o’clock A.M.
From Cape Michael to the former Port Barnett the coast ran in an almost
straight line from south to north for about eleven miles. There was
nothing worthy of note about it; the shores were low and pretty even all
the way, and seemed to have suffered no alteration since the breaking
of the isthmus. Long, in obedience to the Lieutenant, made bench marks
along the beach, that any future change might be easily noted.
Hobson was naturally anxious to get back to Fort Hope the same day, and
Mrs Barnett was also eager to return to her friends. It was of course
desirable under the circumstances that the commanding officer should not
be long absent from the fort
All haste was therefore made, and by taking a short cut they arrived at
noon at the little promontory which formerly protected Port Barnett from
the east winds.
It was not more than eight miles from this point to Fort Hope, and
before four o’clock P.M the shouts of Corporal Joliffe welcomed their
return to the factory.