widest part of Behring Sea, six hundred miles from the nearest of the
Aleutian Islands, and two hundred miles from the nearest land, which was
on the east. Supposing no accident happened, it would be three weeks at
least before this southern boundary of Behring Sea could be reached.
Could the island last so long? Might it not burst open at any moment,
subject as it was even now to the constant action of tepid water, the
mean temperature of which was more than 50° Fahrenheit?
Lieutenant Hobson pressed on the construction of the raft as rapidly as
possible, and the lower framework was already floating on the lagoon.
Mac-Nab wished to make it as strong as possible, for it would have a
considerable distance to go to reach the Aleutian Islands, unless they
were fortunate enough to meet with a whaler.
No important alteration had lately taken place in the general
configuration of the island. Reconaissances were taken everyday, but
great caution was necessary, as a fracture of the ground might at any
moment cut off the explorers from the rest of the party.
The wide gulf near Cape Michael, which the winter had closed, had
reopened gradually, and now ran a mile inland, as far as the dried-up
bed of the little river. It was probable that it was soon to extend to
the bed itself, which was of course of little thickness, having been
hollowed out by the stream. Should it do so, the whole district between
Cape Michael and Port Barnett, bounded on the west by the river bed,
would disappear—that is to say, the colonists would lose a good many
square miles of their domain. On this account Hobson warned every one
not to wander far, as a rough sea would be enough to bring about the
dreaded catastrophe.
Soundings were, however, taken, in several places with a view to
ascertaining where the ice was thickest, and it was found that, near
Cape Bathurst, not only was the layer of earth and sand of greater
extent—which was of little importance—but the crust of ice was
thicker than anywhere else. This was a most fortunate circumstance,
and the holes made in sounding were kept open, so that the amount of
diminution in the base of the island could be estimated every day. This
diminution was slow but sure, and, making allowance for the unfortunate
fact that the island was drifting into warmer waters, it was decided
that it was impossible for it to last another three weeks.
The next week, from the 19th to the 25th May, the weather was very bad.
A fearful storm broke over the island, accompanied by flash after
flash of lightning and peals of thunder. The sea rose high, lashed by
a powerful north-west wind, and its waves broke over the doomed island,
making it tremble ominously. The little colony were on the watch, ready
on an emergency to embark in the raft, the scaffolding of which was
nearly finished, and some provisions and fresh water were taken on
board.
Rain heavy enough to penetrate to the ice-crust fell in large quantities
during this storm, and melted it in many places. On the slopes of some
of the hills the earth was washed away, leaving the white foundations
bare. These ravines were hastily filled up with soil to protect the ice
from the action of the warm air and rain, and but for this precaution
the soil would have been everywhere perforated.
Great havoc was caused amongst the woods by this storm; the earth and
sand were washed away from the roots of the trees, which fell in large
numbers. In a single night the aspect of the country between the lake
and the former Port Barnett was completely changed. A few groups of
birch trees and thickets of firs alone remained—a fact significant of
approaching decomposition, which no human skill could prevent! Every one
knew and felt that the ephemeral inland was gradually succumbing—every
one, except perhaps Thomas Black, who was still gloomily indifferent to
all that was going on.
On the 23d of May, during the storm, the hunter Sabine left the house in
the thick fog, and was nearly drowned in a large hole which had opened
during the night on the site formerly occupied by the principal house of
the factory.
Hitherto, as we are aware, the house, three quarters submerged, and
buried beneath a mass of earth and sand, had remained fixed in the
ice-crust beneath the island; but now the sea had evidently enlarged the
crevasse, and the house with all it contained had sunk to rise no more.
Earth and sand were pouring through this fissure, at the bottom of which
surged the tempest-tossed waves
Sabine’s comrades, hearing his cries, rushed to his assistance, and
were just in time to save him as he was still clinging to the slippery
walls of the abyss. He escaped with a ducking which might have had
tragic consequences.
A little later the beams and planks of the house, which had slid under
the island, were seen floating about in the offing like the spars of a
wrecked vessel. This was the worst evil the storm had wrought, and would
compromise the solidity of the island yet more, as the waves would now
eat away the ice all round the crevasse.
In the course of the 25th May, the wind veered to the north-east,
and although it blew strongly, it was no longer a hurricane; the rain
ceased, and the sea became calmer. After a quiet night the sun rose
upon the desolate scene, the Lieutenant was able to take the bearings
accurately, and obtained the following result:—
At noon on the 25th May, Victoria Island was in latitude 56° 13’, and
longitude 170° 23’.
It had therefore advanced at great speed, having drifted nearly eight
hundred miles since the breaking up of the ice set it free in Behring
Strait two months before.
This great speed made the Lieutenant once more entertain a slight hope.
He pointed out the Aleutian Islands on the map to his comrades, and
said—
“Look at these islands; they are not now two hundred miles from us,
and we may reach them in eight days.”
“Eight days!” repeated Long, shaking his head; “eight days is a
long time.”
“I must add,” continued Hobson, “that if our island had followed
the hundred and sixty-eighth meridian, it would already have reached
the parallel of these islands, but in consequence of a deviation of the
Behring current, it is bearing in a south-westerly direction.”
The Lieutenant was right, the current seemed likely to drag the island
away from all land, even out of sight of the Aleutian Islands, which
only extend as far as the hundred and seventieth meridian.
Mrs Barnett examined the map in silence. She saw the pencil-mark which
denoted the exact spot then occupied by the island.
The map was made on a large scale, and the point representing the island
looked but a speck upon the vast expanse of the Behring Sea. She traced
back the route by which the island had come to its present position,
marvelling at the fatality, or rather the immutable law, by which the
currents which had borne it along had avoided all land, sheering
clear of islands, and never touching either continent; and she saw
the boundless Pacific Ocean, towards which she and all with her were
hurrying.
She mused long upon this melancholy subject, and at last exclaimed
suddenly—
“Could not the course of the island be controlled? Eight days at this
pace would bring us to the last island of the Aleutian group.”
“Those eight days are in the hands of God,” replied Lieutenant
Hobson gravely; “we can exercise no control upon them. Help can only
come to us from above; there is nothing left for us to try.”
“I know, I know!” said Mrs Barnett; “but Heaven helps those who
help themselves. Is there really nothing we can do?”
Hobson shook his head doubtfully. His only hope was in the raft, and he
was undecided whether to embark every one on it at once, contrive some
sort of a sail with clothes, &c., and try to reach the nearest land, or
to wait yet a little longer.
He consulted Sergeant Long, Mac-Nab, Rae, Marbre, and Sabine, in whom he
had great confidence, and all agreed that it would be unwise to abandon
the island before they were obliged. The raft, constantly swept as it
would be by the waves, could only be a last resource, and would not move
at half the pace of the island, still driven towards the south by the
remains of the ice-wall. The wind generally blew from the east, and
would be likely to drift the raft out into the offing away from all
land. They must still wait then, always wait; for the island was
drifting rapidly towards the Aleutians. When they really approached the
group they would be able to see what it would be best to do.
This was certainly the wisest course to take. In eight days, if the
present speed were maintained, the island would either stop at the
southern boundary of Behring Sea, or be dragged to the south west to the
waters of the Pacific Ocean, where certain destruction awaited it.
But the adverse fate which seemed all along to have followed the hapless
colonists had yet another blow in store for them: the speed on which
they counted was now to fail them, as everything else had done.
During the night of the 26th May, the orientation of the island changed
once more; and this time the results of the displacement were extremely
serious. The island turned half round, and the icebergs still remaining
of the huge ice-wall, which had shut in the northern horizon, were now
on the south.
In the morning the shipwrecked travellers—what name could be more
appropriate?—saw the sun rise above Cape Esquimaux instead of above
Port Barnett.
Hardly a hundred yards off rose the icebergs, rapidly melting, but still
of a considerable size, which till then had driven the island before
them. The southern horizon was now partly shut in by them.
What would be the consequences of this fresh change of position? Would
not the icebergs now float away from the island, with which they were no
longer connected?
All were oppressed with a presentiment of some new misfortune, and
understood only too well what Kellet meant when he exclaimed—
“This evening we shall have lost our screw!’“
By this Kellet meant that the icebergs, being before instead of behind
the island, would soon leave it, and as it was they which imparted to
it its rapid motion, in consequence of their very great draught of
water—their volume being six or seven feet below the sea level for
every one above—they would now go on without it, impelled by the
submarine current, whilst Victoria Island, not deep enough in the water
to come under the influence of the current, would be left floating
helplessly on the waves.
Yes! Kellet was right; the island would then be like a vessel with
disabled masts and a broken screw.
No one answered the soldier’s remark, and a quarter of an hour had
not elapsed before a loud cracking sound was heard. The summits of
the icebergs trembled, large masses broke away, and the icebergs,
irresistibly drawn along by the submarine current, drifted rapidly to
the south.