MISSING
It is at such times that a person realizes his helplessness and utter
dependence on the great Father of all. Too much are we prone to forget
such dependence, when all goes well, and too often the prayer for help
and guidance is put off until too late.
It was a commendable trait in all three of the parties whose
experience I have set out to tell that they never forgot their duty in
this all-important matter. Rob and Fred were full of animal life and
spirits, and the elder especially was inclined, from this very excess
of health and strength, to overstep at times the bounds of propriety,
but both remembered the lessons learned in infancy at the mother's
knee, and never failed to commend themselves to their heavenly parent,
not only on waking in the glad morning, but on closing their eyes at
night.
Jack Cosgrove had one of those impressionable natures, tinged with
innocent superstition, which is often seen in those of his calling.
His faith possessed the simplicity of a child, and, though many of his
doings might not square with those of a Christian, yet at heart he
devoutly believed in the all-protecting care of his Maker, and was
never ashamed, no matter what his surroundings, to call upon Him for
help and guidance.
And so, as the three pressed closer together, adjusting themselves as
best they could to pass the long, dismal hours ere the sun would shine
upon them again, they were silent, and all, at the same time, communed
with God, as fervently and trustfully as ever a dying Christian did
when stretched upon his bed of mortal illness.
Had they possessed a blanket among them they could have spread it upon
the ice, lain down upon it, and, wrapping it as best they could,
passed the night with a fair degree of comfort. That, however, was out
of the question. They, therefore, seated themselves under the lee, as
may be said of the mass of ice, which protected them against the gale,
their bodies pressed as closely together as well could be, and in this
sitting posture prepared to go to sleep, if it should so prove that
the blessing could be won.
One can become accustomed to almost anything. An abrupt change from
the comfortable cabin of the "Nautilus" to the bleak situation on the
iceberg would have filled them with a dread hardly less trying than
death itself; but they had already been in the situation long enough
to grow used to it. The ponderous swaying of the frozen structure, the
thunderous dash and roar of the waves against its base, the screaming
of the gale and the darkness of the arctic night; all these were
sounds and sensations which in a certain sense grew familiar to them
and did not disturb them as the hours passed.
It cannot be said that an icy seat or rest forms the most comfortable
support for the body, whose warmth is likely to melt the frozen
surface, but the thick clothing of the party did much to avert
unpleasant consequences. Had Jack or Rob or Fred been alone, the
penetrating cold most likely would have overcome him, but as has been
shown, the mutual warmth rendered their situation less trying than
would be supposed.
When an hour had passed, with only an occasional word spoken, Jack
addressed each of the boys in turn by name. There was no response, and
he spoke in a louder tone with the same result.
"They're asleep," he said to himself, "and I'm glad of it, though the
sleep that sometimes comes to a chap in these parts at such times is
the kind that doesn't know any waking in this world. I've no doubt,
howsumever, that they're all right."
With a vague uneasiness, natural under the circumstances, he passed
his hands over their faces and pinched their arms, as if to assure
himself there was no mistake.
The boys were so muffled up in their thick coats and sealskin caps
that were drawn about their ears, behind which the collars of their
coats were raised, that only the ends of their noses and a slight
portion of their cheeks could be felt. He removed his heavy mitten
from one hand, and, reaching under the protecting covering about the
cheeks and neck, found a healthy glow which told him all was well,
and, for the time at least, he need feel no further anxiety, so far as
they were concerned.
"Which being the case," he added, drawing on his mitten again, and
making sure their coverings were adjusted, "I'll take a little trip
myself into the land of nod."
But this trip was easier thought of than made. His rugged body, with
its powerful vitality, would have soon succumbed to drowsiness, could
his mind have been free of its distressing fear for the two young
friends under his charge. But, though he had said little, he knew far
more than he dare tell them. He had shown his alarm on discovering the
loss of the boat, but though some impatient expressions escaped him,
he did not explain what was in his mind.
His belief was that before morning should come the "Nautilus" would be
driven so far from her course that she would be nowhere in sight, and,
towering as was the iceberg in its height and proportions, it would be
invisible from the deck of the ship, or, if visible, could not be
identified among the others drifting through the icy ocean. Well
aware, too, he was of the terrific strength of the gale sweeping
across the deep, he trembled for the safety of the "Nautilus" and
those on board, hardly less than he did for himself and friends. The
hurricane was resistless in its power, and would drive the ship
whither it chose like a cockle-shell. Icebergs were moving hither and
thither through the darkness, less affected by the wind and waves than
the vessel, and a collision was among the possibilities, if not the
probabilities.
Inasmuch as the "Nautilus" was likely to go down under the fury of the
elements, or, if she rode through it, was certain to be too far
removed to be of help to the three, the question to consider was what
hope of escape remained to the latter.
Although vessels penetrate Baffin Bay and far into the Arctic Ocean,
they are so few in number that days and weeks may pass without any two
of them gaining sight of each other. A shipwrecked sailor afloat in
the South Sea, on a spar, was as likely to be picked up by some
trading ship as were Jack and his companions, by any of the whalers or
ships in that high latitude.
And then, supposing they did catch sight of some stray vessel, who of
the captain and crew would be looking for living persons on board an
iceberg? Why would they give the latter any more attention than the
scores of the mountainous masses afloat in their path and which it was
their first care to avoid?
If a ship should pass so near to them that they could make their
signals seen there would be hope; but the chances of anything of that
kind were too remote to be regarded.
Such being the outlook, where was there ground for hope? They were
beyond sight of the Greenland coast, and were doubtless drifting
farther away every hour. Nothing in the nature of succor was to be
hoped for from land, and the brave-hearted Jack was obliged to say to
himself that, so far as human eye could see, there was none from any
source. Cold, starvation, and death seemed among the certainties near
at hand.
And having reached this disheartening belief, he closed his eyes and
joined his young friends in the land of dreams.
Having sunk into slumber, the sailor was likely to remain so until
morning, unless some unexpected circumstance should break in upon his
rest, and it did.
It was Rob Carrol, who, probably because of his cramped position,
first regained consciousness. As his senses gradually came back to
him, and the thunder of the surges and the shrieking of the gale broke
in upon his brain, he stretched his benumbed limbs and yawned in an
effort to make his situation more comfortable.
It struck him that there had been a change in their relative positions
while asleep. Not wishing to awake his companions, he carefully
shifted his limbs and body, so as not to disturb them. While doing so,
he extended his hand to touch them.
He groped along one figure, which he knew at once was Jack, but he
felt no other. With a vague fear he straightened up, leaned over, and
hastily extended his arms about him, as far as he could reach. The
next moment he roughly shook the shoulder of the sailor, and called
out in a husky voice:
"Jack! Jack! wake up! Fred is gone!"