A POINT OF LIGHT
Jack Cosgrove was awake on the instant. Not until he had groped around
in the darkness and repeated the name of Fred several times in a loud
voice would he believe he was not with them.
"Well, by the great horned spoon!" he exclaimed, "that beats
everything. How that chap got away, and why he done it, and where he's
gone to gets me."
"I wonder if he took his gun," added Rob, stooping over and examining
the depression in the ice, where the three laid their weapons before
composing themselves for sleep; "yes," he added directly after, "he
took his rifle with him."
As may be supposed, the two were in a frenzied state of mind, and for
several minutes were at a loss what to do, if, indeed, they could do
anything. They knew not where to look for their missing friend, nor
could they decide as to what had become of him.
One fearful thought was in the minds of both, but neither gave
expression to it; each recoiled with a shudder from doing so. It was
that he had wandered off in his sleep and fallen into the sea.
Despite their distress and dismay, they noticed several significant
facts. The wind that blew like a hurricane when they closed their
eyes, had subsided. When they stood up, so that their heads arose
above the projections that had protected them, the breeze was so
gentle that it was hard to tell from which direction it came. It would
be truth to say there was no wind at all.
Further, there was a marked rise in the temperature. In fact, the
weather was milder than any experienced after leaving St. John, and
was remarked by Rob.
"You don't often see anything of the kind," replied the sailor;
"though I call something of the kind to mind on that voyage in these
parts in the 'Mary Jane,' which was smashed by the iceberg."
But their thoughts instantly reverted to the missing boy. Rob had
shouted to him again and again in his loudest tones, had whistled
until the echo rang in his own ears, and had listened in vain for the
response.
The tumultuous waves did not subside as rapidly as they arose. They
broke against the walls of the iceberg with decreasing power, but with
a boom and crash that it would seem threatened to shatter the vast
structure into fragments. There were occasional lulls in the
overpowering turmoil, which were used both by Rob and Jack in calling
to the missing one, but with no result.
"It's no use," remarked the sailor, after they had tired themselves
pretty well out; "wherever he is, he can't hear us."
"I wonder if he will ever be able to hear us," said Rob, in a choking
voice, peering around in the gloom, his eyes and ears strained to the
highest tension.
"I wish I knew," replied Jack, who, though he was as much distressed
as his companion, was too thoughtful to add to the grief by any words
of his own. "I hope the lad is asleep somewhere in these parts, but I
don't know nothing more about him than you."
"And I know nothing at all."
"Can you find out what time it is?"
That was easily done. Stooping down so as to protect the flame from
any chance eddy of wind, Rob ignited a match on his clothing and
looked at his watch.
"We slept longer than I imagined, Jack; day-break isn't more than
three or four hours off."
"That's good, but them hours will seem the longest that you ever
passed, my hearty."
There could be no doubt on that point, as affected both.
"Why, Jack," called out Rob, "the stars are shining."
"Hadn't you observed that before? Yes; there's lots of the twinklers
out, and the storm is gone for good."
Every portion of the sky except the northern showed the glittering
orbs, and, for the moment, Rob forgot his grief in the surprise over
the marked change in the weather.
"This mildness will bring another change afore long," remarked Jack.
"What's that?"
"Fogs. We'll catch it inside of twenty-four hours, and some of them
articles in this part of the world will beat them in London town;
thick enough for you to lean against without falling."
As the minutes passed, with the couple speculating as to what could
have happened to Fred Warburton, their uneasiness became so great that
they could not remain idle. They must do something or they would lose
command of themselves.
Rob was on the point of proposing a move, with little hope of its
amounting to anything, when the sailor caught his arm.
"Do you see that?"
The darkness had so lifted that the friends could distinguish each
other's forms quite plainly, and the lad saw that Jack had extended
his arm, and was pointing out to sea. The fellow was startled, as he
had good cause to be.
Apparently not far off was something resembling a star, low down in
the horizon and gliding over the surface of the deep. Now and then it
disappeared, but only for a moment. At such times it was evidently
shut from sight by the crests of the intervening waves.
It was moving steadily from the right to the left, the friends, of
course, being unable to decide what points of the compass these were.
Its motion in rising and sinking, vanishing and then coming to view
again, advancing steadily all the while, left no doubt as to its
nature.
"It's the 'Nautilus'!" exclaimed Rob; "Captain McAlpine is looking for
us."
"That's not the 'Nautilus'," said Jack; "for she doesn't show her
lights in that fashion. Howsumever, it's a craft of some kind, and if
we can only make 'em know we're here they'll lay by and take us off in
the morning."
As the only means of reaching the ears of the strangers the two began
shouting lustily, varying the cries as fancy suggested. In addition,
Jack fired his gun several times.
While thus busied they kept their gaze upon the star-like point of
light on which their hopes were fixed.
It maintained the same dancing motion, all the while pushing forward,
for several minutes after the emission of the signals.
"She has stopped!" was the joyful exclamation of Rob, who postponed a
shout that was trembling on his lips; "they have heard us and will
soon be here."
Jack was less hopeful, but thought his friend might be right. The
motion of the star from left to right had almost ceased, as if the
boat was coming to a halt. Still the sailor knew that the same effect
on their vision would be produced if the vessel headed either away
from or toward the iceberg; it was one of these changes of direction
that he feared had taken place.
Up and down the light bobbed out of sight for a second, then gleaming
brightly as if the obscuring clouds had been brushed aside from the
face of the star, which shone through the intervening gloom like a
beacon to the wanderer.
"Yes, they are coming to us," added Rob, forgetting his lost friend in
his excitement; "they will soon be here. I wonder they don't hail us."
"Don't be too sartin, lad," was the answer of the sailor; "if the boat
was going straight from us it would seem for a time as though she was
coming this way; I b'lieve she has changed her course without a
thought of us."
They were cruel words, but, sad to say, they proved true. The time was
not long in coming when all doubt was removed. The star dwindled to a
smaller point than ever, seemed longer lost to view, until finally it
was seen no more.
"Do you suppose they heard us?" asked Rob, when it was no longer
possible to hope for relief from that source.
"Of course not; if they had they would have behaved like a Christian,
and stood by and done what they could."
"Ships are not numerous in this latitude, and it may be a long time
before we see another."
"The chances p'int that way, and yet you know there's a good many
settlements along the Greenland coast. It isn't exactly the place I'd
choose for a winter residence--especially back in the country--but
there are plenty who like it."
"In what way can that affect us?"
"There are ships passing back and forth between Denmark and Greenland,
and a number v'yage to the United States, and I'm hoping we may be run
across by some of them--Hark!"