THE DISAPPEARANCE.
To return to the little party upon the ice.
We left our friend Stump, sitting in a very uncomfortable position,
near the edge of the frozen block, and complaining because the lovers
had not yet unfastened his bonds.
“Oh, a thousand pardons, my dear friend!” replied Alice, blushing
deeply. “It was, indeed, very wrong, on my part, to forget you.”
“I am more to blame, Alice, than you are,” interrupted Marline,
drawing his sheath-knife, and proceeding to cut the cords from the
wrists and ankles of the prostrate seaman. “Ay, ay, old chum,” he
added, as Stump, with a sigh of relief, arose to his feet, and began
to kick the “cramp” from his little legs; “it is all my fault that
you were overlooked.”
“Never mind apologies, now,” replied Stump, “seeing as the way you
acted was parfectly nat’ral, considering that you hadn’t met for half
an hour. But those pow-wows, twist ’em, have sarved us a lubberly
trick; for, besides taking the ship, they haven’t left me a drop of
’ile to grease my pigtail with!”
“Your pigtail, friend Jack, is of but little consequence, at
present,” said the harpooner; “it will doubtless need oiling more
than it does now, before we are picked up.”
“Ay, ay, there’s some truth in that last,” retorted Stump, with a
mournful “grin,” “and I’m sorry for it, because I always like to keep
the ‘thing’ neat and shining like, when there’s a young lass to look
at it.”
“Then you may set your mind at ease, my friend,” said Alice, kindly,
“for I like the pigtail as well without it as with it.”
“The Stumps always wore ’em ’iled,” said the shipkeeper, shaking his
head; “but it’s consoling to me, at any rate, Miss Alice, to hear you
say that you like mine as well when it doesn’t shine as when it does.”
“We are certainly in a very disagreeable situation, at present,” said
Marline.
“There’s no disputing that p’int,” replied Stump, as he threw a
woeful glance around him. “There isn’t a very fine prospectus spread
out before us, seeing as these cold blocks and bergs of ice don’t
look quite as comfortable as the quarters we are used to. Then,
again, we ain’t got any provision to live on, which is another
parfectly overpowering consideration.”
“It’s a pity,” said Marline, “that the captain and his crew did not
remain aboard the ship, as they are accustomed to do. Then all this
trouble would have been prevented. You and I, Stump, can easily
endure the hardships before us; but, with Alice, it is different.”
“Indeed,” said the captain’s niece, assuming a gay tone; “you will
find that I can bear them, too. Besides,” she continued, “as soon
as the fog clears, we will see the other boats, and then we can go
ashore, and build a tent, and make a good fire.”
“All this will come to pass, in time, I have no doubt,” replied
Harry, “and very soon, too, if Briggs and the men, who left me about
an hour before the ship stove my boat, have succeeded in their
purpose, which was to find our friends. But, if they have failed, and
have lost themselves, we may have to pass the night upon the ice, and
perhaps a great portion of the next day, for this fog, in my opinion,
will be of long duration.”
“Never mind,” said the young girl. “You perceive I have a thick
fur cloak, which will keep me warm enough, under almost any
circumstances; but you and Stump, I am sorry to see, are not very
thickly clad.”
The two seamen laughed, good-humoredly.
“We are used to roughing it, as you know, Alice,” said Harry, “and
don’t feel the cold.”
“Ay, ay,” cried Stump, “that’s it; our hides are as tough as
bull-fish, and we can only feel consarn on your account, sweet lass,
for it must be owned that this fog isn’t as good for your lungs as
the steam from a cup of tea.”
“It won’t hurt me, nevertheless,” said Alice, smiling; “for I have a
good constitution, and you know I have remained on the deck of the
Montpelier, in a thick fog, and when the weather was much colder than
it is now.”
“Well, blast my eyes!” cried Stump, in admiration, “if ever I saw
such a parfect little duck of a philosopher before! There are few
women that could speak so cheery-like under present sarcumstances.”
“You are right, there, chum,” said Harry, warmly. “I have seen girls,
before now, that would do nothing but moan and faint, were they to
find themselves in a predicament of this kind.”
Alice did not attempt to conceal the glowing manifestations of
pleasure that her lover’s compliment called forth upon her cheek, and
in her eyes. But, before the blush and the smile had faded from her
face--with the natural desire to defend her sisters, which animates
the bosom of every true-hearted woman--she added:
“It is hardly just, Harry, to imply that any woman would act
unbecomingly under circumstances in which you have never seen her
placed. A girl, who shrinks and trembles when threatened with some
light misfortune, may show much bravery and fortitude upon occasions
of great peril.”
“True enough,” said the harpooner; “but you must acknowledge,” he
added, smiling, “that there are some young women who, by their
general behavior alone, give the most unequivocal proofs of a nature
too weak and frivolous to evince resolution, or unselfish devotion,
under any circumstances.”
“That’s so,” put in Stump, “and Molly Banks, of Nantucket, was one of
them kind. In my young days, I made a lubber of myself, by proposing
to splice hands with that young she. But, she hadn’t enough devotion
in her natur’, she said, to marry a man that wore a pigtail.” This
took me all aback, as well it might; says I, “Why, Molly,” says I,
“the Stumps always wore ’em, and mine is very becoming to me!”
“Nonsense!” says she, “it’s too old-fashioned; I’d never have courage
to take a husband with one of them things.”
“All right,” says I, as I sheered off, “a woman that hasn’t neither
devotion nor courage, isn’t to _my_ taste.”
“You are a sensible man, Jack,” cried Harry, smiling. “I think I
should have acted in the same manner, had I been in your place.”
“The damsel was certainly unworthy of you, friend Stump, and showed
herself to be a very frivolous creature,” said Alice.
She drew her cloak more closely about her as she spoke, for a cold,
drizzling rain had just commenced to fall, increasing the chilliness
of the atmosphere, and dampening the young girl’s cheeks and the
thick braids of her hair.
Her lover, who had been watching her with tender concern, now
motioned to Stump, and made his way to the spot near which the boat
that Lark had provided for their accommodation had been stove and
sunk. The wreck of the little craft was still partially visible, for,
as the two men perceived, upon making an examination of it, the keel
had become wedged in a narrow fissure that extended across a shelf of
ice about a foot and a half beneath the surface of the water.
“This is fortunate!” cried the harpooner, “for the wreck and its
contents will be of great service to us. We can pull the boat out of
the water, I think, with a little exertion.”
“Ay, ay,” replied Stump, “we can do it with the help of some of the
whale line--a few coils of which are still left in one of the tubs,
as you can see for yourself.”
The young man threw off his jacket, as his shipmate spoke, and rolled
up one of his shirt sleeves to his shoulder. Then stooping over
the edge of the ice, he plunged his naked arm into the partially
submerged boat, and seizing the end of the rope to which the
shipkeeper had alluded, he drew it up and proceeded to coil the
line upon the surface of the frozen raft. After this task had been
accomplished, a part of the rope was secured to the shattered bow
of the boat, whose contents, consisting of a few lances, a couple
of harpoons, a hatchet, a small bucket of tar with a brush, the two
line-tubs, the boatsail, a few large chunks of salt beef, a breaker
of fresh water--another containing hard bread--and a few of the other
articles, were taken out. Then both Marline and his chum grasped that
part of the line which was about a fathom from the place where it was
fastened, and tugged and strained at it until they had succeeded in
raising the head of the vessel above the edge of the ice. A quarter
of an hour’s work accomplished the rest, and, as the shattered craft
lay dripping before them, upon the ice, the little party exchanged
glances of the most intense satisfaction.
“We’ll soon have a shelter rigged for you now, Alice,” said the
harpooner, as the young girl, who had been watching the operations of
her lover with much interest, glided to his side.
She looked up gratefully into his face as he spoke, and placed her
hand upon his arm.
“How will you do it?” she inquired, “with that broken boat and those
line-tubs?”
“You shall see,” replied Marline, and drawing his sheath knife, he
commenced to cut the pieces of rope-yarn that held the sail to the
mast.
It had previously been unrolled by Stump, and as the last rope-yarn
was severed, the shipkeeper twisted the cloth into as small a compass
as possible. Both men then seized it and began to wring it out, for
it had become thoroughly soaked, and required a “little drying”
before it could be used for the purposes in view. The manner in which
the two seamen handled the cloth as they squeezed it, seemed droll
enough to Alice, and more than once, as Harry glanced toward her, he
saw a sly smile hovering about the corners of her mouth. The task,
however, was soon accomplished, and, spreading out the sail, the
harpooner then proceeded to cover it with a coat of tar, so that the
rain might not penetrate the cloth; while Stump, in accordance with
the directions of the young man, lashed one of the line-tubs--turned
upon its side--to the after part of the boat, and the other in like
manner to the forward part. An oar was then placed lengthways above
the vessel, with each of its ends resting upon one of the tubs,
to which it was securely fastened in a short time by the skillful
fingers of the harpooner and his companion.
The tarred sail was then thrown across the oar and secured to the
broken gunwales, in such a manner as to form quite a respectable
roof, and which could be opened at any moment on one side. So much
having been done, the young man seized the hatchet, and knocking
away all the thwarts, with the exception of one, gave them to Stump,
directing him to stop up the holes in the sides of the vessel with
them, as well as he could. While the shipkeeper was engaged in this
duty, Marline examined the inside bottom of the boat, and was glad
to perceive that the planks which covered it were still in good
condition.
He wiped them with a piece of canvas, until they were as dry as he
could make them in this manner; and then, with the roll of sail-cloth
that had been found among the other contents of the vessel, he
assisted Stump in his efforts to stop up some of the many crevices
and holes in the broken bows and sides of the boat.
“There, Alice!” he cried, springing out upon the ice, as soon as this
duty was finished, “you can now go into your ark, which will at least
keep you from getting wet.”
“It is very nice,” said the young girl, “but is there room for us
all?”
“Oh yes, in case we should care to go in. But Jack and I prefer to
stay outside for the present, so as to watch for Briggs and his
party, or for any of the boats.”
As he spoke, he seized the hand that Alice extended to him, and
helped her into the vessel--his heart throbbing with delight as
he listened to the praises that she lavished upon the simple
accommodations which had been prepared for her.
“It is almost as warm and snug here,” she said, when she had seated
herself, “as the cabin of the Montpelier.”
“My eyes!” whispered Stump in Harry’s ear, “it’s a raal pleasure to
do any thing for this gal; she takes every thing so ship-shape and
sailor-like!”
“I am glad it pleases you, Alice,” said Marline, “but with the help
of a few blankets it might have been improved.”
“Indeed, Harry, there is not the least need of them, so far as I am
concerned, for I have my cloak, which will keep me warm enough.”
The harpooner was about to reply, when Stump twitched his arm,
causing him to turn his head.
The shipkeeper moved to the edge of the ice-raft, by a wink of the
eye implying that he desired Marline to follow him. Wondering what
he could wish to say to him, of a secret nature, the young man made
his way to the side of his companion, who then addressed him in a low
voice:
“I didn’t wish to alarm the gal,” said he, “but you can perceive
that the tide is changing, and that we’ll soon, on that account, be
drifting in a direction that won’t be likely to carry us toward the
boats.”
“Ay, ay, that’s true enough,” said the harpooner; “I expected it; but
we must trust to Providence.”
“Them that trusts entirely to that,” said Stump, oracularly,
“don’t always come out right in the end, which isn’t the fault
of Providence, hows’ever, but the fault of them that don’t take
advantage of the chances and such like which it offers to ’em to get
out of their scrapes. There was a chaplain on board of the Minerva, a
craft that I once sailed in, and during a terrific gale that we had,
the ship leaked badly and we’d all have gone to Davy Jones, if we had
taken the advice of the Bible-man, who wanted us to leave the pumps
and pray to God to save the vessel. My eyes! she would have gone down
in no time if we’d done that; but the captain was a sensible man, and
ordered us to pump away, by which means we saved the craft, which we
wouldn’t have done if we had leaned on Providence!”
“You did perfectly right in your case,” said the young man, “and your
words would seem to imply that there is some means that Providence
offers us to get out of our present uncomfortable situation. If so I
should be glad to hear you explain yourself.”
“Here goes, then,” replied Stump, smoothing his pigtail. “The land,
you know, is not much more than a league to the east’ard of us, and
we have a couple of oars. With them oars, it’s my honest opinion that
we might contrive to work this block of ice that we are standing on,
to the shore, which would be much better than to let the current
carry us any further from the boats. As to Briggs and his party,
there is no use waiting for them, for we couldn’t do ’em any good if
they should come.”
“True enough!” exclaimed Harry. “I wonder that this plan did not
occur to me. We had better go to work at once!”
And the two men were preparing themselves for the task, when the
sound of a horn, blown from a distance which could not have been
greater than a quarter of a mile from the spot they occupied, saluted
their ears. The noise was repeated several times, and it drew the
pretty Alice from her miniature ark.
“Surely, Harry, that is one of our boats,” she said, moving to the
side of the young man. “Oh, I am so glad!”
“It is a pity that we have no horn,” said the harpooner, in a voice
of regret, “otherwise we could now make our position known.”
“But the boat will come to us as things are, perhaps,” suggested
Alice.
“It may, or it may not,” answered Harry. “I think it very likely that
it will turn off in some other direction before it gets here, and for
that reason, I think I shall try to go to _it_.”
“Oh no!” cried the young girl, anxiously. “Briggs and his party ought
to serve as a warning to you. I would not do so, for the world. You
will certainly lose yourself as the others have done.”
“You have not the least reason to be alarmed, Alice,” retorted the
young man; “the boats were much further off when Briggs left me than
this one is now, and besides I have only to go in a straight line to
get to it.”
This assurance somewhat quieted the fears of Alice, but, some minutes
elapsed before the persuasions of her lover could reconcile her to
his departure. At length, however, impressing a kiss upon her cheek,
and assuring her that he would soon be back, he moved away, leaving
the young girl to watch him until the fog had shut his form from her
view.
Even then she did not stir from her position, but kept her eyes
turned toward the spot where Marline had disappeared; and as minute
after minute passed, she still remained, gently refusing to comply
with the entreaties of Stump, who wished her to return to the ark
that she might not be exposed to the rain.
Half an hour passed, still, neither her lover nor the boat appeared
to calm her uneasiness; and when the time had lengthened into a
full hour, she turned her pale, agitated countenance toward the
shipkeeper, and expressed her anxiety in a tremulous voice.
“There’s not the least reason to be alarmed, Miss Alice,” said Stump,
“not the least. The lad has probably reached the boat long before
this, and has got into it. But it is probably so jammed in the ice,
that they can’t get here in a moment.”
The young girl shook her head.
“No, no!” she cried, “he wouldn’t have entered the boat; he would
have come right back after finding it, if nothing had happened!”
Perceiving that he was unable to calm her fears, the shipkeeper
reflected a moment and then drew a small pocket compass from his
Guernsey, and looked at it. He had formed the resolution to go in
search of Marline.
“I’ll bring you news of the lad in a short time,” he said, turning to
the young girl and exhibiting the compass. “This instrument will let
me know my bearings, so that I can easily find my way back.”
“You will soon return, my friend?”
“Ay, ay, bless you, very soon, for I’ve sworn to stick to you, and my
conscience wouldn’t allow me to remain long absent.”
And ducking his head, by way of a bow, Stump departed, presenting
a comical figure, as he leaped from berg to berg. He made his way,
with a celerity which would not have been expected of a man of his
proportions--moving in the direction of the horn which was still
blowing, but which, it struck him, did not sound so near as it did an
hour before.
This circumstance made him feel uneasy, for, if Harry had succeeded
in reaching the boat, it would not now be receding instead of
advancing. He hurried on, however, until a sloping iceberg, about ten
feet high and fifteen feet in length, barred his further progress.
This he would be obliged to scale before he could proceed, for he
could not go around it on account of a channel of water, too wide to
cross, that bounded it on each side. He looked up dubiously at the
top of the frozen pile, and, while still hesitating at its base, he
fancied he heard a shout close to his ear.
He looked around in amazement, and as he did so, the cry was
repeated, this time louder than before, and seeming to emerge from
the very heart of the iceberg.
“Who is that?” cried the shipkeeper, “and where are you?”
“It is I--Harry Marline,” retorted the voice. “Is that you, Stump?”
“Ay, ay, it’s me, bless your eyes, but skin me if I see how you could
have condensed yourself so as to get into this solid chunk of ice!”
“You are mistaken,” retorted the laughing voice of the harpooner,
“there’s a rift in the berg like a ravine. You can see it if you
climb to the top where I was before I slipped into it.”
“And is this where you’ve been all the time?”
“Yes. The inner sides of my quarters are so slippery that I can’t
climb them! You had better get a rope and--”
“I have a bunch of ratlin stuff in my pocket!” interrupted Stump, who
generally carried a little of every thing useful about him, “which I
guess will do.”
And pulling out the bunch of rigging, he fastened one of its ends to
his pigtail--for he did not like the taste of tar sufficiently to put
the strands in his mouth--and proceeded to scramble to the top of the
ice, which he finally gained with much difficulty. Peering through
the mouth of the rift, he saw the upturned face of Marline, toward
which he now lowered the disengaged end of the piece of rigging. It
was soon in the young man’s hand, and Stump was about to unfasten the
other end from the pendent mass of hair, so as to secure it to one of
the rough projections of ice, when his foot slipped, causing him to
descend half way down the frozen declivity, which he had mounted with
so much trouble, and where he now hung suspended by his pigtail to
the rope; for the young harpooner, believing that his corpulent chum
was clinging to it with his hands, and that he was doing him a good
service by holding on to the piece of rigging, had not allowed it to
escape his grasp!
So there hung the stout little shipkeeper, kicking his legs, and
vociferating in an excited manner, until at length he succeeded in
turning himself and grasping the rope with both hands.
“You sarved me a bad trick, Marline, without knowing it,” he said, as
soon as he had regained the top of the berg. “Blast me if I think my
pigtail will ever recover from the effects of it.”
And he then proceeded to explain the predicament in which he had
been placed. The harpooner expressed his sympathy and regret, after
which Stump proceeded very carefully to fasten the rope to an icy
projection near the mouth of the crevice.
Assured that the rope was perfectly secure, Harry clambered hand over
hand, until he had gained the top of the berg, and then expressed his
intention of continuing his search for the boats.
“As for you, Stump,” he added, “you had better make your way back
to Alice, as speedily as possible, so as to calm her fears on my
account.”
“Willingly enough will I do that,” replied the shipkeeper, gently
smoothing his ruffled pigtail, “for I’m mightily tired of this
ice-cruising business--I’ll give you my word for that.”
The two men separated, soon afterward, but not until Stump had
presented the pocket-compass to his chum and delivered a long tirade
upon its merits.
“You are sure you can find your way back--are you not?” shouted
Harry, after he had gone a few paces.
“Ay, ay,” responded Stump, “there isn’t a doubt upon that p’int. All
I have to do is to follow my nose, which won’t twist either to the
right or the left, seeing as its parfectly flat.”
Each of the seamen then continued his course--the shipkeeper waddling
along toward the spot where he had left Alice, which was not more
than five hundred yards from the scene of his late adventure, and
the young harpooner darting swiftly forward in the direction of the
blowing horn.
Stump strained his eyes, as he neared the point of his destination,
eager to get a glimpse of the captain’s fair niece. In order to
relieve her anxiety as soon as possible, he kept up a continual
shouting as he advanced.
“It’s all right, Miss Alice--bless your pretty eyes--it’s all right!
I’ve seen him, I have, and he’s well and hearty! He was penned up in
a sort of seal-hole, but I got him out of it in quick time, and he’s
now started off again after the boats.”
Quickening his pace as he moved on, he had soon made so much progress
that the little ark, looming up through the fog, directly ahead of
him, suddenly broke upon his view. Then looking around him in every
direction, and not seeing Alice, he stopped short, and rubbed his
eyes, to make sure that they had not been disarranged in such a
manner as to deceive him.
The next moment he laughed very quietly to himself.
“What a lubber I am getting to be, to think that the poor gal would
have stood where I left her all this time. She’s gone into her little
cubby-hole, and is now, I dare say, a-grieving and taking on in a sad
fashion. And that’s why she didn’t answer my shouting as I came on.
Ay, ay, that’s it, sure enough!”
Eager to soothe the young girl with the news of her lover’s safety,
he hurried forward until he had gained the side of the boat, when he
hastily threw aside the end of the tarred cloth that covered it. To
his astonishment and dismay, the vessel was empty!
* * * * *
Little did the harpooner imagine this as he moved onward over the
floating bergs. Hope made his step light and his heart buoyant. The
horn was still being blown, and he doubted not that he would soon
reach the boat. Suddenly, however, the sound of the instrument became
hushed. He paused, waiting in vain for a repetition of the familiar
notes. He heard only the whispering noise of the rain, the gurgling
of the seal, as it rolled about in the water, impatient for the
sunshine, and the cry of the northern bird, as it wheeled in circles
through the foggy air. Now and then, it is true, a louder and more
startling noise would salute his ears, when some huge mass of ice,
becoming loosened on the summit of a miniature cathedral, would fall,
with a tremendous crash, to the base of the tower.
He continued his search a quarter of an hour longer, when his further
progress was prevented by a channel not less than fifteen feet wide,
and which separated the floe into two parts. As he was turning to
retrace his steps, his attention was drawn to a number of little
eddies that suddenly appeared upon the surface of the water. Round
and round they whirled, becoming larger every moment. A peculiar
noise, resembling the distant rolling of a drum, rose up from the
depths of the sea. The berg upon which he stood, trembled like a rock
when the rumbling earthquake approaches its foundation. At length
the little whirlpools vanished; the water bubbled and broke into
ripples--then parted with a roar, as the hump of a huge whale rose
above the surface. Marline had no difficulty in recognizing this
monster as the same from which Briggs had been obliged to ‘cut;’ for
he saw his own irons protruding from its body. The barbed instruments
seemed to madden the creature with pain. It rolled and plunged from
side to side, so furiously lashing the water with its flukes, that
the harpooner was enveloped in clouds of spray. In order to escape
this uncomfortable shower-bath, he ascended a “crystal tower,” the
upper part of which, though out of range of the flying drops of
water, yet afforded him a good view of the whale. He continued to
watch the monster with much interest, feeling sorry that he had not
the means with which to put an end to its sufferings. The noise
of its spouting was inexpressibly mournful; it was not unlike the
half-smothered shriek of a drowning man, heard amid the roaring of
the blast. Soon, however, the animal became silent: for a few seconds
it remained nearly motionless: then it rushed quickly backward and
breached (sprung upward) nearly its full length out of the sea. For
an instant, with its fins extended and the tremendous proportions of
its body fully exposed, it hovered in the air, and then came crashing
down with a noise like the bursting of a thunder-bolt! The upheaving
waters dashing against the icebergs, agitated them on all sides. The
frozen mass occupied by Marline, rocked so violently that he could
scarcely maintain his position. He descended from it just in time to
catch a glimpse of the whale’s uplifted flukes, as the monster dove
into the green depths of the sea.
“Ay, ay,” he muttered, sorrowfully, “there it goes at last--back
again to its watery chambers below, as though it would flee from the
torturing pain caused by those barbed irons. Would to heaven that we
had succeeded in killing it! It must suffer terribly!”
He turned, and, glancing at the compass in his possession, hurried
off, with the intention of returning to the ark. He had not gone
far, however, when he heard upon his right a light pattering noise,
such as a dog might have made in running over the ice. His curiosity
being excited, he moved in the direction of the sound, peering keenly
through the fog as he advanced. The footfalls receded rapidly, but
pressing steadily forward, the young man was enabled, before long, to
distinguish the faint outline of some animal gliding swiftly on ahead
of him. He quickened his steps into a run; as he did so the object
disappeared behind an iceberg. Marline soon gained the frozen mass,
but the creature, whatever it was, had vanished.
“This is strange!” muttered the harpooner. “The animal must be pretty
swift of foot to get out of my sight so quickly; though it is true
the fog would hide it, if it were only a few yards from me. Perhaps,
however, it has crawled into some hollow in the ice.”
So saying, he commenced to peer into the nooks and crevices among the
bergs, after which he climbed to their summits to look for rifts,
using his boat-hatchet freely when he encountered any rugged mass
that might contain a secret chamber; but his search was unrewarded.
He thrust the hatchet in his belt, and had turned once more for
the purpose of making his way to the ark, when his glance fell
upon an object that caused him to utter an exclamation of surprise
and horror. He advanced a few steps to assure himself that he was
not deceived by any peculiarity in the formation of the ice; then
he moved to the side of the object and eyed it closely. It was
the skeleton of a human being, extended upon a shelf of ice that
protruded from the lower part of a lofty berg. Bleached by wind and
sunshine it had evidently lain here for many weeks. Every particle
of flesh had been stripped from its bones by some hungry bear that
had been cast adrift upon the floe. It lay upon its back so that its
hollow sockets, partially glazed over with ice, were turned upward as
if it were trying to discover whether or not its spirit had passed
to the ethereal shores of Heaven. Marline gazed upon it for a long
time, and then clapped his hand to his brow, as though some sudden
recollection had flashed across his mind.
“Ay, ay!” he exclaimed, as he pointed to the broken ribs of the
skeleton; “it must be so! The remains before me are none other than
those of George Wills, whose story was related to me by one of the
crew of the Comus, a week ago.”
He turned away with a sigh, and once more consulting his compass,
moved off in the direction of the ark.
The story of which he had spoken, may be told in a few words.
George Wills, a native of Nantucket, sailed from New Bedford in the
whaler Comus, on the 18th of September, 18--. Being a strong, active
young man, and an excellent sailor, he was soon promoted from a
foremast hand to the position of harpooner in the mate’s boat. In
due course of time the vessel arrived upon the whaling grounds, in
the Ochotsk Sea, where there was no lack of opportunities for the
new boat-steerer to try his skill in wielding the barbed iron. Much
to his own satisfaction and that of the first officer, he proved as
expert in this work as he was in handling the marlinespike and the
oar.
One morning the four boats were got ready for one of those protracted
whale-hunts so common in the north-west. The crews were provided with
a plentiful stock of provisions and fresh water, as they intended to
remain absent from the ship for several days. George Wills being very
partial to expeditions of this kind, was in excellent spirits. Little
did he imagine the gloomy fate in store for him.
At five o’clock, A. M., the boats were lowered; and after pulling
about fifteen miles from the ship, the crews sighted whales in a
large floe to leeward. The eight vessels were soon in the ice, and
separating, each gave chase to a whale. Before long the mate’s boat
was within five fathoms of a huge bowhead.
“Stand up, George!”
“Ay, ay, sir!”
“Give it to him!”
But before the harpooner could dart, he received a blow upon
the breast from the whale’s ponderous flukes, and fell over the
gunwale--dead!
“Ay, ay, he’s gone, sure enough--poor Wills!” exclaimed the mate, as
the men dragged the body into the boat. “I don’t know where I shall
find another like him. There blows! there blows! right ahead of us!
Put the body in the ice, men, and do it quickly but gently. God have
mercy on the poor fellow’s soul! There blows! blows! blows! Lively
with that body, lads, it’s high time we were after that whale! We’ll
come back and pick up the corpse after we’ve captured that ‘oil-but!’
Heaven pity Wills’ poor old mother! Come, men, bear a hand there;
one hundred barrels a-waiting for us to come and take ’em! Poor
Wills!--he’s gone to that ‘boom’ from which no man returns! What
d’ye say, men, are you ready?”
The men having by this time placed the body upon a shelf of ice,
sprung into the boat and seized their paddles. The whale was
overtaken and fastened to; but after it had towed the boat a long
distance, the line became “foul” and the mate was obliged to cut.
A thick fog having risen in the mean time, he was now unable to
find the spot where the body of George Wills had been left. After
pulling in many different directions for a number of hours, he gave
up the search. On the next day, the fog having cleared, the search
was continued, but without success. The body was never found by the
crew of the Comus, and, as the reader already knows, it was only
mere chance that directed the footsteps of Marline to the ice-tomb
containing the fleshless remains. Leaving him to muse upon his
melancholy discovery, while pursuing his way toward the ark, we will
now return to Stump.