This is no joke of mine, because I have been at one, and Leonard and
Douglas on this memorable voyage had also the good luck to witness an
entertainment of the sort.
It only takes place at certain seasons of the year, always pretty far
south of the main ice pack, and always in a spot unfrequented by ships.
There is another _sine qua non_ connected with this garden party--
namely, plenty to eat, and whales do not require anything to drink, you
know. So the sea where the party is held is so full of a tiny shrimplet
that it is tinged in colour. But why do I call it a _garden_ party you
may ask; are there any flowers? Does not the sun shimmering on the
small icebergs already described, and on the clear ice itself, bring
forth a hundred various tints and colours, more gorgeously, more
radiantly beautiful than any flowers that ever bloomed and grew? Are
there not, too, at the sea bottom flowers of the deep--
"Many a flower that's born to blush unseen--"
Lovelier far than those that bloom on land? Yes, I am right in calling
it a garden party. But what do the whales do at this garden party of
theirs? Sail quietly round and look at each other? Discuss the
possibility of uniting in a body, and driving all the whaling fleet to
the bottom of the sea? Consider the prospects of the shrimp harvest, or
debate upon the best methods of extracting a harpoon from fin or tail,
and the easiest method of capsizing a boat? No; nothing of the sort.
They have met together to enjoy themselves, and in their own exceedingly
cumbersome way they do enjoy themselves. They enjoy themselves with a
force and a vengeance that is terrible to witness. The noise and
explosions of their wonderful gambols can be heard ten miles away on a
still night. To see a porpoise leap high out of the water like a salmon
is a fine sight, but to see two or three whales at one and the same time
thus disporting themselves, while some lie in the water beating time
with their terrible tails, others playing at leap frog, and the sea for
acres round them churned into froth and _meerschaum_, is a sight that
once seen can never be forgotten. The boldest harpooner that ever drew
breath would not venture near those gambolling whales, and I verily
believe that the biggest line-of-battle ships that ever floated would be
staved and sunk in the midst of that funny but fearful _maelstrom_.
This gives you, reader, but the very faintest notion of a whale's garden
party. It is one of the wonders of the world, and one which few have
ever seen and lived to tell of, for there is no surety of the huge
monsters not shifting ground at any moment, and sweeping down like a
whirlwind on some devoted ship.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The _Fairy Queen_ sailed on, and in due time sighted and passed Cape
Farewell, then northward ho! through Davis Straits to Baffin's Sea, and
here they had the great good luck to fall in with the vessels they had
come to succour.
Some delay was caused in unloading, and as the summer was now far
advanced, and Captain Blunt had no desire to winter in these dismal
regions, he was naturally anxious to get away south as soon as possible.
They were cleared at last, however, and bidding the research vessels
farewell, with three-times-three ringing cheers, all sail was set that
the ship could stagger under, and on she rushed through an open sea,
although there were plenty of icebergs about.
For a whole week everything went favourably and well. Then, alas! the
tide turned with a vengeance. One of those dense fogs so common in
these regions came down upon them like a wall, and so enveloped the ship
that it was impossible, standing at the windlass, to see the jibboom
end; and at the same time.
"Down dropt the wind, the sails dropt down,
'Twas sad as sad could be;
And we did speak only to break
The silence of the sea."
But worse was to come.
For now, up-looming through the dismal fog, came great green-ribbed
icebergs, the waves lapping at their feet and the spray washing their
dripping sides.
In the midst of so great a danger Captain Blunt felt powerless. There
was absolutely nothing to be done but wait and wait, and pray the good
Father to send a breeze.
When we pray earnestly for anything we should never forget to add the
words of Him Who spake as never man spake, and say, "Thy will be done."
No prayer is complete without that beautiful line; and yet, though easy
to _say_ it, it is--oh! so hard sometimes to _pray_ it. But then we
poor mortals do not know what is best for us.
In the present instance our heroes' prayers were not heard, and days and
weeks flew by; then the sky cleared, and they saw the sun once more, but
only to find themselves so surrounded by ice on all quarters that escape
was impossible. Besides, the season was now far gone, autumn was
wearing through, the sun was far south, and the nights getting long and
cold and dreary.
Frost now set in, and snow began to fall.
They were safe from all dangers for six months to come, at the least.
"Never mind," said Blunt cheerily to Leonard, "we have provisions enough
to last us for a year at the very least. So we must do the best to make
ourselves comfortable."
"That we will," replied Leonard, "though I fear our friends at home will
think we are lost."
"That is the only drawback--my dear wife and child, and your parents,
boys. Well, we are in the hands of Providence. God is here in these
solitudes, and just as easily found as if we were in the cathedral of
old St. Giles'."
It was indeed a dreary winter they passed in the midst of that frozen
sea. No sun, no light save moon or stars and the lovely aurora.
Silence deep as the grave, except--which was rare--when a storm came
howling over the pack, raising the snow in whirlwinds, and often hurling
off the peaked and jagged tops of the weird-looking icebergs.
But the sun appeared at last, and in due time. With a noise and
confusion that is indescribable the ice broke up, and the _Fairy Queen_
began to move slowly--oh, so slowly!--through the ice on her way
southwards, with danger on every quarter, danger ahead, and danger
astern. She sailed for many, many miles without a rudder; for lest it
should get smashed it had been unshipped, the men steering ahead by
means of boat and hawser, and the ship often being so close to an
iceberg that the tips of the yard arms touched, and when the berg moved
over with a wave it threw the vessel upwards from the bottom. On these
occasions poles were used to edge her off.
It was tedious work all this, but it came to an end at last, and the
water being now more open, the rudder was re-shipped, and more sail
clapped on, so that much better way was made.
Another week passed by. They were well south now in Davis Straits,
albeit the wind had been somewhat fickle.
They had high hopes of soon seeing the last of the ice, and both Douglas
and Leonard began to think of home, and talk of it also.
It was spring time once more. The larches, at all events, would be
green and tasselled with crimson in the woods around Glen Lyle,
primroses would be peeping out in cosy corners in moss-bedded copses,
and birds would be busy building, and the trees alive with the voice of
song.
"In three weeks more," said Douglas, "we ought to be stretching away
across the blue Atlantic, and within a measurable distance of dear old
Scotland."
"Ay, lad!" replied Leonard, "my heart jumps to my mouth with very joy to
think of it."
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In this great chart that lies before me, a chart of the Polar regions, I
can point out the very place, or near it, where the _Fairy Queen_ was
crushed in the ice as a strong man might crush a walnut, and sank like a
stone in the water, dragging down with her, so quickly did she go at
last, more than one of her brave crew, whose bones may lie in the black
depths of that inhospitable ocean,--
"Till the sea gives up its dead."
Midway 'twixt Nipzet Sound and Cape Mercy, just a little to the nor'ard
of Cumberland Gulf, I mark the point with a plus.
It was in a gale of wind, and at the dead of night, when she was
surrounded by an immense shoal of flat bergs, of giant proportions, and
staved irremediably. The water came roaring in below. Pumping was of
no avail. She must founder, and that very soon. So every effort
consonant with safety was made to embark upon the very icebergs that had
caused the grief. Stores and water were speedily got out, therefore,
and long ere the break of day the end came, the ship was engulphed.
There was no longer any _Fairy Queen_ to glide over the seas like a
thing of life--only two wave-washed bergs, each with a huddled crew of
hopeless shipwrecked mariners.
And these were already separating. They had bade each other adieu.
They were gliding away, or south or north or east or west, they knew not
whither.
Book 2--CHAPTER FIVE.