THE OPEN SEA.
Next morning by eight o'clock all the remaining effects were on
board, and the preparations for departure completed. But before
starting the Doctor thought he would like to take a last look at the
country and see if any further traces of the presence of strangers
could be discovered, for the mysterious footmarks they had met with
were never out of his thoughts. He climbed to the top of a height
which commanded a view of the whole southern horizon, and took out
his pocket telescope. But what was his astonishment, to find he
could see nothing through it, not even neighbouring objects. He
rubbed his eyes and looked again, but with no better result. Then he
began to examine the telescope, the object glass was gone!
The object glass! This explained the whole mystery, foot-prints and
all; and with a shout of surprise he hurried down the hill to impart
his discovery to the wondering companions, who came running towards
him, startled by his loud exclamation, and full of anxiety at his
precipitate descent.
"Well, what is the matter now?" said Johnson.
The Doctor could hardly speak, he was so out of breath. At last he
managed to gasp out—
"The tracks, footmarks, strangers."
"What?" said Hatteras, "strangers here?"
"No, no, the object glass; the object glass out of my telescope."
[Illustration]
And he held out his spy-glass for them to look at.
"Ah! I see," said Altamont; "it is wanting."
"Yes."
"But then the footmarks?"
"They were ours, friends, just ours," exclaimed the Doctor.
"We had lost ourselves in the fog, and been wandering in a
circle."
"But the boot-marks," objected Hatteras.
"Bell's. He walked about a whole day after he had lost his snow
shoes."
"So I did," said Bell.
The mistake was so evident, that they all laughed heartily, except
Hatteras, though no one was more glad than he at the discovery.
A quarter of an hour afterwards the little sloop sailed out of
Altamont Harbour, and commenced her voyage of discovery. The wind
was favourable, but there was little of it, and the weather was
positively warm.
The sloop was none the worse for the sledge journey. She was in
first-rate trim, and easily managed. Johnson steered, the Doctor,
Bell, and the American leaned back against the cargo, and Hatteras
stood at the prow, his fixed, eager gaze bent steadily on that
mysterious point towards which he felt drawn with irresistible
power, like the magnetic needle to the Pole. He wished to be the
first to descry any shore that might come in sight, and he had every
right to the honour.
The water of this Polar Sea presented some peculiar features worth
mentioning. In colour it was a faint ultramarine blue, and possessed
such wonderful transparency that one seemed to gaze down into
fathomless depths. These depths were lighted up, no doubt, by some
electrical phenomenon, and so many varieties of living creatures
were visible that the vessel seemed to be sailing over a vast
aquarium.
Innumerable flocks of birds were flying over the surface of this
marvellous ocean, darkening the sky like thick heavy storm-clouds.
Water-fowl of every description were among them, from the albatross
to the penguin, and all of gigantic proportions. Their cries
were absolutely deafening, and some of them had such immense,
wide-spreading wings, that they covered the sloop completely as
they flew over. The Doctor thought himself a good naturalist, but
he found his science greatly at fault, for many a species here was
wholly unknown to any ornithological society.
[Illustration]
[Illustration: And the Doctor leaning over the side of the vessel,
could see the whales and the dolphins, and all the rest of the
monsters of the deep.—P.214]
The good little man was equally nonplussed when he looked at the
water, for he saw the most wonderful medusæ, some so large that
they looked like little islands floating about among Brobdignagian
sea-weeds. And below the surface, what a spectacle met the eye!
Myriads of fish of every species; young manati at play with each
other; narwhals with their one strong weapon of defence, like the
horn of a unicorn, chasing the timid seals; whales of every tribe,
spouting out columns of water and mucilage, and filling the air with
a peculiar whizzing noise; dolphins, seals, and walruses; sea-dogs
and sea-horses, sea-bears and sea-elephants, quietly browsing on
submarine pastures; and the Doctor could gaze at them all as easily
and clearly as if they were in glass tanks in the Zoological Gardens.
There was a strange supernatural purity about the atmosphere. It
seemed charged to overflowing with oxygen, and had a marvellous
power of exhilaration, producing an almost intoxicating effect on
the brain.
Towards evening, Hatteras and his companions lost sight of the
coast. Night came on, though the sun remained just above the
horizon; but it had the same influence on animated nature as in
temperate zones. Birds, fish, and all the cetacea disappeared and
perfect silence prevailed.
Since the departure from Altamont Harbour, the sloop had made one
degree further north. The next day brought no signs of land; there
was not even a speck on the horizon. The wind was still favourable,
and the sea pretty calm. The birds and fishes returned as numerously
as on the preceding day, and the Doctor leaning over the side of the
vessel, could see the whales and the dolphins, and all the rest of
the monsters of the deep, gradually coming up from the clear depths
below. On the surface, far as the eye could reach, nothing was
visible except a solitary iceberg here and there, and a few
scattered floes.
Indeed, but little ice was met with anywhere. The sloop was ten
degrees above the point of greatest cold, and consequently in the
same temperature as Baffin's Bay and Disko. It was therefore not
astonishing that the sea should be open in these summer months.
This is a fact of great practical value, for if ever the whalers can
penetrate north as far as the Polar basin, they may be sure of an
immediate cargo, as this part of the ocean seems the general
reservoir of whales and seals, and every marine species.
The day wore on, but still nothing appeared on the horizon. Hatteras
never left the prow of the ship, but stood, glass in hand, eagerly
gazing into the distance with anxious, questioning eyes, and seeking
to discover, in the colour of the water, the shape of the waves, and
the breath of the wind, indications of approaching land.