"SUMMER COMES WITH ONE GLAD BOUND"--FIRE!
Spring or early summer is to all a season of hope and joy, but no one
who has never lived in the drear cold regions around the Pole in winter
could understand or appreciate the glad feeling that is born in the
heart when the sun once more ascends his throne and rules triumphant in
all the land.
Some reason or other may be ascribed for all religions and forms of
worship, even the most heathenish; and I have never been astonished to
see a pious Eskimo Indian with his family kneel or throw himself on his
face before the god of day, though I have felt sorry for him and for
them.
"But yonder comes the powerful king of day,
Rejoicing in the east. The lessening cloud,
The kindling azure, and the mountains' brow
Illumed with fluid gold, his near approach
Betoken glad.
He looks in boundless majesty abroad
And sheds the shining day, that burnished play,
On rocks, and hills, and towers, and wandering streams
High-gleaming from afar."
Summer seemed to come to the rocks and hills around the sea of Dunallan
with one glad bound. There were some few days of fog or mist, so dense
that it was impossible even to see the point of the jibboom. This fog
was, as it were, the curtain of Nature's great theatre, dropped for a
time while the grand transformation scene was being put on the stage
behind it.
Then it was withdrawn--lifted, and behold summer on the hills, summer in
the glens. Glad streams and cataracts sparkling in the sunshine, the
mountain-tops capped in silvery snow, streaks of silver running down
their brown, white-flecked sides, but the ground all carpeted with
green, which in a few days burst forth into the most charming variety of
colours.
The sea itself was scarcely rippled by the gentle breeze that blew
steadily from the west; the air was so fresh and balmy that it was a
pleasure to breathe it. Everything seemed to feel the touch of the
newly come summer, and to rejoice. Flocks of birds of innumerable
varieties went wheeling and circling round the ship, or floated on the
water; there was music even in their wild glad shrieks.
Many a black head, too, popped up out of the water, some tusked and
bearded, some as awful as a nightmare. And seals basked on the sunny
side of the rocks, or on the sandy beach; while bears by the dozen and
score prowled round, warily watching their chance to spring upon and
make prey of these innocents. The bears seemed now to have no fear of
man. Nor did they appear anxious to attack any one; they were no longer
an-hungered.
The snow awnings were now taken down from the decks, a general spring
cleaning was instituted, and, after this, even winter garments were put
aside, and the men looked gay and felt happy in consequence. But for
all this, the temperature was seldom a degree above 45 degrees; and if
ever it reached 50 degrees, the men thought it uncomfortably hot.
Alba, the snow-bird, had pined a great deal during the long, dark winter
day, and seldom cared to leave the cabin; but now she went screaming and
flying all round the ship as if mad with joy, and hardly could Claude
tell her from the other birds of the same genus, only she usually came
when called.
Fingal, when not on the war-path, used to lie on the snow-white deck and
gasp, with about a quarter of a yard of crimson tongue lolling
indolently out of his mouth.
The doctor continued busy as ever, only the sledges were put away, and
all expeditions had now to be undertaken on foot.
Very much to Claude's surprise, they came one day in their wanderings,
while a very long way from the ship, on a herd of tiny horned bisons
quietly browsing on the sweet mosses in a wild glen.
The strange creatures lifted their heads and sniffed the air as Claude
and Paddy O'Connell approached, but it was surprise, not fear, they
exhibited.
Claude waited till the doctor and his party came up.
"What are they, in the name of mystery?" asked Claude.
"They are musk oxen, without a doubt," was the reply; "but I never saw
such small ones before. They are dwarfs of their species. Truly this
is a land of wonders. There is certainly," he continued, "no geological
reason why these animals should not be here, only--"
"Look here, doctor," cried Claude, "while you are preaching to Paddy
there, I'll have a shot."
"By all means, let us have a specimen."
"And troth," said Paddy, "we'll have a specimen for the cook's coppers,
doctor dear, as well as for the good of science."
At the very first rifle shot, one of their number bit the dust; but,
strange to say, the others fled not. They looked wild and startled, and
in dread terror they sniffed at the blood of their dead companion, but
they stood still.
Another was shot, and another; then at last there was a wild stampede,
not from, but down _towards_ our sportsmen.
Were they charging to take revenge on the murderers of their companions?
Claude thought so. The surgeon knew better.
"Stand aside quickly!" he cried.
Hardly had they rushed a little way up the bank ere the whole herd
rolled past.
Paddy had a parting shot, but missed, and looked very foolish.
Fingal could scarcely be restrained from going in pursuit. He thought
he could easily pull at least one down, seeing they were but little
bigger than Newfoundland dogs.
Deer there were now among the hills in abundance, hares, and a strange
kind of rabbit, that even Dr Barrett had never seen before.
On the great lake itself, sport was to be had in abundance. Jack and
Joe astonished every one by their marvellous dexterity in harpooning the
huge and ferocious bladder-nose seal (_Stemmatopus Crisatus_), the sea
bear (_Ursus Marinus_), the little _Atak_, and the walrus himself.
Not from the boats of the _Icebear_, however, did these wonderful
Indians work. No, for they built themselves kayaks, or light canoes,
made principally of hide, and so light you could lift one with a single
hand or wear it as a hat. In these frail skiffs they would venture for
miles out to sea, and they seldom came back without an animal of some
kind.
But once Jack came home without Joe.
"Where is Joe?" asked Claude.
"Joe? You asked for my brooder?"
"Yes, your brother," replied Claude.
"Oh!" said Jack, indifferently, "he toomble up plenty quick. No can
turn hims kayak again. P'r'aps he go drown, ha! ha?"
It had never occurred to Jack to go to his brother's assistance. When
taxed with his callousness--
"What for I go?" he replied. "No plenty good. P'r'aps Jack he catchee
my kayak, and den we bof on us toomble. No, no, not plenty good
enough."
"Call away the whalers," bawled Claude.
"Call both away, Mr Lloyd."
There was a trampling of feet, and a rattling of blocks and tackle, and
in two minutes both took the water with a plash.
"A guinea to the first boat that reaches the kayak," cried Claude.
There was a race on then--a very exciting one, though only to save the
life of a poor Eskimo Indian.
The kayak could be distinctly seen from the masthead, with poor deserted
Joe clinging to it.
Claude went himself to the crow's-nest, to guide the boats by means of
the long fan used for such purpose by Greenland-going ships.
The poor fellow was at length rescued, very much exhausted.
By the time he had reached the ship, however, what with the warm
sunshine and a stimulant the Spectioneer had administered to him, Joe
was all right and smiling.
But his brother Jack, as soon as Joe came on board, pointed at him a
stern finger of reproof.
"I 'shamed o' you," he said. "I 'shamed o' you proper. You not can
turn your kayak, ha! ha! You no true Indian. Suppose one shark snap
your two legs off, dat do you plenty mooch good. Bah!"
The summer passed away only too quickly; it passed, but not in vain, for
Dr Barrett had done much good for the cause of science; and, reader,
science always does or always should bring us nearer to Him who made all
things and rules over them by unchangeable laws that He knows are good,
whatever we finite beings may dare to imagine.
The summer passed; Claude and all his crew had enjoyed splendid sport.
I wish I had space to tell of the adventures they had, some of them wild
enough in all conscience. But while enjoying themselves there had been
no neglect of duty, with one sad, solitary exception presently to be
mentioned.
"I am very glad to say," remarked Dr Barrett, one evening at dinner,
"that I have succeeded in doing about all I believe that our learned
friends in England wanted me to do, thanks to your good judgment,
Captain Alwyn, in steering us to this wondrous country."
"And so am I glad also," replied Claude. He was thinking of home just
then. "Let me see," continued the doctor, musingly, "I have collected
quite a museum of specimens of Arctic flora and even fauna. To the
lichen world I have, I think, added not a few species hitherto unknown.
I have taken observations of every conceivable kind; there is a record
of them in my notes. I have, or, pardon me for my egotism, we have
discovered coal--that is of little use, perhaps; iron--that exists
everywhere; tin--that is more to the purpose; silver and gold, and these
are better still. We have also," he went on, "found the bones of
extinct mammals, and the evidences on all sides that at one time the
hills around us, or hills like them, were covered with forest and fern,
and inhabited by a race of animals that we human beings too often, I
think, call inferior. We have, moreover--"
"I beg your pardon, sir," said the steward. "May I speak to you half a
minute?"
The doctor followed him into the steerage.
He soon returned, looking serious and vexed.
"Beast!" he muttered.
"I hope," said Claude, "there is no one in this ship deserves that
title, doctor."
"Will you come and see for yourself, sir?"
"I will."
Claude followed the doctor out to the steerage and into the dispensary.
There he pointed to an almost empty bottle of brandy.
He said nothing.
"Do you mean me to infer," said Claude, "that one of my crew has been
guilty of a theft so vile?"
The doctor nodded.
"And who?"
"Who but Datchet?"
"Mr Lloyd," shouted Alwyn, "bring Datchet before me to-morrow morning."
Datchet was duly punished, Dr Barrett, however, begging mitigation of
sentence on the plea that he had left temptation in the man's way.
Time went on, and everything was got ready for a start. In a few more
days the order would be, "Up anchor, and hey for Merrie England!"
All hands were happy. Small wonder at that. It was Friday night. The
_Icebear_ would sail on the Monday, the stores having still to be got on
board from the house on shore.
Friday night is, in many northern ships, held somewhat _en gala_, as the
day is a salt-fish day, so to-night there was a huge sea-pie cooked for
the half-deck officers, and several such for the men forward.
Everything seemed propitious as regards the weather, for though dense
fogs had prevailed for a week or two--it was early in August--the sky
was now clear and the glass slowly but steadily rising. So the men were
right merry. Paddy O'Connell had never appeared to such advantage. The
boy Bounce was even allowed to tell a story and sing a London street
ballad; while big Byarnie sat in a corner, beaming over with gigantic
smiles.
But by ten o'clock sounds were hushed, and all hands in bed fore and
aft. There was not now a sound to break the stillness, for the solitary
sentry had gone below to smoke by the galley fire.
An hour passed away; then a solitary figure might have been seen
creeping aft on hands and knees.
Two hours. The captain is sleeping sound; his hand is over the
coverlet. Into this hand a cold wet nose is thrust.
"Go away and sleep, Fingal," he mutters.
But the dog whines, and finally barks, and then Claude starts up, fully
awake now.
See, across the cabin yonder is the reflection of a strange light in the
glass!
He springs to the deck and rushes to the door, which is open.
There is fire in the store-closet between his cabin and the wardroom.
Fire in the spirit-store!
Ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, ding, went the bell two strokes to the
second.
Ding, ding, ding, ding, and in a minute the whole ship is alive.