All hands worked steadily, willingly, and well. There was not a sound
to be heard, except the roar of the flames, the tramping of feet, an
occasional word of command, and the steady clank, clank of the little
pumping engine. No noise, no bustle, no confusion on board the burning
ship.
The flames had soon gained mastery over the captain's cabin, and over
the wardroom as well, for the fire seemed to spread on both sides.
Claude was walking slowly up and down the deck, 'twixt main and
foremast, quietly superintending everything. That he was here, and here
only, showed the perfect confidence he had in his men and officers to
carry out the terrible duties now imposed upon them.
Smoke and flames were pouring up through the companions aft, and it was
evident that that portion of the ship was doomed.
Claude was hoping against hope. Were the cabin and wardroom only
destroyed and the fire here checked, the hull and the fore-part of the
ship would be but little injured, and the voyage home be, after all,
made in safety.
The greatest danger of all rested in the fact that the magazine,
containing a very considerable quantity of gunpowder and gun-cotton, lay
close to--almost _in_--the seat of fire, and so quickly had the flames
spread that it had been found impossible to remove the stores without
the almost certainty of exploding the whole.
So among the first orders given was for a volunteer to carry the end of
the hose along the lower deck and flood the magazine.
Boy Bounce was the first to spring forward.
"Can we trust him, Mr Lloyd?"
"Certainly, sir."
"And I'm so small, you know; I can walk where a big 'un would 'ave to
creep, sir."
The boy seemed a long time gone, but he crawled back at last, and fell
senseless at Lloyd's feet. He was badly burned about the hands and even
face, but as soon as he came to himself he went on working with the
rest.
Hours flew by, one, two, three; still the fire raged; still the men
worked steadily on.
All seemed going well, when suddenly the wind shifted, and almost at the
same time the smoke and flames came roaring forward, and one mast caught
fire. The crew were driven from the pumps, and for the first time
something like a panic spread fore and aft.
It was evident now that the ship could not be saved. All further
attempts at pumping were abandoned, and all hands set to work to remove
stores.
Unfortunately, two of the boats that hung on davits aft were lost, so
that only two remained.
One of these boats was commanded by McDonald, the other by Dr Barrett,
Claude and Lloyd determining to remain on board till the bitter end.
How bitter that end was to be no one could have guessed.
All the stores that could, with apparent safety, be got out were landed;
the boats were returning to the ship. Claude had calculated that hours
must elapse before the vessel blew up, or that she might sink without an
explosion.
Orders had just been issued for the men to stand by to embark in the
boats with regularity and quietness, when suddenly the after-part of the
ship was blown up with fearful violence; masts, spars, deck, rigging,
and bulwarks flew skywards, in a fountain of crimson flame.
The sea was covered with the wreckage, and the _Icebear_ began rapidly
to sink stern foremost.
"Give way, men," shouted Dr Barrett. "Give way with a will to the
rescue."
Let the curtain drop over the terrible scene. Suffice it to say that
everything that man can do, or heroes accomplish, was done and dared by
those in the boats to save their friends and messmates from drowning,
and from worse--from being devoured by sharks; but out of all that crew
of men, who, only a few short hours before, had been peacefully
slumbering, and dreaming, perchance, of home and happiness, only thirty
answered to their names that morning in the shore-house.
Some of these, too, were badly wounded, and nearly all exhausted.
Poor Lloyd was among the drowned, so was Warren, the second mate, and
both Pipes and Chips had gone to their account.
Big Byarnie had been sent ashore with one of the first boats. He was a
giant to work, and did about three men's duty in unloading. He had
taken the sea-birds with him.
Fingal had, dog-like, stayed with his master, and swam all the way to
the shore with him after the explosion. Boy Bounce came floating on
shore stride-legs on a spar, propelling himself with half an oar, which
he had managed to pick up somehow or other.
There was so much life and enthusiasm about Paddy O'Connell, that it is
almost needless to say he got ashore.
"Somehow," said Paddy; but how, he couldn't remember at all.
A great fire was made in the shore-house, and the men who had been taken
out of the water rendered as comfortable as circumstances would permit.
When breakfast had been served and discussed--there was no ceremony now,
no distinction between officers and men, those poor mariners in their
terrible plight having formed themselves into a little republic--Claude
and Dr Barrett went out together.
They walked for a time in silence up and down the beach, Claude hardly
daring to cast a glance seawards where the wreckage still was floating.
The doctor was the first to speak.
"This is a sad ending to all our hopes," he said slowly.
"I cannot as yet realise it," replied Claude. "My poor men! my poor
men!"
There were tears in his eyes as he spoke, tears of which he had no
reason to be ashamed.
Dr Barrett pressed his hand.
"I am older than you," he said; "let me beseech you not to repine. It
is almost cheering for me to think that the bitterness of death is past
for those dear brave hearts who, remember, Captain Alwyn, died doing
their duty nobly and manfully."
"True, true, Dr Barrett; theirs must be a merciful judgment: but the
drunken brute who caused this terrible accident!"
"Stay, sir, stay; he too is in God's hand. We cannot, dare not, set
bounds or limits to His mercy. Let us turn our thoughts to Him, then,"
continued the doctor. "We have to submit to whatever is before us. We
_must_ pray, `Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven.'"
"Yes," replied Claude, "but that portion of the beautiful prayer our
Saviour taught has always seemed to me more difficult than any other to
utter from the heart while in grief or expecting grief."
"I know it, Captain Claude Alwyn, I know it. There are few kinds of
grief in this world I have not tasted the bitterness of. But come," he
went on, "you and I are still the chiefs of this expedition. Let us,
even now, bravely face the situation. Let us see how we stand."
"We are imprisoned in a living grave."
"Not quite so bad as that, my friend."
"Well, Dr Barrett, what do you propose?"
"Shortly this. We have still stores on shore here, but we must
supplement them Despatch one boat at once; if she returns before the
snow falls, well and good. Send her back for a further supply; if the
snow falls ere she returns, do not wait, but despatch the sledges across
country. As we are about one hundred miles south of the inlet, the
sledges will take the short cut, and reach the cave stores in shorter
time than the boat can."
"Good. I will lose no time, and as soon as our poor fellows are
buried--"
He paused and glanced seawards. "My dear Captain Alwyn," said the
doctor, "our poor fellows are already buried; that water swarms with
sharks." [Note 1.]
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Claude himself went in charge of the boat to visit the _Kittywake_
stores. There would be, he reasoned with himself, about three hundred
miles of water to row or sail over. The tide, however, that swept up
and down the long creek which joined the ocean to the inland sea, had
all the force of a mill-stream. He determined, therefore, to take
advantage of that, and on his voyage out to anchor alongside the banks
during the flow, and rush onward when the tide was ebbing.
He returned to the camp far sooner than he had expected.
He returned empty.
A bridge of ice and snow had been encountered which, no doubt, extended
all the way to the sea.
"And so, even if my poor vessel had not been doomed to destruction, it
would have been impossible to get clear this year." So spoke Claude.
"True, true," said Dr Barrett, "and now we must depend upon the sledges
to bring us supplies from the stores. But," he added, "it is only right
I should tell you what I think, Captain Alwyn--"
"And that is?"
"That they, too, will return empty."
This melancholy surmise of Dr Barrett turned out far too true.
They waited till the snow fell. Then, in charge of the spectioneer, who
had been among the saved, and Mr McDonald, third mate, the sledges set
out. As usual, Fingal trotted off with the rest.
Even to those in the sledges, the time seemed long. Their adventures
were many, the whole journey a toilsome and perilous one. But the goal
was gained at last. There was the signal pole on the cliff top that had
been raised to guide the _Kittywake_ towards the creek, but where was
the creek itself?
_Nowhere to be seen_.
It had been frozen over in the winter, and the ravine, at the bottom of
which it lay, filled entirely and completely level with snow.
To find or even to guess at the whereabouts of the cave where the stores
were buried under such circumstances was quite out of the question. A
thousand men could hardly have found and rescued them.
If the time seemed long for those who went on this expedition, it was
doubly tedious for those who waited their return.
At last, one evening, about sunset, amid thickly falling snow, Fingal
came bounding into camp. Claude knew the sledges could not be far away.
All rushed out to meet them. Alas! and alas! for hope seemed to die
even in Dr Barrett's heart at the dire news.
They brought two bears, and these were cut in pieces and stored.
"What is to be done now?" said Claude. "Are we to die like rats in a
hole?"
"Not, I think," was the reply, "without making one last effort to save
ourselves. Were it the summer, we could live at all events as long as
ammunition lasted, but we have hardly food enough to serve us to
spring-time. So I propose that we get ready at once, that we provision
the sledges, and make an attempt to reach the semi-Eskimo, semi-Danish
settlement of Sturmstadt."
"It will be a terrible journey."
"It will, indeed, but both Jack and Joe know the way. I have talked to
them. Their people have come on the hunting-path within a hundred miles
of this place."
"_For_ myself, I care not," said Claude; "but I grieve to think of my
poor fellows, perhaps sinking and dying by the way. Would it not be
almost better to rough it here through another winter, then, when the
snow is gone, to walk the journey? Every day would then be bringing us
into a warmer and better climate."
"No, captain, it would not, and for this one of many reasons. If we
take the journey now we can go in almost a straight line, for the creeks
and streams will be frozen over in a few days. In summer we know not
what _detours_ we might not have to make, what streams or rivers to ford
or even swim."
"I will be guided by your experience," said Claude.
Early next morning, outside the wooden tent, Paddy O'Connell and boy
Bounce were heard talking together loudly and excitedly.
"Is it true what you're telling me, and sorra a word av a lie in it?"
"Which I walked all the way over, and ran all the way back to see," was
the boy's reply.
"Och! bladderips!" roared Paddy; "och! the thieving spalpeens! Bad cess
to them evermore. Sure if I had them I'd break every bone in their
durty bodies. I'd murder every mother's son or the two o' them."
He entered the tent as he spoke.
"I know what you've come to say, Paddy," said Claude: "the Eskimos have
taken the sledges and deserted us."
"True for you, sorr," said Paddy. "It's all up wid us now, sorr. Sure
I could tear me hair and cry; and it isn't for meself either, sorr, I'd
be after crying, but for me poor mother and Biddy."
"This is, indeed, terrible news, doctor," said Claude.
The doctor whistled a few bars of an operatic air thoughtfully before he
made reply.
"It may be all for the best, you know. Hope, sir, hope, _hope_, _hope_.
"`Hope is a better companion than fear;
Providence, ever benignant and kind,
Gives with a smile what you take with a tear.
All will be right; Let us look to the light.
Morning is ever the daughter of night.
Cheerily, cheerily, then, cheer up!'"
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Note 1. The _Scymnus Borealis_. Some of these monsters obtain a length
of nearly twenty feet, and at certain seasons of the year the sea in
some places swarms with them. They are gregarious, and never fail to
appear when men are drowning or seals being killed. They are terribly
fierce and voracious.