FIRST GLEAM OF LIGHT--TRIP TO WELCOME THE SUN--BEARS AND STRANGE
DISCOVERIES--O'RILEY IS RECKLESS--FIRST VIEW OF THE SUN.
The wisest of men has told us that, "it is a pleasant thing for the eyes
to behold the sun," but only those who spend a winter in the Arctic
regions can fully appreciate the import of that inspired saying.
It is absolutely essential to existence that the bright beams of the
great luminary should fall on animal as well as plant. Most of the poor
dogs died for want of this blessed light, and had it been much longer
withheld, doubtless our navigators would have sunk also.
About the 20th of January a faint gleam of light on the horizon told of
the coming day. It was hailed with rapture, and, long before the bright
sun himself appeared on the southern horizon, the most of the men made
daily excursions to the neighbouring hill-tops to catch sight of as much
as possible of his faint rays. Day by day those rays expanded, and at
last a sort of _dawn_ enlightened a distant portion of their earth,
which, faint though it was at first, had much the appearance in their
eyes of a bright day. But time wore on, and _real_ day appeared! The
red sun rose in all its glory, showed a rim of its glowing disc above
the frozen sea, and then sank, leaving a long gladsome smile of twilight
behind. This great event happened on the 19th of February, and would
have occurred sooner but for the high cliffs to the southward, which
intervened between the ship and the horizon.
On the day referred to a large party was formed to go to the top of the
cliffs at Red Snow Valley to welcome back the sun.
"There's scarce a man left behind," remarked Captain Guy, as they
started on this truly joyous expedition.
"Only Mizzle, sir," said Buzzby, slapping his hands together, for the
cold was intense; "he said as how he'd stop and have dinner ready agin
our return."
There was a general laugh from the men, who knew that the worthy cook
had other reasons for not going--namely, his shortness of wind and his
inveterate dislike to ascend hills.
"Come, Fred," cried Captain Ellice, who had completely recovered from
his accident, "I shall be quite jealous of your friend Singleton if you
bestow so much of your company on him. Walk with me, sirrah, I command
you, as I wish to have a chat."
"You are unjust to me," replied Fred, taking his father's arm, and
falling with him a little to the rear of the party; "Tom complains that
I have quite given him up of late."
"Och! isn't it a purty sight," remarked O'Riley to Mivins, "to see us
all goin' out like good little childers to see the sun rise of a
beautiful mornin' like this?"
"So it _h_is," answered Mivins, "but I wish it wasn't quite so cold."
It was indeed cold--so cold that the men had to beat their hands
together, and stamp their feet, and rush about like real children, in
order to keep their bodies warm. This month of February was the coldest
they had yet experienced. Several times the thermometer fell to the
unexampled temperature of 75 degrees below zero, or 107 degrees below
the freezing-point of water. When we remind our young readers that the
thermometer in England seldom falls so low as zero, except in what we
term weather of the utmost severity, they may imagine--or, rather, they
may try to imagine--what 75 degrees _below_ zero must have been.
It was not quite so cold as that upon this occasion, otherwise the men
could not have shown face to it.
"Let's have leap-frog," shouted Davie; "we can jump along as well as
walk along. Hooray! _hup_!"
The "hup" was rather an exclamation of necessity than of delight
inasmuch as that it was caused by Davie coming suddenly down flat on the
ice in the act of vainly attempting to go leap-frog over Mivins's head.
"That's your sort," cried Amos Parr; "down with you, Buzzby."
Buzzby obeyed, and Amos, being heavy and past the agile time of life,
leaped upon, instead of over, his back, and there stuck.
"Not so high, lads," cried Captain Guy. "Come, Mr Saunders, give us a
back."
"Faix, he'd better go on his hands an' knees."
"That's it! over you go; hurrah, lads!"
In five minutes nearly the whole crew were panting from their violent
exertions, and those who did not, or could not, join, panted as much
from laughter. The desired result, however, was speedily gained. They
were all soon in a glow of heat, and bade defiance to the frost.
An hour's sharp climb brought the party almost to the brow of the hill,
from which they hoped to see the sun rise for the first time for nearly
five months. Just as they were about to pass over a ridge in the
cliffs, Captain Guy, who had pushed on in advance with Tom Singleton,
was observed to pause abruptly and make signals for the men to advance
with caution. He evidently saw something unusual, for he crouched
behind a rock and peeped over it. Hastening up as silently as possible,
they discovered that a group of Polar bears were amusing themselves on
the other side of the cliffs, within long gunshot. Unfortunately not
one of the party had brought firearms. Intent only on catching a sight
of the sun, they had hurried off, unmindful of the possibility of their
catching sight of anything else. They had not even a spear, and the few
oak cudgels that some carried, however effectual they might have proved
at Donnybrook, were utterly worthless there.
There were four large bears and a young one, and the gambols they
performed were of the most startling as well as amusing kind. But that
which interested and surprised the crew most was the fact that these
bears were playing with barrels, and casks, and tent-poles, and sails!
They were engaged in a regular frolic with these articles, tossing them
up in the air, pawing them about, and leaping over them like kittens.
In these movements they displayed their enormous strength several times.
Their leaps, although performed with the utmost ease, were so great as
to prove the iron nature of their muscles. They tossed the heavy casks,
too, high in the air like tennis-balls; and in two instances, while the
crew were watching them, dashed a cask in pieces with a slight blow of
their paws. The tough canvas yielded before them like sheets of paper,
and the havoc they committed was wonderful to behold.
"Most extraordinary!" exclaimed Captain Guy, after watching them for
some time in silence. "I cannot imagine where these creatures can have
got hold of such things. Were not the goods at Store Island all right
this morning, Mr Bolton?"
"Yes, sir, they were."
"Nothing missing from the ship!"
"No, sir, nothing."
"It's most unaccountable."
"Captain Guy," said O'Riley, addressing his commander with a solemn
face, "haven't ye more nor wance towld me the queer thing in the deserts
they calls the _mirage_?"
"I have," answered the captain with a puzzled look.
"An' didn't ye say there was something like it in the Polar seas, that
made ye see flags, an' ships, an' things o' that sort when there was no
sich things there at all?"
"True, O'Riley, I did."
"Faix, then, it's my opinion that yon bears is a mirage, an' the sooner
we git out o' their way the better."
A smothered laugh greeted this solution of the difficulty.
"I think I can give a better explanation--begging your pardon, O'Riley,"
said Captain Ellice, who had hitherto looked on with a sly smile. "More
than a year ago, when I was driven past this place to the northward, I
took advantage of a calm to land a supply of food, and a few stores and
medicines, to be a stand-by in case my ship should be wrecked to the
northward. Ever since the wreck actually took place I have looked
forward to this _cache_ of provisions as a point of refuge on my way
south. As I have already told you, I have never been able to commence
the southward journey, and now I don't require these things, which is
lucky, for the bears seem to have appropriated them entirely."
"Had I known of them sooner, Captain," said Captain Guy, "the bears
should not have had a chance."
"That accounts for the supply of tobacco and sticking-plaster we found
in the bear's stomach," remarked Fred, laughing.
"True, boy, yet it surprises me that they succeeded in breaking into my
_cache_, for it was made of heavy masses of stone, many of which
required two and three men to lift them, even with the aid of
handspikes."
"What's wrong with O'Riley?" said Fred, pointing to that eccentric
individual, who was gazing intently at the bears, muttering between his
teeth, and clenching his cudgel nervously.
"Shure, it's a cryin' shame," he soliloquised in an undertone, quite
unconscious that he was observed, "that ye should escape, ye villains;
av' I only had a musket now--but I han't. Arrah, av' it was only a
spear! Be the mortial! I think I could crack the skull o' the small
wan! Faix, then; I'll try!"
At the last word, before anyone was aware of his intentions, this son of
Erin, whose blood was now up, sprang down the cliffs towards the bears,
flourishing his stick, and shouting wildly as he went. The bears
instantly paused in their game, but showed no disposition to retreat.
"Come back, you madman!" shouted the captain; but the captain shouted in
vain.
"Stop! halt! come back!" chorused the crew.
But O'Riley was deaf; he had advanced to within a few yards of the
bears, and was rushing forward to make a vigorous attack on the little
one.
"He'll be killed!" exclaimed Fred in dismay.
"Follow me, men," shouted the captain, as he leaped the ridge; "make all
the noise you can."
In a moment the surrounding cliffs were reverberating with the loud
halloos and frantic yells of the men, as they burst suddenly over the
ridge, and poured down upon the bears like a torrent of maniacs!
Bold though they were they couldn't stand this. They turned tail and
fled, followed by the disappointed howls of O'Riley, and also by his
cudgel, which he hurled violently after them as he pulled up.
Having thus triumphantly put the enemy to flight the party continued
their ascent of the hill and soon gained the summit.
"There it is!" shouted Fred, who, in company with Mivins, first crossed
the ridge and tossed his arms in the air.
The men cheered loudly as they hurried up, and one by one emerged into a
red glow of sunshine. It could not be termed _warm_, for it had no
power in that frosty atmosphere, and only a small portion of the sun's
disc was visible. But his _light_ was on every crag and peak around;
and as the men sat down in groups, and, as it were, bathed in the
sunshine, winking at the bright gleam of light with half-closed eyes,
they declared that it _felt_ warm, and wouldn't hear anything to the
contrary, although Saunders, true to his nature, endeavoured to prove to
them that the infinitely small degree of heat imparted by such feeble
rays could not by any possibility be _felt_ except in imagination. But
Saunders was outvoted. Indeed, under the circumstances, he had not a
chance of proving his point; for the more warm the dispute became the
greater was the amount of animal heat that was created, to be placed,
falsely, to the credit of the sun.
Patience, however, is a virtue which is sure to meet with a reward. The
point which Saunders failed to prove by argument was pretty well proved
to everyone (though not admitted) by the agency of John Frost. That
remarkably bitter individual nestled round the men as they sat sunning
themselves, and soon compelled them to leap up and apply to other
sources for heat. They danced about vigorously, and again took to
leap-frog. Then they tried their powers at the old familiar games of
home. Hop-step-and-jump raised the animal thermometer considerably; and
the standing leap, running leap, and high leap sent it up many degrees.
But a general race brought them almost to a summer temperature, and at
the same time, most unexpectedly, secured to them a hare. This little
creature, of which very few had yet been procured, darted in an evil
hour out from behind a rock right in front of the men, who having begun
the race for sport now continued it energetically for profit. A dozen
sticks were hurled at the luckless hare, and one of these felled it to
the ground.
After this they returned home in triumph, keeping up all the way an
animated dispute as to the amount of heat shed upon them by the sun, and
upon that knotty question:
"Who killed the hare?"
Neither point was settled when they reached the _Dolphin_, and, we may
add, for the sake of the curious reader, neither point is settled yet.