_Departure of the sun--Effects of darkness on dogs--Winter arrangements
in the interior of the "Dolphin."_
It is sad to part with an old friend, especially if he be one of the
oldest and best friends we ever had. When the day of departure arrives,
it is of no avail that he tells us kindly he will come back again. That
assurance is indeed a comfort after he is gone, and a sweet star of hope
that shines brighter and brighter each day until he comes back; but it
is poor consolation to us at the time of parting, when we are squeezing
his hand for the last time, and trying to crush back the drops that
_will_ overflow.
The crew of the _Dolphin_ had, in the course of that winter, to part
with one of their best friends; one whom they regarded with the most
devoted attachment; one who was not expected to return again till the
following spring, and one, therefore, whom some of them might, perhaps,
never see again.
Mivins became quite low-spirited about it, and said "as 'ow 'e'd 'ave a
'eavy 'eart for _h_ever and _h_ever, _h_amen," after he was gone.
O'Riley remarked, in reference to his departure, that every man in the
ship was about to lose a _son_! Yes, indeed he did; he perpetrated that
atrocious pun, and wasn't a bit ashamed of it. O'Riley had perpetrated
many a worse pun than that before; it's to be hoped for the credit of
his country he has perpetrated a few better ones since!
Yes, the period at length arrived when the great source of light and
heat was about to withdraw his face from these Arctic navigators for a
long, long time, and leave them in unvarying night. It was a good while,
however, before he went away altogether, and for many weeks after winter
set in in all its intensity, he paid them a daily visit which grew
gradually shorter and shorter, until that sad evening in which he
finally bade them farewell.
About the middle of October the dark months overspread the Bay of Mercy,
and the reign of perpetual night began. There was something terribly
depressing at first in this uninterrupted gloom, and for some time after
the sun ceased to show his disk above the horizon the men of the
_Dolphin_ used to come on deck at noon, and look out for the faint
streak of light that indicated the presence of the life-giving luminary
with all the earnestness and longing of Eastern fire-worshippers.
The dogs, too, became sensibly affected by the continued absence of
light, and seemed to draw more sympathetically than ever to their human
companions in banishment. A curious and touching instance of this
feeling was exhibited when the pack were sent to sleep on Store Island.
A warm kennel had been erected for them there, partly in order that the
ship might be kept more thoroughly clean, and partly that the dogs might
act as a guard over the stores, in case bears or wolves should take a
fancy to examine them. But nothing would induce the poor animals to keep
away from the ship and remain beyond the sound of human voices. They
deserted their comfortable abode with one consent the first time they
were sent to it, preferring to spend the night by the side of the ship
upon the bare snow. Coaxing them was of no use. O'Riley tried it in
vain.
"Ah! then," said he to Dumps with a wheedling air and expression of
intense affection that would have taken by storm the heart of any
civilized dog, "_won't_ ye come now an' lay in yer own kennel? Sure it's
a beautiful wan, an' as warm as the heart of an iceberg. Doo come now,
avic, an' I'll show ye the way."
But Dumps's heart was marble; he wouldn't budge. By means of a piece of
walrus, however, he was at length induced to go with the Irishman to the
kennel, and was followed by the entire pack. Here O'Riley endeavoured to
make them comfortable, and prevailed on them to lie down and go to
sleep; but whenever he attempted to leave them, they were up and at his
heels in a moment.
"Och! but ye're too fond o' me intirely, Doo lie down agin, and I'll
sing ye a ditty?"
True to his word, O'Riley sat down by the dog-kennel, and gave vent to a
howl which his "owld grandmother," he said, "used to sing to the pig;"
and whether it was the effects of this lullaby, or of the cold, it is
impossible to say, but O'Riley at length succeeded in slipping away and
regaining the ship, unobserved by his canine friends. Half-an-hour later
he went on deck to take a mouthful of fresh air before supper, and on
looking over the side he saw the whole pack of dogs lying in a circle
close to the ship, with Dumps comfortably asleep in the middle, and
using Poker's back for a pillow.
"Faix, but ye must be fond of the cowld to lie there all night when
ye've got a palace on Store Island."
"Fond of society, rather," observed Captain Guy, who came on deck at the
moment; "the poor creatures cannot bear to be left alone. It is a
strange quality in dogs which I have often observed before."
"Have ye, capting? Sure I thought it was all owin' to the bad manners o'
that baste Dumps, which is for iver leadin' the other dogs into
mischief."
"Supper's ready, sir," said Mivins, coming up the hatchway, and touching
his cap.
"Look here, Mivins," said O'Riley, as the captain went below, "can you
point out the mornin' star to me, lad?"
"The morning star?" said Mivins slowly, as he thrust his hands into the
breast of his jumper, and gazed upwards into the dark sky, where the
starry host blazed in Arctic majesty. "No, _h_of course, I can't. Why,
don't you know that there _h_ain't no _morning_ star when it's _night_
all round?"
"Faix ye're right. I niver thought o' that."
Mivins was evidently a little puffed up with a feeling of satisfaction
at the clever way in which he had got out of the difficulty, without
displaying his ignorance of astronomy, and was even venturing, in the
pride of his heart, to make some speculative and startling assertions in
regard to the "'eavenly bodies" generally, when Buzzby put his head up
the hatchway.
"Hallo! messmates, wot's ado now? Here's the supper awaitin', and the
tea bilin' like blazes!"
Mivins instantly dived down below, as the sailors express it; and we may
remark, in passing, that the expression, in this particular case, was
not inappropriate, for Mivins, as we have elsewhere said, was remarkably
agile and supple, and gave beholders a sort of impression that he went
head-foremost at everything. O'Riley followed at a more reasonable rate,
and in a few minutes the crew of the _Dolphin_ were seated at supper in
the cabin, eating with as much zest, and laughing and chatting as
blithely, as if they were floating calmly on their ocean home in
temperate climes. Sailors are proverbially light-hearted, and in their
moments of comfort and social enjoyment they easily forget their
troubles. The depression of spirits that followed the first
disappearance of the sun soon wore off, and they went about their
various avocations cheerfully by the light of the aurora borealis and
the stars.
The cabin, in which they now all lived together, had undergone
considerable alterations. After the return of Fred Ellice and the
hunting-party, whom we left on the ice-belt in the last chapter, the
bulk-head, or partition, which separated the cabin from the hold had
been taken down, and the whole was thrown into one large apartment, in
order to secure a freer circulation of air and warmth. All round the
walls inside of this apartment moss was piled to the depth of twelve
inches to exclude the cold, and this object was further gained by the
spreading of a layer of moss on the deck above. The cabin hatchway was
closed, and the only entrance was at the farther end, through the hold,
by means of a small doorway in the bulk-head, to which was attached a
sort of porch, with a curtain of deer-skins hung in front of it. In the
centre of the floor stood an iron cooking-stove, which served at once
the purpose of preparing food and warming the cabin, which was lighted
by several small oil lamps. These were kept burning perpetually, for
there was no distinction between day and night in mid-winter, either in
the cabin or out of doors.
In this snug-looking place the officers and men of the ship messed, and
dwelt, and slept together; but, notwithstanding the _apparent_ snugness,
it was with the greatest difficulty they could keep themselves in a
sufficient degree of warmth to maintain health and comfort. Whenever the
fire was allowed to get low, the beams overhead became coated with
hoar-frost; and even when the temperature was raised to the utmost
possible pitch, it was cold enough, at the extreme ends of the
apartment, to freeze a jug of water solid.
A large table occupied the upper end of the cabin between the stove and
the stern, and round this the officers and crew were seated when O'Riley
entered and took his place among them. Each individual had his appointed
place at the mess-table, and with unvarying regularity these places were
filled at the appointed hours.
"The dogs seem to be disobedient," remarked Amos Parr, as his comrade
sat down; "they'd be the better of a taste o' Meetuck's cat, I think."
"It's truth ye're sayin'," replied O'Riley, commencing a violent assault
on a walrus-steak; "they don't obey orders at all, at all. An' Dumps,
the blaggard, is as cross-grained as me grandmother's owld pig--"
A general laugh here interrupted the speaker, for O'Riley could seldom
institute a disparaging comparison without making emphatic allusion to
the pig that once shared with him the hospitalities of his grandmother's
cabin.
"Why, everything you speak of seems to be like that wonderful pig,
messmate," said Peter Grim.
"Ye're wrong there intirely," retorted O'Riley. "I niver seed nothing
like it in all me thravels except yerself, and that only in regard to
its muzzle, which was black and all kivered over with bristles, it wos.
I'll throuble you for another steak, messmate; that walrus is great
livin'.--We owe ye thanks for killin' it, Mister Ellice."
"You're fishing for compliments, but I'm afraid I have none to give
you. Your first harpoon, you know, was a little wide of the mark, if I
recollect right, wasn't it?"
"Yis, it wos--about as wide as the first bullet. I mis-remember exactly
who fired it--wos it you, Meetuck?"
Meetuck, being deeply engaged with a junk of fat meat at that moment,
expressed all he had to say in a convulsive gasp without interrupting
his supper.
"Try a bit of the bear," said Fred to Tom Singleton; "it's better than
the walrus to my taste."
"I'd rather not," answered Tom, with a dubious shake of the head.
"It's a most unconscionable thing to eat a beast o' that sort," remarked
Saunders gravely.
"Especially one who has been in the habit of living on raisins and
sticking-plaster," said Bolton with a grin.
"I have been thinking about that," said Captain Guy, who had been for
some time listening in silence to the conversation, "and I cannot help
thinking that Esquimaux must have found a wreck somewhere in this
neighbourhood and carried away her stores, which Bruin had managed to
steal from them."
"May they not have got some of the stores of the brig we saw nipped some
months ago?" suggested Singleton.
"Possibly they may."
"I dinna think that's likely," said Saunders, shaking his head. "Yon
brig had been deserted long ago, and her stores must have been consumed,
if they were taken out of her at all, before we thought o' comin' here."
For some time the party in the cabin ate in silence.
"We must wait patiently," resumed the captain, as if he were tired of
following up a fruitless train of thought. "What of your theatricals,
Fred? we must get them set a-going as soon as possible."
The captain spoke animatedly, for he felt that, with the prospect of a
long dark winter before them, it was of the greatest importance that the
spirits of the men should be kept up.
"I find it difficult to beat up recruits," answered Fred, laughing;
"Peter Grim has flatly refused to act, and O'Riley says he could no more
learn a part off by heart than--"
"His grandmother's pig could," interrupted David Mizzle, who, having
concluded supper, now felt himself free to indulge in conversation.
"Och! ye spalpeen," whispered the Irishman.
"I have written out the half of a play which I hope to produce in a few
days on the boards of our Arctic theatre with a talented company, but I
must have one or two more men--one to act the part of a lady. Will you
take that part, Buzzby?"
"Wot! _me_?" cried the individual referred to with a stare of amazement.
"Oh yes! _do_, Buzzby," cried several of the men with great delight.
"You're just cut out for it."
"Blue eyes," said one.
"Fair hair," cried another.
"And plump," said a third.
"Wid cheeks like the hide of a walrus," cried O'Riley; "but, sure, it
won't show wid a veil on."
"Come, now, you won't refuse."
But Buzzby did refuse; not, however, so determinedly but that he was
induced at last to allow his name to be entered in Fred's note-book as a
supernumerary.
"Hark!" cried the captain; "surely the dogs must have smelt a bear."
There was instantly a dead silence in the cabin, and a long, loud wail
from the dogs was heard outside.
"It's not like their usual cry when game is near," said the second mate.
"Hand me my rifle, Mivins," said the captain, springing up and pulling
forward the hood of his jumper, as he hurried on deck followed by the
crew.
It was a bright, still, frosty night, and the air felt intensely sharp,
as if needles were pricking the skin, while the men's breath issued from
their lips in white clouds and settled in hoar-frost on the edges of
their hoods. The dogs were seen galloping about the ice-hummocks as if
in agitation, darting off to a considerable distance at times, and
returning with low whines to the ship.
"It is very strange," remarked the captain. "Jump down on the ice, boys,
and search for footprints. Extend as far as Store Island, and see that
all is right there."
In a few seconds the men scattered themselves right and left, and were
lost in the gloom, while the vessel was left in charge of Mivins and
four men. A strict search was made in all directions, but no traces of
animals could be found; the stores on the island were found undisturbed;
and gradually the dogs ceased their agitated gyrations, and seemed
inclined to resume their slumbers on the ice.
Seeing this, and supposing that they were merely restless, Captain Guy
recalled his men, and not long after every man in the cabin of the
_Dolphin_ was buried in profound slumber.