That night, overcome by fatigue, strange as it may seem, we all slept
soundly. The sun again rose, and discovered us still floating in safety
on our unstable resting-place. The day passed much as the former one
had done.
We had been actively employed during the greater part of it, and
therefore, in spite of our extraordinary position and the deep anxiety
we felt for our future fate, we were all able to sleep, if not very
soundly, at least for some hours, when the third night closed in upon
us. I need not say that Andrew offered up our prayers aloud for
deliverance to the Great Being who had hitherto so mercifully preserved
us.
I dreamed, it seemed to me, all night long. Sometimes I was at home
with my father and mother and sweet sisters, and they were all laughing
and talking, while we stood at the window of the dining-hall and looked
out at the beautiful and familiar prospect before it. Someone was
describing to them some adventures very similar to mine; but I felt that
I could have nothing to do with them, for I was still, I knew, on an
iceberg in the Northern Ocean, likely any moment to be overwhelmed
beneath it. Then I thought a ship appeared, and Captain Dean was at the
helm, and that sweet Mary, dressed in white, and looking like a seraph,
stood on the forecastle waving to me to come off to them. I, of course,
could not move, for my feet were jammed into a hole in the ice, and I
struggled in vain to drag them out. On a sudden a storm arose, and Mary
shrieked; and even her father turned pale, as the ship rose on the tops
of the angry billows, and rolled over and over, bow foremost, till she
was lost to my sight in the distance. I cried out with terror, and my
own voice awoke me, when I found that my feet were projecting beyond the
shelter of the sail, and were bitterly cold.
I got up to warm them by stamping them up and down, and the noise awoke
my companions. They naturally told me to lie down and be quiet; but the
night was so fine and calm, that I said I would go a little way from
them not to disturb them, and would walk up and down for an hour or so.
I had no fancy for any more of those dreadful dreams, and I felt that
the exercise would do me good. As I looked out on the tranquil,
dark-shining sea, in which the glittering stars floating, so it seemed,
in the blue ether above me were reflected as in a mirror, all sorts of
strange fancies came into my head. I remembered all I had read or heard
of mermen and mermaids, of ocean monsters and sea-spirits, and I could
scarcely persuade myself that I did not see some gliding before me.
Certainly I could hear them: now there was a distant roar, now a loud
snorting noise near me; there were voices wandering through the air, and
strains of sweet music seemed to come up from the deep. I was almost
positive I could hear music: sweet and faint and soft as a seraph's
sigh, it came down to my ear on the gentle wind. I would on no account
have missed listening to that enchanting melody.
For a long time I continued gazing on the sea without feeling any
inclination to sleep, when I fancied that I saw the dark sails of a ship
about a mile off, and directly to windward of us. I peered into the
darkness to assure myself, for I did not like causelessly to arouse my
companions. How eagerly I looked may be supposed. If there was a ship
where I supposed, the music I had heard must have come from her. At
last I was almost confident that there was a ship; but as I had my
doubts, I went back to Andrew and touched his arm.
"Andrew," I said, trembling all over in my eagerness, "I do not wish to
raise false hopes, but look out there and tell me what you see."
"See, lad!--why, a sail; there's no doubt of it," he exclaimed
hurriedly. "A barque-rigged vessel standing on a bowline to the
north-west. She's a whaler, I suspect; but how to make the keenest ears
on board hear us, is a puzzle."
We called Terence and Tom, who instantly sprung to their feet and joined
us in looking out for the stranger.
"Could not we make a fire as a signal?" I asked, "that would attract
her."
"You forget that our flint and steel went overboard, and the ice without
the sun won't light a fire," he answered; "but we will see what our
voices can do. Now, my lads, let's hail together."
On that, standing up, throwing out our chests, and putting our hands to
our mouths, we gave a shout which none but strong lungs could have
uttered. It must have been carried a good mile to windward over the
calm sea, but no responding cry came down to our anxious ears.
"There is no use wearing out our lungs with hallooing," said Terence.
"They wouldn't hear us, up to windward there, even if they were much
nearer. We must have patience, shipmates!--it's no use."
"God's will be done," ejaculated Andrew. "He may yet think fit to send
us help."
The tone Andrew gave to our minds prevented us from despairing or
sinking into despondency. I do not mean to say that we did not, at
first, feel the most bitter disappointment as the ship receded into the
darkness which surrounded us, but this feeling did not endure. We, as
our wise companion advised us, "trusted in God that He would save us;"
and we all along felt that He would do so.
We earnestly watched the ship as long as she was visible, and long
after, though we scarcely expected her to tack, or to repass near. At
length we returned to our raft, and endeavoured to forget our
disappointment in sleep. We lay down, under our sealskin and sail, and
after an hour's trial, I once more closed my eyes. How long I had slept
I do not know, when I was again awoke by a loud noise and a violent
movement of the iceberg.
Andrew suddenly started up, exclaiming, "The time has come! Hold on to
the raft, my lads; hold on."
He meantime seized a boarding-pike, ready to steady the raft. His
impression was that the iceberg was in the act of rolling over, and that
now was the time our raft would be of service, if it could survive the
waves caused by the submersion of the snow-formed mountain on which we
rested.
We waited in awful suspense, believing that our last moment had indeed
arrived. It is difficult to calculate time on such occasions.
Gradually the rocking movement of the berg ceased, and we found that the
ledge on which we were posted had sloped rather more towards the water
than before, so that it was necessary to continue holding on by the
boarding-pike to prevent its gliding off.
"What has happened?" I exclaimed, as I first again drew breath freely.
"I thought it was all over with us."
"So did I, lad, at first, before I had time to think. I now suspect the
cause of the commotion; and it is a mercy that the consequences have not
been more terrible. When the circumstance which has just taken place
happens, the whalers say that an iceberg has calved--that is, a huge
lump of ice has broken away from the base of the berg, and has floated
up to the top of the water. The noise we heard was when it struck
against other parts, and first came to the surface. The loss of a large
mass, of course, makes the berg lop-sided; and should another lump break
away, it may go right over. Should we survive till the morning, we
shall probably see the calf floating near us. I have known large ships
overwhelmed by bergs falling on them. You know that it is the custom to
moor ships to the lee side of a berg, to prevent their drifting to
leeward with a contrary wind. A friend of mine, who gave me the
account, belonged to a whaler, the _Thomas_, of Hull, Captain Taylor,
fishing in Davis's Straits. Well, one day they lay moored to an
iceberg, with a long scope of warp out, and thought themselves quite
secure. On a sudden, without any notice, as they were sitting at
dinner, a tremendous noise was heard and a blow was felt, just as if the
ship had struck on a rock. Up went the bow in the air, till the keel
showed above water, and the taffrail was almost under it. All thought
the ship must go down; but still she floated, not much the worse for the
blow. It was found, what all the old whale-men knew well enough, that a
calf had broken away from the bottom of the berg, but fortunately had
struck the keel fairly, without injuring the ship's bottom. Sometimes a
calf falls from the top of a berg; but I hope one will not come down on
our heads, for if it does, it will settle us outright."
Andrew said this quite calmly, though he felt that what he was
describing might any moment happen. He afterwards reminded us that
pieces were more likely to fall from the summit in the day-time, when
the sun was shining on it, than at night, and that therefore we should
not let the thought oppress us.
It may be supposed that we did not sleep, nor attempt to sleep, any more
that night. As there was no moon, we had not any means of ascertaining
how the time passed; but we calculated that it was about two o'clock in
the morning when the last occurrence I have described took place. The
air had been very light when I first looked out; now it was a perfect
calm, so that not even a ripple was heard against the side of the berg.
We were therefore not uncomfortable, as far as our feelings went, could
we have divested ourselves of the recollection of the peril to which we
were momentarily exposed.
Oh how long that night seemed! I fancied, that it would never have an
end: each minute seemed prolonged to an hour--each hour to a winter's
night. Sometimes we talked, and listened to Andrew's description of the
events which had occurred to him when he before visited the Polar Sea.
At other times we were all silent together; but Andrew took care this
should not last long; and never did man so exert himself to keep up the
spirits of his companions. He was actuated by a true Christian spirit;
and nothing else would have enabled him, I am confident, to forget
himself and watch over us in the way he did.
There had been a spell of silence, when Terence exclaimed, "What say
you, Andrew, if we were to launch our raft, and try to reach the coast
of Newfoundland while the calm lasts? It might be done, might it not?"
"I think not," was Andrew's reply. "While we remain on the iceberg, we
have a chance of being seen; but, on a raft, a ship may pass close to us
and not heed us, while, if a gale should come on, the raft would not
live an instant. Even should we near the coast, which I do not think
likely, we should probably be knocked to pieces on the rocks; so I say
stay to the last extremity. If the iceberg won't hold us, then take to
the raft."
Of course we determined to follow Andrew's advice; indeed, we all looked
up to him as our guide and captain. With no little thankfulness did we
welcome the first streaks of dawn on the eastern horizon. Again we
knelt down and offered our prayers to Heaven. We had scarcely risen to
our feet when a shout of joy escaped from our lips; for there, in the
grey misty dawn, with her canvas hanging against her masts, lay
motionless on the calm water a ship--the same, doubtless, which we
fancied had passed far away from us in the night. Was that calm sent by
Providence to effect, our salvation? The result will prove it, or when
His now inscrutable ways are made manifest. How our hearts beat with
hope and fear! My first impulse was to scream out to her. I checked
myself, and asked Andrew what he would advise. He did not answer for
some time.
Eagerly we watched the stranger. She was a barque--a whaler, no doubt.
"Will she see us?" we asked one another. "Will she near the iceberg
again, or will she sail off in an opposite direction?"
Those who have been placed in a similar position to the one in which we
were, can alone truly comprehend to the full the intensity of our
feelings. We could scarcely breathe--we could scarcely speak. All our
thoughts were concentrated in that one point; our very being seemed
wrapped up, as it were, in it. The night had passed slowly away; but
still more slow did the light of day seem to creep over the world.
I said we were for some time silent. At last Andrew answered my
question by saying, "The first thing we must do, shipmates, is to climb
up to the top of the berg, and spread out our red handkerchiefs; so as
to show a broad face to those on board yonder vessel. As soon as the
sun is high enough, we'll try and light a fire, and the smoke may be
seen by them; but if not, then we must trust ourselves to the raft, and
try to paddle up to her. Perhaps we may reach her before a breeze
springs up; but perhaps not. Yet I don't think it will get up till
noon."
"But why not get on the raft at once?" I urged; for I had more
confidence in it than he had.
"Because if we do, we may not be able to return to the iceberg, which we
should wish to do if we miss the ship," he answered. "But on that point
I will agree to what you all wish. What do you say, Tom?--you are the
youngest, and should speak first."
"I say, then, let us try the raft," said Tom, who fancied even that he
could swim to the ship.
"And so do I," I added.
"And I," exclaimed Terence, eagerly. "We'll drive her up to the ship in
no time."
"Then, shipmates, the sooner we are off the better," we all cried out
together.
Terence and I climbed up to the top of the berg, and spread out our
handkerchiefs between two upright spars, and we thought they could not
fail of being seen. Andrew and Tom, meantime, were filling the iron pot
with water, collecting some of our seal flesh, and otherwise getting our
raft ready. Securing one end of our rope to a point of ice, we eased
the raft carefully down into the sea. To our satisfaction it floated
well alongside, but it required great caution not to upset it as we
stepped upon it. We at once saw that Andrew had good reason for not
wishing to trust to it; for no sooner were we on it, than, calm as the
sea was, the water washed completely over it, and, had we not placed two
planks across it to sit on, we should have been wet through directly.
We each of us held a small piece of the boat's planking in our hands to
serve as paddles.
"Away we go, my lads," exclaimed Terence, as he gave a strong shove
against the iceberg with a boarding-pike; and with a cheer, which,
perilous as was our adventure, we could not repress, we began vigorously
to ply our paddles. It was a matter of life and death, we saw. If we
missed the ship, our chance of returning to the iceberg was small
indeed. Our progress was very slow. We might have made a mile an
hour--perhaps not so much--and we had three miles to go at least. Still
we did not flag in our exertions. We each of us chewed a piece of
seal's flesh to stay our hunger, though we had no inclination or power
to swallow anything. We scarcely spoke a word all the time, but every
now and then we turned a glance back, to judge how far we had got from
our late abode.
One mile was passed, and we were not seen. Indeed, so small a speck as
we were on the ocean, we could not expect to be observed till the sun
had risen. Our great anxiety was respecting the wind--still the sea
continued calm as a mirror. On we went--our eyes were on the ship's
sails. Alas! a light cat's-paw skimmed across the ocean--the
topgallant-sails of the barque blew out; but before they had any
influence in impelling her through the water, they again drooped as
before. Another cat's-paw came stronger than the first, and rippled the
whole surrounding surface.
Oh with what agony we saw the topsails bulge out, and the barque's head
turn from us! We simultaneously shouted, or rather shrieked out in our
eagerness. It was of no avail. We strove to drive the raft on faster
than before. What could our utmost efforts accomplish in overtaking a
ship, her sails filled even with the light air then blowing? No longer
were cat's-paws playing on the surface of the sea, but a well-defined
ripple, almost small waves, were covering every part of it; and, as we
worked our way among them, they washed around our feet. Every sail on
board the barque began to draw; she had got steerage way, and was
standing from us. We were not seen; and hope, which had hitherto
sustained us, fled. Our hearts sunk, and scarcely could we longer ply
our useless paddles.
"Andrew, what say you to this?" asked Terence at length.
"Persevere to the last, like men," replied Andrew. "We may have to
return to the iceberg; but even then we must not lose courage, or our
trust in Providence."
Just then the sun rose from his watery bed with glorious refulgence in
an unclouded sky. I looked back, to judge how far we had got from the
iceberg. Truly if it had appeared beautiful when we were on it, doubly
so it did appear now, glittering in the beams of the sun; some parts of
alabaster whiteness, and the rest tinged with hues of gold and pink and
most transparent blue. It was an object well calculated to attract the
eyes of a stranger.
A cry from my companions made me turn my head. The barque's sails were
shivering, as she luffed up to the wind. Directly after a boat was seen
to be lowered, and quickly being manned, it pulled towards us. Then
indeed our hearts rose to our bosoms, and we shouted with joy. Poor
Tom, from the great revulsion of feeling, was nearly fainting and
falling off the raft, had we not supported him. Still we paddled on,
and the boat seemed to fly towards us. She was quite close to us, when,
in our joy we waved our paddles above our heads, and gave way to another
shout.
"Hillo, who have we here?" exclaimed a voice from the boat. "What,
mates, we didn't see you!"
Such was the case; they had seen our signal, but had overlooked us. The
surgeon of the ship, never having before seen an iceberg, was gazing at
it with his glass, and was the first to remark our handkerchiefs; and
not being able to make out what they were, he had directed to them the
captain's attention. He was in the boat, and assisted to help us off
our raft.
Once on board and safe, the strength which had hitherto supported us,
gave way, and we sunk down to the bottom of the boat, overpowered with
various emotions. I trust and believe that we were all of us grateful
to Heaven for our wonderful preservation.
The boat towed our raft alongside, as it was too valuable for firewood
to be lost. We were hoisted on board, unable to help ourselves, and
were received by the master, officers, and crew with the greatest
kindness and attention. The surgeon ordered us at once to be put into
warm hammocks, while some warm liquid was poured down our throats, which
soon restored us. However, no one questioned us about our adventures
till we were more completely recovered.
Two events occurred which ought to have increased, if they did not, our
sense of gratitude for our preservation. Scarcely had our feet touched
the deck of the barque than a strong breeze sprang up, which sent her at
the rate of some seven knots an hour through the water, far away from
the iceberg. Before, however, she had run out of sight of that floating
island, its glittering summits were seen to lean forward, and, with a
sound which could be heard at that distance, to fall prostrate in the
water, while the waves created by its submersion reached so far as
perceptibly to lift the ship as they passed. Thus was I, with my
companions, preserved from the most awful and perilous position in which
I was ever placed.