THE COMING FROST--SILAS WARNS THE "ARRANDOON" OF DANGER--FORGING THROUGH
THE ICE--BESET--A STRANGE AND ALARMING ACCIDENT.
So willingly and merrily worked all hands on the ice, that in less than
three days the _Canny Scotia_ was almost a full, though by no means a
bumper ship, and poor Silas began to see visions of future happiness in
his mind's eye, when he should return to his native land and complete
the joy of his family. Unfortunately, however, his good fortune did not
last for the present. How seldom, indeed, good luck does last in this
world of ours! One day, towards midnight, the sky apparently assumed a
brighter blue. This seemed to concern Silas considerably. The good man
was walking the deck at the time with his inseparable companion the
first mate, neither of whom ever appeared now to court sleep or rest.
"Matie," said Silas, pointing skywards, "do you see any difference in
the colour yonder?"
"That do I!" replied the mate.
"And hasn't it got much colder?"
"Well, both of us have been walking," the chief officer returned, "at
the rate of several knots, just to keep the dear life in us, and I never
saw you, sir, with your hands so deep in your pockets before."
Down rushed the captain to consult his glass; he was speedily up again,
however. "It is just as I thought," he said. "Now come up into the
nest with me; there's room for both of us. Look!" he added, as soon as
they had reached their barrel of observation, "the rascals know what is
coming. They are taking the water, and before ten minutes there won't
be a seal with his nose on that bit of pack. Heigho, matie! heigho!
that is just like my luck. If I'd been born a tailor, every man would
have been born a Highlander, and made his own kilts. But hi! up, matie,
Silas doesn't mean to let his heart down yet for a bit. A black frost
is on the wing. There is no help for that, but the _Arrandoon's_ people
don't seem to know it. I must off over and tell them;" and even as he
spoke Silas began descending the Jacob's ladder. "Call all hands!" he
cried, as he disappeared over the side; "we must work her round as long
as the pieces are anything loose-like."
It was not a long journey to the big sister ship, and the sturdy legs of
this ancient mariner would soon get him there. But he would not wait
till alongside; he needs must hail her while still many yards from her
dark and stately sides.
"What ho, there!" he bawled. "_Arrandoon_ ahoy!"
That voice of his was a wonderful one. It might have awakened the dead;
it was like a ten-horse power speaking-trumpet lined with the roughest
emery-paper. Seals heard it far down beneath the ice, and came to the
surface to listen and to marvel. A great bear was sitting not twenty
yards from Silas. He thought he should like to eat Silas, but he could
not swallow that voice, so he went across the ice instead. Then the
voice rolled in over the vessel's bulwarks, startled the officer on
duty, and went ringing down below through the state-rooms, causing our
sleeping heroes to tumble out of their bunks with double-quick speed,
even the usually late and lazy Ralph evincing more celerity than ever he
had done in his life before.
They met, rubbing their eyes and looking cold and foolish, all in a knot
in the saloon. Cold and foolish, and a little bit frightened as well,
for the words of Silas sounded terribly like "the _Arrandoon_ on fire!"
Not a bit of it, for there came the hail again, and distinct enough this
time.
"_Arrandoon_ ahoy! Is everybody dead on board?"
"What _is_ the matter?" cried McBain, as soon as he got on deck, dressed
as he was in the garments of night.
"Black frost, Captain McBain," answered Silas, springing up the side,
"and you'll soon find that matter enough, or my name ain't Grig, nor my
luck like a bad wind, always veering in the wrong direction. The seals
are gone, sir--every mother's son o' them! My advice is--but, dear me,
gentlemen! go below and rig out. Why, here's four more of you! That
ain't the raiment for a black frost! You look like five candidates for
a choking good influenza!" This first bit of advice being taken in good
part, "Now," continued Silas, "your next best holt, Captain McBain, will
be to get up steam, and get her head pointed away for the blue water,
else there is no saying we may not leave our bones here."
"Ah!" exclaimed McBain, "we've no wish to do that. And here comes our
worthy engineer. The old question, chief--How soon can you get us under
way?"
"With the American hams, sir," was the quiet reply, "in about twenty
minutes; with a morsel of nice blubber that I laid in especially for the
purpose of emergencies, in far less time than that."
"Thanks!" said McBain, smiling; "use anything, but don't lose time."
The ships lay far from the open sea. They had been "rove" a long way in
through the pack, to get close to the seals, but, independently of that,
floating streams of ice, one after another, had joined the outer edge of
this immense field of bergs, placing them at a greater distance from the
welcome water.
Steam was speedily roaring, and ready for its work. Then, not without
considerable difficulty, the vessel was put about, and the voyage
seaward was commenced. Slow and tedious this voyage was bound to be,
for there was so little wind it was useless to shake the sails loose, so
the duty of towing her consorts devolved upon the _Arrandoon_. Instead
of remaining on his own ship, Silas Grig came on board the steamer,
where his services as iceman were fully appreciated.
As yet the frost had made no appreciable difference to the solidity of
the pack; a very gentle swell was moving the pieces--a swell that rolled
in from seaward, causing the whole scene around to look like a tract of
snow-clad land, acted on by the giant force of an earthquake. Forging
ahead through such ice, even by the aid of steam, is hard, slow work;
and, assisted as the _Arrandoon_ was by men walking in front of her and
pushing on the bergs with long poles, hardly could she make a headway of
half a mile an hour, and there were twenty good miles to traverse! It
was a weary task, but the men bent their backs cheerfully to it, as
British sailors ever do to a duty that has to be performed.
[Light lie the earth on the breast of the gallant Captain Brownrigg,
R.N., and green be the grass on his grave. My young readers know the
story; it is such stories as his they ought to read; such men as he
ought to be enshrined in their memory. Betrayed by treacherous Arabs,
with a mere handful of men he fought their powerful dhow and guns; and
even when hope itself had fled he made no attempt to escape, but fought
on and fought on, till he fell pierced with twenty wounds. He was a
heroic sailor, and _he was doing his duty_!]
Even had it been possible to keep up the men's strength, forty hours
must have elapsed ere the _Arrandoon_ would be rising and falling on
blue water. But many hours had not gone by ere the men got a rest they
little cared for--for down went the swell, the motion among the bergs
was stilled, and frost began its work of welding them together.
"Just like my luck, now, isn't it?" said Silas, when he found the ship
could not be budged another inch, and was quite surrounded by heavy ice.
"I don't believe in luck," said Captain McBain; "and, after all, things
might have turned out even worse than they have."
"Oh!" said Silas, "I'm not the man to grumble or growl. We are
comfortable and jolly, and we have plenty to eat."
"We won't have much sport, though," said Rory, with a sigh, "if we have
to remain here long, for the bears will follow the seals, won't they?"
"That they will," replied Silas, "and small blame to them; it is exactly
what I should like to do myself."
"Well, you can, you know," said McBain, laughing. "We have a splendid
balloon. De Vere will take you for a fly I'm sure, if you'll ask him."
"What! trust myself up in the clouds!" cried Silas; "thank you very much
for the offer, but if ill-luck has kept following my footsteps all my
life, ill-luck would be sure to follow me if I attempted any aerial
flights, and I'd come down by the run."
"Well, we're fairly beset, anyhow," said Rory, "and I daresay we'll have
to try to make the best of it."
So guns were placed disconsolately ill the racks, as soon as the
terrible black frost had quite set in, or if they were taken out when a
walk was determined on, it was only for fashion's sake, and for the fear
that an occasional bear might be met with. But it was good fun breaking
bottles with rifle bullets, and good practice as well. As the days went
on, and there were no signs of the pack breaking up, a number of books
were taken down to be perused, much time was spent in playing piano or
violin, or both together, while after dinner the hours were devoted to
talking. Many a racy yarn was told by Cobb, many an adventure by Seth,
and many a queer experience by Silas Grig, and duly appreciated, too.
So the evenings did not seem long, whatever the days did.
Said Silas one morning to McBain, as they stood together leaning on the
bulwarks.
"I don't quite like the look of that ice, captain; it is precious big,
and if it came on to press a bit, why, it would go clean through the
ribs of us, strong though our good ships are. And that cockle-shell of
Cobb's would be the very first to go down to the bottom."
"Or up to the top," suggested McBain.
"What?" laughed Silas; "would you clap your balloon top of her, and lift
her out like?"
"No, not that; but we could hoist her high and dry on top of the ice
easily enough."
"Well, I declare," cried Silas, clapping one brawny hand on his knee,
"that is a glorious idea. And an old iceman like me to never think of
it!"