CHAPTER VIII.THE TALK OF THE CREW.
Nevertheless, by taking advantages of such openings as there were, the_Forward_ succeeded in getting a few minutes farther north; but,instead of escaping the enemy, it would soon be necessary to attackit; ice-fields of many miles in extent were drawing together, and asthese moving masses often represent a pressure of ten millions oftons, they were obliged to take every precaution against being crushedby them. Ice-saws were placed outside the vessel, where they could beused without delay.
Some of the crew endured their hard toil without a murmur, but otherscomplained or even refused to obey orders. While they were putting thesaws in place, Garry, Bolton, Pen, and Gripper exchanged their diverseopinions as follows.
"Deuce take it," said Bolton, cheerfully; "I don't know why it justoccurs to me that in Water Street there's a comfortable tavern, whereone might be very well off between a glass of gin and a bottle ofporter. Can you see it from here, Gripper?"
"To tell the truth," answered the sailor who had been addressed, andwho generally pretended to be very sullen, "I must say I can't see itfrom here."
"That's merely your way of talking, Gripper; it is evident that, inthose snow towns which Dr. Clawbonny is always admiring, there's notavern where a poor sailor can moisten his throat with a drink or twoof brandy."
"You may be sure of that, Bolton; and you might add that on board ofthis ship there's no way of getting properly refreshed. A strangeidea, sending people into the northern seas, and giving them nothingto drink!"
"Well," answered Garry, "have you forgotten, Gripper, what the doctorsaid? One must go without spirits if he expects to escape the scurvy,remain in good health, and sail far."
"I don't care to sail far, Garry; and I think it's enough to have comeas far as this, and to try to get through here where the Devil doesn'tmean to let us through."
"Well, we sha'n't get through," retorted Pen. "O, when I think I havealready forgotten how gin tastes!"
"But," said Bolton, "remember what the doctor said."
"O," answered Pen, with his rough voice, "that's all very well to say!I fancy that they are economizing it under the pretext of saving ourhealth."
"Perhaps that devil Pen is right," said Gripper.
"Come, come!" replied Bolton, "his nose is too red for that; and if alittle abstinence should make it a trifle paler, Pen won't need to bepitied."
"Don't trouble yourself about my nose," was the answer, for Pen wasrather vexed. "My nose doesn't need your advice; it doesn't ask forit; you'd better mind your own business."
"Come, don't be angry, Pen; I didn't think your nose was so tender. Ishould be as glad as any one else to have a glass of whiskey,especially on such a cold day; but if in the long run it does moreharm than good, why, I'm very willing to get along without it."
"You may get along without it," said Warren, the stoker, who hadjoined them, "but it's not everybody on board who gets along withoutit."
"What do you mean, Warren?" asked Garry, looking at him intently.
"I mean that for one purpose or another there is liquor aboard, and Ifancy that aft they don't get on without it."
"What do you know about it?" asked Garry.
Warren could not answer; he spoke for the sake of speaking.
"You see, Garry," continued Bolton, "that Warren knows nothing aboutit."
"Well," said Pen, "we'll ask the commander for a ration of gin; wedeserve it, and we'll see what he'll say."
"I advise you not to," said Garry.
"Why not?" cried Pen and Gripper.
"Because the commander will refuse it. You knew what the conditionswere when you shipped; you ought to think of that now."
"Besides," said Bolton, who was not averse to taking Garry's side, forhe liked him, "Richard Shandon is not master; he's under orders likethe rest of us."
"Whose orders?" asked Pen.
"The captain's."
"Ah, that ridiculous captain's!" cried Pen. "Don't you know there's nomore captain than there is tavern on the ice? That's a mean way ofrefusing politely what we ask for."
"But there is a captain," persisted Bolton; "and I'll wager twomonths' pay that we shall see him before long."
"All right!" said Pen; "I should like to give him a piece of my mind."
"Who's talking about the captain?" said a new speaker.
It was Clifton, who was inclined to be superstitious and envious atthe same time.
"Is there any news about the captain?" he asked.
"No," a single voice answered.
"Well, I expect to find him settled in his cabin some fine morning,and without any one's knowing how or whence he came aboard."
"Nonsense!" answered Bolton; "you imagine, Clifton, that he's an imp,a hobgoblin such as are seen in the Scotch Highlands."
"Laugh if you want to, Bolton; that won't alter my opinion. Every dayas I pass the cabin I peep in through the keyhole, and one of thesedays I'll tell you what he looks like, and how he's made."
"O, the devil!" said Pen; "he'll look like everybody else. And if hewants to lead us where we don't want to go, we'll let him know what wethink about it."
"All right," said Bolton; "Pen doesn't know him, and wants to quarrelwith him already."
"Who doesn't know all about him?" asked Clifton, with the air of a manwho has the whole story at his tongue's end; "I should like to knowwho doesn't."
"What do you mean?" asked Gripper.
"I know very well what I mean."
"But we don't."
"Well, Pen has already had trouble with him."
"With the captain?"
"Yes, the dog-captain; for it's the same thing precisely."
The sailors gazed at one another, incapable of replying.
"Dog or man," muttered Pen, between his teeth, "I'll bet he'll get hisaccount settled one of these days."
"Why, Clifton," asked Bolton, seriously, "do you imagine, as Johnsonsaid in joke, that that dog is the real captain?"
"Certainly, I do," answered Clifton, with some warmth; "and if you hadwatched him as carefully as I have, you'd have noticed his strangeways."
"What ways? Tell us."
"Haven't you noticed the way he walks up and down the poop-deck as ifhe commanded the ship, keeping his eye on the sails as if he were onwatch?"
"That's so," said Gripper; "and one evening I found him with his pawson the wheel."
"Impossible!" said Bolton.
"And then," continued Clifton, "doesn't he run out at night on theice-fields without caring for the bears or the cold?"
"That's true," said Bolton.
"Did you ever see him making up to the men like an honest dog, orhanging around the kitchen, and following the cook when he's carryinga savory dish to the officers? Haven't you all heard him at night,when he's run two or three miles away from the vessel, howling so thathe makes your blood run cold, and that's not easy in weather likethis? Did you ever seen him eat anything? He never takes a morsel fromany one; he never touches the food that's given him, and, unless someone on board feeds him secretly, I can say he lives without eating.Now, if that's not strange, I'm no better than a beast myself."
"Upon my word," answered Bell, the carpenter, who had heard all ofClifton's speech, "it may be so."
But all the other sailors were silent.
"Well, as for me," continued Clifton, "I can say that if you don'tbelieve, there are wiser people on board who don't seem so sure."
"Do you mean the mate?" asked Bolton.
"Yes, the mate and the doctor."
"Do you think they fancy the same thing?"
"I have heard them talking about it, and they could make no more outof it than we can; they imagined a thousand things which did notsatisfy them in the least."
"Did they say the same things about the dog that you did, Clifton?"asked the carpenter.
"If they were not talking about the dog," answered Clifton, who wasfairly cornered, "they were talking about the captain; it's exactlythe same thing, an
d they confessed it was all very strange."
"Well, my friends," said Bell, "do you want to hear my opinion?"
"What is it!" they all cried.
"It is that there is not, and there will not be, any other captainthan Richard Shandon."
"And the letter?" said Clifton.
"The letter was genuine," answered Bell; "it is perfectly true thatsome unknown person has equipped the _Forward_ for an expedition inthe ice; but the ship once off, no one will come on board."
"Well," asked Bolton, "where is the ship going to?"
"I don't know; at the right time, Richard Shandon will get the rest ofthe instructions."
"But from whom?"
"From whom?"
"Yes, in what way?" asked Bolton, who was becoming persistent.
"Come, Bell, an answer," said the other sailors.
"From whom? in what way? O, I'm sure I don't know!"
"Well, from the dog!" cried Clifton. "He has already written once, andhe can again. O, if I only knew half as much as he does, I might beFirst Lord of the Admiralty!"
"So," added Bolton, in conclusion, "you persist in saying that dog isthe captain?"
"Yes, I do."
"Well," said Pen, gruffly, "if that beast doesn't want to die in adog's skin, he'd better hurry and turn into a man; for, on my word,I'll finish him."
"Why so?" asked Garry.
"Because I want to," answered Pen, brutally; "and I don't care whatany one says."
"You have been talking long enough, men," shouted the boatswain,advancing at the moment when the conversation threatened to becomedangerous; "to work, and have the saws put in quicker! We must getthrough the ice."
"Good! on Friday too," answered Clifton, shrugging his shoulders. "Youwon't find it so easy to cross the Polar Circle."
Whatever the reason may have been, the exertions of the crew on thatday were nearly fruitless. The _Forward_, plunging, under a full headof steam, against the floes, could not separate them; they wereobliged to lie at anchor that night.
On Saturday, the temperature fell still lower under the influence ofan east-wind; the sky cleared up, and they all had a wide view overthe white expense, which shone brilliantly beneath the bright rays ofthe sun. At seven o'clock in the morning, the thermometer stood at 8degrees above zero.
The doctor was tempted to remain quietly in his cabin, or read overthe accounts of arctic journeys; but he asked himself, following hisusual habit, what would be the most disagreeable thing he could do atthat moment. He thought that to go on deck on such a cold day and helpthe men would not be attractive. So, faithful to his line of conduct,he left his well-warmed cabin, and went out to help tow the ship. Helooked strange with his green glasses, which he wore to protect hiseyes against the brilliancy of the sun, and after that he always tookgood care to wear snow-spectacles as a security against theinflammation of the eyes, which is so common in these latitudes.
By evening the _Forward_ had got several miles farther north, thanksto the energy of the men and the intelligence of Shandon, who wasquick at utilizing every favorable circumstance; at midnight theycrossed the sixty-sixth parallel, and the lead announcing a depth oftwenty-three fathoms, Shandon knew that he was in the neighborhood ofthe shoal on which her Majesty's ship _Victory_ grounded. Land laythirty miles to the east.
But then the mass of ice, which had hitherto been stationary,separated, and began to move; icebergs seemed to rise in all points ofthe horizon; the brig was caught in a number of whirlpools ofirresistible force; controlling her became so hard, that Garry, thebest steersman, took the helm; the masses began to close behind thebrig, hence it was necessary to cut through the ice; both prudence andduty commanded them to go forward. The difficulties were enhanced bythe impossibility of Shandon's fixing the direction of the brig amongall the changing points, which were continually shifting andpresenting no definite point to be aimed at.
The crew were divided into two forces, and one stationed on thestarboard, the other on the larboard side; every man was given a longiron-headed pole, with which to ward off threatening pieces of ice.Soon the _Forward_ entered such a narrow passage between two loftypieces, that the ends of the yards touched its solid walls; graduallyit penetrated farther into a winding valley filled with a whirlwind ofsnow, while the floating ice was crashing ominously all about.
But soon it was evident that there was no outlet to this gorge; a hugeblock, caught in the channel, was floating swiftly down to the_Forward_; it seemed impossible to escape it, and equally impossibleto return through an already closed path.
Shandon and Johnson, standing on the forward deck, were viewing theirposition. Shandon with his right hand signalled to the man at thewheel what direction he was to take, and with his left hand heindicated to James Wall the orders for the engines.
"What will be the end of this?" asked the doctor of Johnson.
"What pleases God," answered the boatswain.
The block of ice, eight hundred feet high, was hardly more than acable's length from the _Forward_, and threatened to crush it.
Pen broke out with a fearful oath.
"Silence!" cried a voice which it was impossible to recognize in theroar of the hurricane.
The mass appeared to be falling upon the brig, and there was anindefinable moment of terror; the men, dropping their poles, ran aftin spite of Shandon's orders.
Suddenly, a terrible noise was heard; a real water-spout fell on thedeck of the brig, which was lifted in the air by a huge wave. The crewuttered a cry of terror, while Garry, still firm at the wheel, keptthe course of the _Forward_ steady, in spite of the fearful lurch.
And when they looked for the mountain of ice, it had disappeared; thepassage was free, and beyond, a long channel, lit up by the sun,allowed the brig to continue her advance.
"Well, Dr. Clawbonny," said Johnson, "can you explain that?"
"It's very simple, my friend," answered the doctor. "It happens veryoften; when these floating masses get detached in a thaw, they floataway in perfect equilibrium; but as they get towards the south, wherethe water is relatively warmer, their base, eaten away by running intoother pieces, begins to melt, and be undermined; then comes a momentwhen the centre of gravity is displaced, and they turn upside down.Only, if this had happened two minutes later, it would have fallen onthe brig and crushed us beneath it."