CHAPTER XXII.THE FIRST SIGNS OF MUTINY.
At this unexpected command, the surprise on board of the _Forward_ wasvery great.
"Light the fires!" said some.
"With what?" said others.
"When we have only two months' supply in the hold!" cried Pen.
"And how are we to keep warm in the winter?" asked Clifton.
"We shall have to burn the ship down to the water-line, I suppose,"said Gripper.
"And cram all the masts into the stove," answered Warren, "from theforetopmast to the jib-boom."
Shandon gazed intently at Wall. The surprised engineers hesitated togo down into the engine-room.
"Did you hear what I said?" shouted the captain, angrily.
Brunton walked toward the hatchway; but he stopped before going down.
"Don't go, Brunton," some one said.
"Who spoke then?" shouted Hatteras.
"I did," said Pen, approaching the captain.
"And what is it you're saying?" asked the captain.
"I say--I say," answered Pen with many oaths,--"I say that we have hadenough of this, that we are not going any farther, that we don't wantto wear ourselves out with fatigue and cold during the winter, andthat the fires shall not be lighted."
"Mr. Shandon," answered Hatteras, coldly, "have this man put inirons."
"But, Captain," said Shandon, "what this man said--"
"If you repeat what this man said," retorted Hatteras, "I shall orderyou to your cabin and confine you there. Seize that man! Do you hear?"
Johnson, Bell, and Simpson stepped towards the sailor, who was besidehimself with wrath.
"The first man who lays a finger on me--" he cried, seizing ahandspike, which he flourished about his head.
Hatteras walked towards him.
"Pen," he said very quietly, "if you move hand or foot, I shall blowyour brains out!"
With these words he drew a revolver and aimed it at the sailor.
A murmur arose from the crew.
"Not a word from any of you," said Hatteras, "or he's a dead man."
At that moment Johnson and Bell disarmed Pen, who no longer resisted,and suffered himself to be led to the bottom of the hold.
"Now go below, Brunton," said Hatteras.
The engineer, followed by Plover and Warren, went below. Hatterasreturned to the quarter-deck.
"That Pen is a worthless fellow," the doctor said to him.
"No man was ever nearer death," answered the captain, simply.
Soon there was enough steam on; the anchors of the _Forward_ wereraised; and the brig started eastward, heading for Point Beecher, andcutting through the newly formed ice.
A great number of islands lie between Baring Island and Point Beecher,scattered in the midst of the ice-fields; the ice-streams crowd ingreat numbers in the little straits into which they divide the sea;when the weather is cold they have a tendency to accumulate; here andthere hummocks were forming, and it was easy to see that the floes,already harder and more crowded, would, under the influence of thefirst frosts, soon form an impenetrable mass.
It was with great difficulty that the _Forward_ made her way throughthe whirling snow. Still, with the variability which is a peculiarityof these regions, the sun would appear from time to time; the air grewmuch milder; the ice melted as if by enchantment, and a clear expanseof water, a most welcome sight to the eyes of the crew, spread outbefore them where a few moments before the ice had blocked theirprogress. All over the horizon there spread magnificent orange tints,which rested their eyes, weary with gazing at the eternal snow.
Thursday, July 26th, the _Forward_ coasted along Dundas Island, andthen stood more northward; but there she found herself face to facewith a thick mass of ice, eight or nine feet high, consisting oflittle icebergs washed away from the shore; they had to prolong thecurve they were making to the west. The continual cracking of the ice,joining with the creaking of the rolling ship, sounded like a gloomylamentation. At last the brig found a passage and advanced through itslowly; often a huge floe delayed her for hours; the fog embarrassedthe steersman; at one moment he could see a mile ahead, and it waseasy to avoid all obstacles; but again the snow-squalls would hideeverything from their sight at the distance of a cable's length. Thesea ran very high.
Sometimes the smooth clouds assumed a strange appearance, as if theywere reflecting the ice-banks; there were days when the sun could notpierce the dense mist.
The birds were still very numerous, and their cries were deafening;the seals, lying lazily on the drifting ice, raised their headswithout being frightened, and turned their long necks to watch theship go by. Often, too, the brig would leave bits of sheathing on theice against which she grazed.
Finally, after six days of this slow sailing, August 1st, PointBeecher was made, sighted in the north; Hatteras passed the last hoursin the lookout; the open sea, which Stewart had seen May 30, 1851,towards latitude 76 degrees 20 minutes, could not be far off, and yet,as far as Hatteras could see, he could make out no sign of an openpolar sea. He came down without saying a word.
"Do you believe in an open sea?" asked Shandon of the second mate.
"I'm beginning to have my doubts," answered James Wall.
"Wasn't I right in considering this pretended discovery as a merehypothesis? No one agreed with me, and you too, Wall,--you sidedagainst me."
"They'll believe you next time, Shandon."
"Yes," he answered, "when it's too late."
And he returned to his cabin, where he had kept himself almostexclusively since his discussion with the captain.
Towards evening the wind shifted to the south. Hatteras then set hissails and had the fires put out; for many days the crew were kept hardat work; every few minutes they had to tack or bear away, or toshorten sail quickly to stop the course of the brig; the braces couldnot run easily through the choked-up pulleys, and added to the fatigueof the crew; more than a week was required for them to reach PointBarrow. The _Forward_ had not made thirty miles in ten days.
Then the wind flew around to the north, and the engine was startedonce more. Hatteras still hoped to find an open sea beyond latitude 77degrees, such as Edward Belcher had seen.
And yet, if he believed in Penny's account, the part of the sea whichhe was now crossing ought to have been open; for Penny, having reachedthe limit of the ice, saw in a canoe the shores of Queen's Channel atlatitude 77 degrees.
Must he regard their reports as apochryphal, or had an unusually earlywinter fallen upon these regions?
August 15th, Mount Percy reared into the mist its peaks covered witheternal snow; a violent wind was hurling in their teeth a fierceshower of hail. The next day the sun set for the first time,terminating at last the long series of days twenty-four hours long.The men had finally accustomed themselves to this perpetual daylight;but the animals minded it very little; the Greenland dogs used to goto sleep at the usual hour, and even Duke lay down at the same hourevery evening, as if the night were dark.
Still, during the nights following August 16th the darkness was neververy marked; the sun, although it had set, still gave light enough byrefraction.
August 19th, after taking a satisfactory observation, Cape Franklinwas seen on the eastern side, and opposite it Cape Lady Franklin; atwhat was probably the farthest point reached by this bold explorer,his fellow-countrymen wanted the name of his devoted wife should beremembered along with his own, as an emblem of the sympathy whichalways united them. The doctor was much moved by this sight in thisdistant country.
In accordance with Johnson's advice, he began to accustom himself toenduring low temperature; he kept almost all the time on deck, bravingthe cold, wind, and snow. Although he had grown a little thinner, hedid not suffer from the severity of the climate. Besides, he expectedother dangers, and he rejoiced, almost, as he saw the winterapproaching.
"See," said he one day to Johnson,--"see those flocks of birds flyingsouth! How they fly and cry adieu!"
"Yes, Dr. Clawb
onny," answered Johnson, "something has told them itwas time to go, and they are off."
"More than one of our men, Johnson, would be glad to imitate them, Ifancy."
"They are timid fellows, Doctor; what a bird can't do, a man ought totry! Those birds have no supply of food, as we have, and they mustsupport themselves elsewhere. But sailors, with a good deck under thefeet, ought to go to the end of the world."
"You hope, then, that Hatteras will succeed in his projects?"
"He will succeed, Doctor."
"I agree with you, Johnson, even if only one faithful man accompanieshim--"
"There will be two of us!"
"Yes, Johnson," the doctor answered, pressing the brave sailor's hand.
Prince Albert's Land, along which the _Forward_ was now coasting, isalso called Grinnell's Land; and although Hatteras, from his disliketo Americans, never was willing to give it this name, nevertheless, itis the one by which it is generally known. This is the reason of thisdouble title: at the same time that the Englishman Penny gave it thename of Prince Albert, the captain of the _Rescue_, LieutenantDeHaven, named it Grinnell's Land, in honor of the American merchantwho had fitted out the expedition in New York.
As the brig followed the coast it met with serious difficulties, goingsometimes under sail, sometimes under steam. August 18th, MountBritannia was sighted through the mist, and the next day the _Forward_cast anchor in Northumberland Bay. The ship was completely protected.