The World of Ice

by R. M. Ballantyne

  CHAPTER THREE.

  THE VOYAGE--THE DOLPHIN AND HER CREW--ICE AHEAD--POLAR SCENES--MASTHEADOBSERVATIONS--THE FIRST WHALE--GREAT EXCITEMENT.

  And now we have fairly got into blue water--the sailor's delight, thelandsman's dread--

  "The sea! the sea! the open sea; The blue, the fresh, the ever free."

  "It's my opinion," remarked Buzzby to Singleton one day, as they stoodat the weather gangway, watching the foam that spread from the vessel'sbow as she breasted the waves of the Atlantic gallantly,--"It's myopinion that our skipper is made o' the right stuff. He's entered quiteinto the spirit of the thing, and I hear'd him say to the first mateyesterday, he'd made up his mind to run right up into Baffin's Bay, andmake enquiries for Captain Ellice first, before goin' to his usualwhalin'-ground. Now that's wot I call doin' the right thing; for, yesee, he runs no small risk o' gettin' beset in the ice, and losing thefishin' season altogether by so doin'."

  "He's a fine fellow," said Singleton; "I like him better every day, andI feel convinced he will do his utmost to discover the whereabouts ofour missing friend; but I fear much that our chances are small, foralthough we know the spot which Captain Ellice intended to visit, wecannot tell to what part of the frozen ocean, ice and currents may havecarried him."

  "True," replied Buzzby, giving to his left eye and cheek just thatpeculiar amount of screw which indicated intense sagacity andpenetration; "but I've a notion that, if they are to be found, CaptainGuy is the man to find 'em."

  "I hope it may turn out as you say. Have you ever been in these seasbefore, Buzzby?"

  "No, sir--never; but I've got a half-brother wot has bin in theGreenland whale-fishery, and I've bin in the south-sea line myself."

  "What line was that, Buzzby?" enquired David Summers, a sturdy boy ofabout fifteen, who acted as assistant steward, and was, in fact, anautical maid-of-all-work. "Was it a log-line, or a bow-line, or acod-line, or a bit of the equator?--eh!"

  The old salt deigned no reply to this passing sally, but continued hisconverse with Singleton.

  "I could give ye many a long yarn about the South Seas," said Buzzby,gazing abstractedly down into the deep. "One time, when I was aboutfifty mile to the sou'west o' Cape Horn, I--"

  "Dinner's ready, sir," said a thin, tall, active man, stepping smartlyup to Singleton, and touching his cap.

  "We must talk over that some other time, Buzzby. The captain lovespunctuality." So saying, the young surgeon sprang down the companionladder, leaving the old salt to smoke his pipe in solitude.

  And here we may pause a few seconds to describe our ship and her crew.

  The _Dolphin_ was a tight, new, barque-rigged vessel of about threehundred tons burden, built expressly for the northern whale-fishery, andcarried a crew of forty-five men. Ships that have to battle with theice require to be much more powerfully built, than those that sail inunencumbered seas. The _Dolphin_ united strength with capacity andbuoyancy. The under part of her hull and sides were strengthened withdouble timbers, and fortified externally with plates of iron; while,internally, stanchions and cross-beams were so arranged as to causepressure on any part to be supported by the whole structure; and on herbows, where shocks from the ice might be expected to be most frequentand severe, extra planking, of immense strength and thickness, wassecured. In other respects the vessel was fitted up much in the samemanner as ordinary merchantmen. The only other peculiarity about her,worthy of notice, was the crow's-nest, a sort of barrel-shaped structurefastened to the fore-masthead, in which, when at the whaling-ground, aman is stationed to look out for whales. The chief men in the ship wereCaptain Guy, a vigorous, practical American; Mr Bolton, the first mate,an earnest, stout, burly, off-hand Englishman; and Mr Saunders, thesecond mate, a sedate, broad-shouldered, raw-boned Scot, whose opinionof himself was unbounded, whose power of argument was extraordinary, notto say exasperating, and who stood six feet three in his stockings.Mivins, the steward, was, as we have already remarked, a tall, thin,active young man, of a brisk, lively disposition, and was somewhat of abutt among the men, but being in a position of power and trust he wasrespected. The young surgeon, Tom Singleton, whom we have yet scarcelyintroduced to the reader, was a tall, slim, but firmly-knit, youth, witha kind, gentle disposition. He was always open, straightforward, andpolite. He never indulged in broad humour, though he enjoyed it much,seldom ventured on a witticism, was rather shy in the company of hiscompanions, and spoke little; but for a quiet, pleasant _tete-a-tete_there was not a man in the ship equal to Tom Singleton. His countenancewas Spanish-looking and handsome, his hair black, short, and curling,and his budding moustache was soft and dark as the eyebrow of anAndalusian belle.

  It would be unpardonable, in this catalogue, to omit the cook, DavidMizzle. He was round, and fat, and oily, as one of his own "duff"puddings. To look at him you could not help suspecting that hepurloined, and ate, at least half of the salt pork he cooked, and hissly, dimpling laugh, in which every feature participated, from the pointof his broad chin to the top of his bald head, rather tended to favourthis supposition. Mizzle was prematurely bald--being quite a youngman,--and, when questioned on the subject, he usually attributed it tothe fact of his having been so long employed about the cooking-coppers,that the excessive heat to which he was exposed, had stewed all the hairoff his head! The crew was made up of stout, active men in the prime oflife, nearly all of whom had been more or less accustomed to thewhale-fishing, and some of the harpooners were giants in musculardevelopment and breadth of shoulder, if not in height.

  Chief among these harpooners was Amos Parr, a short, thick-set, powerfulman of about thirty-five, who had been at sea since he was a little boy,and had served in the fisheries of both the northern and southern seas.No one knew what country had the honour of producing him--indeed, he wasignorant of that point himself; for, although he had vivid recollectionsof his childhood having been spent among green hills, and trees, andstreamlets, he was sent to sea with a strange captain before he was oldenough to care about the name of his native land. Afterwards he ranaway from his ship, and so lost all chance of ever discovering who hewas; but, as he sometimes remarked, he didn't much care who he was, solong as he was _himself_; so it didn't matter. From a slightpeculiarity in his accent, and other qualities, it was surmised that hemust be an Irishman--a supposition which he rather encouraged, beingpartial to the sons, and particularly partial to the daughters, of theEmerald Isle, one of which last he had married just six months beforesetting out on this whaling expedition.

  Such was the _Dolphin_ and her crew, and merrily they bowled along overthe broad Atlantic with favouring winds, and without meeting withanything worthy of note until they neared the coast of Greenland.

  One fine morning, just as the party in the cabin had finished breakfast,and were dallying with the last few morsels of the repast, as men whohave more leisure than they desire, are wont to do, there was a suddenshock felt, and a slight tremor passed through the ship, as if somethinghad struck her.

  "Ha!" exclaimed Captain Guy, finishing his cup of chocolate, "there goesthe first bump."

  "Ice ahead, sir!" said the first mate, looking down the skylight.

  "Is there much?" asked the captain, rising and taking down a smalltelescope, from the hook on which it usually hung.

  "Not much, sir--only a stream; but there is an ice blink right ahead,all along the horizon."

  "How's her head, Mr Bolton?"

  "Nor'-west and by north, sir."

  Before this brief conversation came to a close, Fred Ellice and TomSingleton sprang up the companion, and stood on the deck gazing aheadwith feelings of the deepest interest. Both youths were well read inthe history of polar seas and regions; they were well acquainted, byname at least, with floes, and bergs, and hummocks of ice, but neitherof them had seen such in reality. These objects were associated intheir young minds with all that was romantic and wild, hyperborean andpolar, brilliant and sparkling, and light and white--emphatically_white_. To behold ic
e actually floating on the salt sea was anincident of note in their existence; and certainly the impressions oftheir first day in the ice remained sharp, vivid and prominent, longafter scenes of a much more striking nature had faded from the tabletsof their memories.

  At first the prospect that met their ardent gaze was not calculated toexcite excessive admiration. There were only a few masses of low icefloating about in various directions. The wind was steady, but light,and seemed as if it would speedily fall altogether. Gradually the_blink_ on the horizon (as the light haze always distinguishable aboveice, or snow-covered land, is called) resolved itself into a long whiteline of ice, which seemed to grow larger as the ship neared it, and inabout two hours more they were fairly in the midst of the pack, whichwas fortunately loose enough to admit of the vessel being navigatedthrough the channels of open water. Soon after, the sun broke out incloudless splendour, and the wind fell entirely, leaving the ocean in adead calm.

  "Let's go to the fore-top, Tom," said Fred, seizing his friend by thearm, and hastening to the shrouds.

  In a few seconds they were seated alone on the little platform at thetop of the fore-mast, just where it is connected with the fore-top-mast,and from this elevated position they gazed in silent delight upon thefairy-like scene.

  Those who have never stood at the mast-head of a ship at sea, in a deadcalm, cannot comprehend the feeling of intense solitude, that fills themind in such a position. There is nothing analogous to it on land. Tostand on the summit of a tower and look down on the busy multitude belowis not the same, for there the sounds are quite different in _tone_, andsigns of life are visible all over the distant country, while cries fromafar reach the ear, as well as those from below. But from the mast-headyou hear only the few subdued sounds under your feet--all beyond issilence; you behold only the small oval-shaped platform that is yourworld--beyond lies the calm, desolate ocean. On deck you cannot realisethis feeling, for there sails and yards tower above you, and masts, andboats, and cordage, intercept your view; but from above you _take in_the intense minuteness of your home at a single glance--you stand aside,as it were, and, in some measure, comprehend the insignificance of the_thing_ to which you have committed your life.

  The scene witnessed by our friends at the mast-head of the _Dolphin_ onthis occasion was surpassingly beautiful. Far as the eye could stretch,the sea was covered with islands and fields of ice of every conceivableshape. Some rose in little peaks and pinnacles, some floated in theform of arches and domes, some were broken and rugged, like the ruins ofold border strongholds, while others were flat and level, like fields ofwhite marble; and so calm was it that the ocean in which they floatedseemed like a groundwork of polished steel, in which the sun shone withdazzling brilliancy. The tops of the icy islets were pure white, andthe sides of the higher ones of a delicate blue colour, which gave tothe scene a transparent lightness that rendered it pre-eminentlyfairy-like.

  "It far surpasses anything I ever conceived," ejaculated Singleton aftera long silence. "No wonder that authors speak of scenes beingindescribable. Does it not seem like a dream, Fred?"

  "Tom," said Fred earnestly, "I've been trying to fancy myself in anotherworld, and I have almost succeeded. When I look long and intensely atthe ice, I get almost to believe that these are streets, and palaces,and cathedrals. I never felt so strong a desire to have wings, that Imight fly from one island to another, and go floating in and out, andround about, those blue caves and sparkling pinnacles."

  "It's a curious fancy, Fred, but not unnatural."

  "Tom," said Fred, after another long silence, "has not the thoughtoccurred to you that God made it all?"

  "Some such thought did cross my mind, Fred, for a moment, but it soonpassed away. Is it not _very_ strange that the idea of the Creator isso seldom, and so slightly, connected with his works in our minds?"

  Again there was a long silence. Both youths had a desire to continuethe conversation, and yet each felt an unaccountable reluctance to renewit. Neither of them distinctly understood that the natural heart isenmity against God, and that, until he is converted by the Holy Spirit,man neither loves to think of his Maker, nor to speak of him.

  While they sat thus musing, a breeze dimmed the surface of the sea, andthe _Dolphin_, which had hitherto lain motionless in one of the numerouscanals, began slowly to advance between the islands of ice. The breezefreshened, and rendered it impossible to avoid an occasional collisionwith the floating masses; but the good ship was well armed for thefight, and, although she quivered under the blows, and once or twicerecoiled, she pushed her way through the pack gallantly. In the courseof an hour or two they were once more in comparatively clear water.

  Suddenly there came a cry from the crow's-nest: "There she blows!"

  Instantly every man in the ship sprang to his feet as if he had receivedan electric shock.

  "Where away?" shouted the captain.

  "On the lee-bow, sir," replied the look-out.

  From a state of comparative quiet and repose the ship was now throwninto a condition of the utmost animation, and, apparently, unmeaningconfusion. The sight of a whale acted on the spirits of the men likewild-fire.

  "There she blows!" sang out the man at the mast-head again.

  "Are we keeping right for her!" asked the captain.

  "Keep her away a bit; steady!" replied the look-out.

  "Steady it is!" answered the man at the wheel.

  "Call all hands and get the boats out, Mr Bolton," said the captain.

  "All hands ahoy!" shouted the mate in a tempestuous voice, while the menrushed to their respective stations. "Boat-steerers, get your boatsready."

  "Ay, ay, sir!"

  "There go flukes!" cried the look-out as the whale dived and tossed itsflukes, that is its tail, in the air, not more than a mile on thelee-bow; "she's heading right for the ship."

  "Down with the helm!" roared the captain. "Mr Bolton, brace up themizzen top-sail! Hoist and swing the boats! Lower away!"

  In another moment three boats struck the water, and their respectivecrews tumbled tumultuously into them. Fred and Singleton sprang intothe stern-sheets of the captain's boat, just as it pushed off, and inless than five minutes the three boats were bounding over the sea in thedirection of the whale like race-horses. Every man did his best, andthe tough oars bent like hoops as each boat's crew strove to outstripthe others.