CHAPTER TWO.
AT SEA--THE FIRST STORM.
It is now hundreds of years since the North polar regions began toattract general attention. Men have long felt very inquisitive aboutthat part of the earth, and many good ships, many noble lives have beenlost in trying to force a passage through the ice that encumbers theArctic seas, summer and winter. Britain has done more than othernations in the cause of discovery within the Arctic circle. The lastand greatest of her Arctic heroes perished there--the famous Sir JohnFranklin.
Were I writing a history of those regions I would have much to say ofother countries as well as of our own. But such is not my object inthis book. I mean simply to follow in the wake of one of Britain'sadventurous discoverers, and thus give the reader an idea of thefortunes of those gallant men who risk life and limb for the sake ofobtaining knowledge of distant lands.
There have always been restless spirits in this country. There haveever been men who, when boys, were full of mischief, and who could"settle to nothing" when they grew up. Lucky for us, lucky for theworld, that such is the case! Many of our "restless spirits," as wecall them, have turned out to be our heroes, our discoverers, ourgreatest men. No doubt many of them have become our drones, oursharpers, our blacklegs. But that is just saying that some men aregood, while others are bad--no blame is due to what is called therestlessness of spirit. Our restless men, if good, find rest in action;in bold energetic toil; if bad, they find rest, alas! in untimelygraves.
Captain Harvey was one of our restless spirits. He had a deeply learnedfriend who said to him one day that he felt sure "_there was a sea ofopen water round the North Pole_!" Hundreds of ships had tried to reachthat pole without success, because they always found a barrier of thickice raised against them. This friend said that if a ship could only cutor force its way through the ice to a certain latitude north, open waterwould be found. Captain Harvey was much interested in this. He couldnot rest until he had proved it. He had plenty of money, so had hisfriend. They resolved to buy a vessel and send it to the seas lyingwithin the Arctic circle. Other rich friends helped them; a brig wasbought, it was named the _Hope_, and, as we have seen in the lastchapter, it finally set sail under command of Captain Harvey.
Many days and nights passed, and the _Hope_ kept her course steadilytoward the coast of North America. Greenland was the first land theyhoped to see. Baffin's Bay was the strait through which they hoped toreach the open polar sea.
The _Hope_ left England as a whaler, with all the boats, lances,harpoons, lines, and other apparatus used in the whale fishery. It wasintended that she should do a little business in that way if CaptainHarvey thought it advisable, but the discovery of new lands and seas wastheir chief end and aim.
At first the weather was fine, the wind fair, and the voyage prosperous.But one night there came a deep calm. Not a breath of air moved overthe sea, which was as clear and polished as a looking-glass. Thecaptain walked the deck with the surgeon of the ship, a nephew of hisown, named Gregory.
Tom Gregory was a youth of about nineteen, who had not passed throughthe whole course of a doctor's education, but who was a clever fellow,and better able to cut and carve and physic poor suffering humanity thanmany an older man who wrote M.D. after his name. He was a fine,handsome, strapping fellow, with a determined manner and a kind heart.He was able to pull an oar with the best man aboard, and could evensteer the brig in fine weather, if need be. He was hearty and romantic,and a great favourite with the men. He, too, was a restless spirit. Hehad grown tired of college life, and had made up his mind to take ayear's run into the Polar regions, by way of improving his knowledge ofthe "outlandish" parts of the world.
"I don't like the look of the sky to-day, Tom," said the captain,glancing at the horizon and then at the sails.
"Indeed!" said Tom, in surprise. "It seems to me the most beautifulafternoon we have had since the voyage began. But I suppose you seamenare learned in signs which we landsmen do not understand."
"Perhaps we are," replied the captain; "but it does not require muchknowledge of the weather to say that such a dead calm as this, and suchunusual heat, is not likely to end in a gentle breeze."
"You don't object to a stiff breeze, uncle?" said the youth.
"No, Tom; but I don't like a storm, because it does us no good, and maydo us harm."
"Storms do you no good, uncle!" cried Tom; "how can you say so? Why,what is it that makes our sailors such trumps? The British tar wouldnot be able to face danger as he does if there were no storms."
"True, Tom, but the British tar would not require to face danger at allif there were no storms. What says the barometer, Mr Mansell?" saidthe captain, looking down the skylight into the cabin, where the firstmate--a middle-sized man of thirty-five, or thereabouts--was seated atthe table writing up the ship's log-book.
"The glass has gone down an inch, sir, and is still falling," answeredthe mate.
"Reef the topsail, Mr Dicey," cried the captain, on hearing this.
"Why such haste?" inquired Gregory.
"Because such a sudden fall in the barometer is a sure sign ofapproaching bad weather," answered the captain.
The first man on the shrouds and out upon the main-topsail yard was SamBaker, whose active movements and hearty manner showed that he had quiterecovered his health without the use of physic. He was quickly followedby some of his shipmates, all of whom were picked men--able in body andready for anything.
In a few minutes sail was reduced. Soon after that clouds began to riseon the horizon and spread over the sky. Before half an hour had passedthe breeze came--came far stronger than had been expected--and the orderto take in sail had to be repeated. Baker was first again. He wasclosely followed by Joe Davis and Jim Croft, both of them sturdyfellows--good specimens of the British seaman. Davy Butts, who camenext, was not so good a specimen. He was nearly six feet high, verythin and loosely put together, like a piece of bad furniture. But hisbones were big, and he was stronger than he looked. He would not haveformed one of such a crew had he not been a good man. The rest of thecrew, of whom there were eighteen, not including the officers, were ofall shapes, sizes, and complexions.
The sails had scarcely been taken in when the storm burst on the brig inall its fury. The waves rose like mountains and followed after her, asif they were eager to swallow her up. The sky grew dark overhead as thenight closed in, the wind shrieked through the rigging, and the rag ofcanvas that they ventured to hoist seemed about to burst away from theyard. It was an awful night. Such a night as causes even reckless mento feel how helpless they are--how dependent on the arm of God. Thegale steadily increased until near midnight, when it blew a perfecthurricane.
"It's a dirty night," observed the captain, to the second mate, as thelatter came on deck to relieve the watch.
"It is, sir," replied Mr Dicey, as coolly as if he were about to sitdown to a good dinner on shore. Mr Dicey was a remarkablymatter-of-fact man. He looked upon a storm as he looked upon a fit ofthe toothache--a thing that had to be endured, and was not worth makinga fuss about.
"It won't last long," said the captain.
"No, sir; it won't," answered Mr Dicey.
As Mr Dicey did not seem inclined to say more, the captain went belowand flung himself on a locker, having given orders that he should becalled if any change for the worse took place in the weather. Soonafterward a tremendous sea rose high over the stern, and part of it fellon the deck with a terrible crash, washing Mr Dicey into thelee-scuppers, and almost sweeping him overboard. On regaining his feet,and his position beside the wheel, the second mate shook himself andconsidered whether he ought to call the captain. Having meditated sometime, he concluded that the weather was no worse, although it hadtreated him very roughly, so he did not disturb the captain's repose.
Thus the storm raged all that night. It tossed the _Hope_ about like acork; it well-nigh blew the sails off the masts, and almost blew MrDicey's head off his shoulders!
then it stopped as it had begun--suddenly.
Fast in the Ice: Adventures in the Polar Regions Page 2
