Wild Adventures in Wild Places

by Burt L. Standish

midnight.

  The storm abated; in twelve hours the ice had ceased to rise and fall,and a silence, deep as death, reigned once more over the frozen sea.

  "We must do the best we can," said brave Captain Anderson, "to amuseourselves and each other. God only knows when we may get clear, but wecan trust in Him who rules the sea as well as the dry land."

  "Amen!" said Chisholm, in a quiet and earnest voice.

  "We'll make off skins now for a week or two," said the captain; "thatwill help to pass the time."

  So it did, reader, and it also brought the birds around them inmillions. These, as usual, they shot for feathers and fresh meat.Bears in twos, and sometimes in threes, prowled round the ship to pickup the offal. Ugly customers they looked, and ugly customers they were.Poor Tom Reid, the cooper's mate, sat on a bit of ice one day smoking,not far from the ship. A monster bear crept round a corner and clawedhis heart and lungs out with one stroke of his mighty paw. Thecarpenter and captain were both on the ice one day, when they weresuddenly confronted with the man-eater. They had no arms, and wouldhave been instantly killed had not the danger been perceived by FredFreeman; he fired from the deck of the _Grampus_, wounded the bear, andsaved their lives. After this it was determined to hunt and kill thebears, and many good skins were thus procured. One day Fred surprisedthe man-eater in a corner, licking his wounded foot. The bear bellowedlike a bull, and prepared to spring. Fred was too fast for him, androlled him over at ten paces distance. Poor Fred! he did not see thatthis bear had a companion within hail, and that he was coming up fastand furiously and intent on revenge, not fifty yards away. Men arebehind him, but they fear to fire, lest they kill Fred. Chisholm is onan adjoining floe, but the warning he shouts comes all too late; fornext moment his poor friend lies helpless and bleeding in the talons ofthe terrible ice-king. Chisholm kneels to fire. It is a fearful risk,but it is Fred's only chance. The sound of the rifle rings out on thesilent air, the bear quits his victim, springs upwards with a convulsivestart, then falls dead beside the man he would have slain. It is threeweeks ere Fred can crawl again.

  Meanwhile the whole of the skins have been "made off." [The seal-skins,with blubber about three inches thick, are spread on boards on idle daysin Greenland ships, and the fat pared off. The skins are then rubbed insalt and stowed away in a tank; the blubber also is put in tanks byitself. This is called "off."] There are no more bits of flesh and fatthrown overboard, so the birds all leave them, then the bears; and,except that a wondering seal sometimes lifts its black head for a momentout of a pool of water to stare at the ship, there is no sign or soundof animal life on all the dreary pack. They feel more lonely now thanever, but they play games on the ice and games on board, and they readmuch and talk a great deal about home. This last makes them feel thetime still more long and monotonous, but one day--

  "Happy thought!" says Fred, "let us get up theatricals."

  Well, this passed the time away pleasantly enough for a whole month, butthey tired at last even of theatricals; and then a dense fog rolled infrom the south and the west, and enveloped the whole pack as with a darkpall. They saw no more of the sun for two weary months, but they knewhe _set_ now, and that the order of day and night had been restored; butalas! they knew likewise that it would, in a few weeks more, be all onelong night, and their hearts sank at the very thoughts of it.

  The mist rolled away at last, but shorter and shorter grew the days andcolder and colder the weather. I hesitated before I wrote that lastword "weather," for really in that ice-pack there was no weather. Nevera cloud in the blue vault of heaven, and never a breath of wind--noteven as much as would suffice to raise one feathery flake of the starrysnow. But the silence--it was a silence that was felt at the heart; youcould have heard a whisper almost a mile away, there was nothing tobreak it. Nature seemed asleep, and all things seemed to fear to wakeher. No wonder that poor Frank said one day, as he closed his book--

  "Heigho! boys, it is _such_ a treat to hear the clock tick."

  Night was the most trying, cheerless time; for after they had turnedinto their box-like bunks, they would lie for hours before it waspossible to get warm. Then in the morning each bunk looked like alittle cave of snow, the breath of the occupant during the night havingbeen frozen into hoar-frost, which covered the sides and the top, andlay half-an-inch thick on the coverlet. It was, indeed, a dreary time.

  CHAPTER SIX.

  WINTER IN THE ICE-FIELDS--THE ICE BREAKS UP--SAILING SOUTH--A SLEDGEADVENTURE--THE STORM AND SHIPWRECK--AFLOAT ON AN ICEBERG--LAND! LAND!--A TERRIBLE JOURNEY--CRONSTADT.

  Was it always so silent and still in that lonely ice-pack as I havetried to describe it? Not always: there were times when the floesaround the ship began to move slowly up and down, telling of a swellbeneath them; then the rending, shrieking, and groaning noises wereindescribable. But only twice during the months of darkness did abreeze blow, and, when it did, snow fell, or rather was borne along onthe wings of the wind, with a fierce bitterness that no living beingcould be exposed to for an hour and live. A snow-house was built overthe decks, and this served in some slight measure to mitigate theterrible cold.

  And so the winter wore away, for the longest time has an end. Ourheroes had borne their privations and their deprivations nobly. Theydid not even let down their hearts when the captain told them they wouldhave to go on "short commons," and only laughed when the stewardreported the eggs finished, and the last potato vanished. The biscuitsheld out, however, and the soup in bouilli, so they rejoicedaccordingly, and were thankful.

  But when the sun showed face one day, there were no bounds to the joythat every one on board manifested. They even manned the rigging, andgave him three times three heartfelt cheers. Even Rouskia, the ship'sdog, seemed glad to see the light of day again, and joined in thecheering with a kind of half hysterical bark, as if the tears were inhis throat and partially stopped his utterance. The sun did not stop tolook at them long, but, like an invalid in the stage of convalescence,he stayed up longer and longer every day, and his presence soon began towork a change in the appearance of the ice; the snow on the top of itbecame less dry, and the cold to a large extent left the air. Then theice began to float farther apart, and, on taking the reckoning one day,the captain found, to his joy, that the whole pack was moving slowlysouthwards.

  After many days the _Grampus_ left her harbour, and began "boring" herway through the ice. It was slow, tedious work; but slow as it was theywere homeward bound, so there was happiness at the hearts of all onboard. But their hopes of escape were doomed to be blighted; for onceagain the light wind which had begun to blow from the gentle south fellto a dead calm, winter once more resumed his sway, and the good ship_Grampus_ was beset a second time. Although the ice was not heavy, buthummock-covered or flat, it was dangerous enough in all conscience.

  One day they were surprised by a visit from some natives, with sledgesdrawn by dogs. They brought fish with them, and the carcase of areindeer, and begged, in their strange but musical labial language, forblankets and tobacco. They came from land that was visible on thestarboard bow, and this country, or island, or whatever it was, Chisholmbegged leave of the captain to be allowed, with his friends, to visit.

  "It must be at your own risk, then, gentlemen," the captain replied;"for, although we are most likely to lie here for six weeks to come, theice may break up at any moment."

  But our heroes did risk it. They packed a sledge with many things whichthey knew the natives would appreciate, and off they started, thecaptain waving his hand and wishing them luck. It was more pleasant torun for a little way on first starting; but having by this meanssucceeded in starting the circulation of the blood, as Chisholm phrasedit, they handed the whips to the natives, and squatted on the tops ofthe curious and primitive sledges.

  They found the Esquimaux very friendly, and willing to barter. Theirhuts were mere mole-hills, and far from cleanly inside, and were builtwith no attempt at architecture; but they were strong,
nevertheless.The only kind of religion these people had was a kind of sun worship.They were expert in hunting and fishing, and very brave and daring.Chisholm soon found that he could accomplish the journey from the shipto the village of Redinvolsk in an hour; so he started a sledge, drawnby two dogs, and, great though the risk was, went on shore almost everyday. But these little trips of his had a sad and all but fatal ending.His team one day took fright, and, instead of running directly for thevillage, dashed over a precipice. Half-way down the crevasse the sledgewas brought up by a snow-covered shelf of rock. But kindly aid was athand, a rope was lowered by some friendly natives, and a sheathed knife.With the latter he cut the poor plunging dogs adrift, sorry in hismanly heart that he had to leave them to their fate. He was then drawnto bank much bruised and shaken, but thankful to escape with life.

  One morning clouds