CHAPTER SIX.
DECEPTIVE APPEARANCES--PERPETUAL DAY--PERPLEXITIES ABOUT BED-TIME--CONFUSION OF MIND.
The scene is changed. We are on board the _Snowflake_ and out once moreamong the thousands of islands off the coast far beyond the ArcticCircle now.
This is the region where the sun does not set night or day for severalweeks in summer, and where he never rises night or day during severalweeks in winter. But Fred Temple has not gained his point yet. He isbehind time. Had he arrived at this latitude a week sooner, he wouldhave seen the sun sweep an entire circle in the sky. But calms havedelayed him, and now the sun just dips below the horizon at midnight. Agood stiff, southerly breeze of a few hours would take him far enoughnorth; but he cannot command the winds to blow, although Bob Bowie, thesteward, evidently thinks he can make it blow by whistling! The sea islike a sheet of glass. Meanwhile, Fred and his friends are enjoying allthe delight of daylight which is perpetual. Every thoughtful readerwill at once perceive that where the sun only sets for a few minutesthere can be no diminution of the light worth speaking of--nothingapproaching even to twilight. The night before the arrival of the yachtat this place the sun set a little after midnight, and in twenty minutesafterwards it rose again to pursue its brilliant course through thenorthern sky.
It is scarcely possible for a Christian to look on such a scene withoutrecalling those striking passages in God's Word, which, in describingheaven, tell us that "there shall be no night there," and speaks of a"sea of glass like unto crystal," before the throne of God. Well maythe heart of man in such a scene exclaim with the Psalmist, "O Lord, howmanifold are Thy works! In wisdom hast Thou made them all: the earth isfull of Thy riches."
The islands in this particular place were positively uncountable. Theylay scattered over the calm sea in hundreds. Some were no bigger than aboat--others were towering jagged mountains of more than four thousandfeet high. Most of them were barren, and over the smaller islets, aswell as round the cliffs of the larger ones, myriads of gulls and othersea-birds flew with clamorous cries. But for this, the scene would havebeen one of deep solitude as well as intense calmness. The sea-birds,however, filled the air with life, ay, and with melody, for theplaintive cry of wild-fowl when mellowed by distance is inexpressiblysweet and agreeable.
One thing that puzzled our voyagers very much was the deceptiveappearance of land, so that they found it extremely difficult to judgecorrectly of distance. On one occasion, when sailing towards one of thelarge islands, Fred went up to Bob Bowie, who was leaning over the sidewatching the ripples caused by the _Snowflake_, and meditating, as hehimself said, "on things in gin'ral, and nothin' in particular." It maybe remarked in passing that this was not an uncommon state of mind withBob Bowie.
"Well, Bob," said Temple, "we're going along nicely with this breeze. Iexpect we shall pass that island before many hours go by."
"How far d'ye think it's off, sir?" inquired the steward.
"About three miles," said Fred.
"Three miles, sir, w'y, it's not more than one mile--if it's that."
"What say you, Captain?" asked Fred.
"Ye better try," suggested McNab, with a quiet grin.
"So I will, ho! stand by to heave the log there. Now, Captain, steerstraight as the crow flies for the island."
The yacht's course was altered, the log was hove, and, observing themoment of starting, they awaited the result. Bob thought it was asmallish island with little bushes on it. The time they took in drawingnear to it first led him to doubt the correctness of his own opinion.But when the bushes began to turn into trees, and the cliffs to towerinto the sky above his head, and throw a dark shadow over the vessel, hewas obliged to give in. The distance which he had imagined was not morethan one mile turned out to be _five_.
On another occasion a similar case of the deceptive appearance ofdistance occurred. They were sailing up a certain fiord, which most ofthe people on board supposed was only about a mile broad. One of thesailors, Bill by name, insisted that it could not be more thanthree-quarters of a mile; and thereupon an animated discussion,amounting almost to a dispute, began. But Bill was not to be put down."He was an old salt. _He_ wasn't to be taken in by these molehills, nothe!" He had sailed round the world, according to his own account hadbeen shipwrecked half a dozen times, and drowned once or twice, besidesbeing murdered occasionally; so he thought himself a weighty authority,and entitled to great respect!
Well, to settle this point the yacht was sailed straight across thefiord, and the breadth, measured by the log, was found, as in the formercase, to be about five miles.
The calms, although frequent in this latitude, did not last long. Lightbreezes sprang up now and then, and for several days carried ourtravellers to the north. But not fast enough, for the sun still keptahead of them. During this period, they saw great variety of wonderfulscenery, had several small adventures, and enjoyed themselves extremely.
Fred Temple usually began each calm day by jumping out of bed, rushingupon deck and going over the side, head-foremost into the water. He wasgenerally followed by Sam Sorrel; but Sam was inclined to be lazy, anddid not always follow his friend's lead. Grant never followed it. Hewas inveterately lazy in the morning, although at all other times he wasas active as a mountain goat.
Our Highlander was particularly successful about this time with his gun.The number of birds that he shot and stuffed was enormous. Whenever acalm prevailed, he took the light little Norse boat that had beenpurchased at Bergen, and went off to the nearest island with his gun.On these occasions he was usually accompanied by Sam, whose love forsketching was quite equal to that of his companion for bird-shooting andstuffing. Fred, of course went to keep them company, and was wont tocarry with him a rod, as well as a gun, for he was passionately fond offishing. On these occasions, too, they took Hans Ericsson with them, toassist in rowing, and to pilot them when they felt inclined to leave theyacht out of sight behind.
One day they were out on an excursion of this kind, and had rowedtowards the mainland, and up a fiord. Fred and Sam were reclining inthe stern of the boat; the former smoking a meerschaum pipe, the lattermaking a drawing of a range of hills which were so rugged that the topsappeared like the teeth of a saw. Grant and Hans were rowing.
"Do you know what o'clock it was when we left the yacht?" inquired Fred.
"What o'clock?" echoed Sam; "no; well, let me see. We went to bed lastnight at five o'clock this morning."
"You mean that we turned in for our _night's rest_ at five this morning,I suppose," said Temple.
"My dear Fred," retorted Sam, "never mind what I mean; only attend towhat I say. Don't be too particular. It's a bad habit being tooparticular. I once had a friend who was too particular in hisattentions to a young lady, and the result was that he was obliged tomarry her."
"Then, Sam," returned Temple, "I should say that the habit of being tooparticular is a good one, if it leads to such a good thing as marriage.But to return to the point, what time of day or night do you think it is_now_?"
"Have not the least idea," said Sam; "I think it's some time or other inthe evening, but this perpetual daylight confuses me. You know thatwhen you and Grant were away last week after the gulls, I went to bed onThursday forenoon at ten o'clock by mistake, thinking it was ten atnight. How I ever came to do it I can't tell, but I suppose that I hadsat so long stuffing that great eagle for Grant that my brains had gotobfuscated. It was cloudy, too (not unlike what it is just now), sothat I could not see the sun. Whatever was the cause, there is no doubtof the fact that I lost a day somehow, and my ideas have got such atwist that I fear they will never recover it."
"A most unfortunate state of things, truly," said Fred, laughing."Perhaps you'll recover when we return to low latitudes. If not, thereare plenty lunatic asylums. But we must not spend more than a few hourslonger on this excursion, for I've a notion that we are somewhere aboutSaturday just now, and you know it's against our rules to run the ri
skof shooting or fishing into Sunday."
"Very true," replied Sam, as he continued his sketch. "I say, Grant, doyou happen to have your watch with you?"
"Not I," cried Grant from the bow of the boat. "Since day and nighttook to being the same I let it run down. I have no regard for timenow."
"D'ye know what day it is?"
"No."
"Humph, it's lucky that we can depend upon the Captain for keeping usright in regard to Sunday. Well, let's go ashore and try the mouth ofyonder stream. I'll warrant me there are sea-trout there, perhapssalmon, and the ground hereabouts seems a likely place for grouse andptarmigan. Pull hard, Hans, thou son of Eric, and shove the boat intoyonder creek."
Hans Ericsson bent his strong back, and a bright smile crossed hissunburnt face as the head of the boat flew round.
"Hallo, Hans! steady, my lad!" cried Grant, giving his oar a pull thatsent the head of the boat spinning round in the opposite direction.Then the sturdy Norseman and the stalwart Scot gave a pull together withall their might, and sent the boat like an arrow into the creek, where,in a few seconds, her keel grated on the shore.
For several hours after that the three friends were busy with theirfavourite pursuits. Grant soon bagged several brace of grouse. Fredcaught a basket of splendid sea-trout, some of which were over threepounds' weight, and a small salmon of about ten pounds; while Sam Sorrelsat down on a rock and painted an elaborate picture of the scenery. Ofcourse their different occupations separated them from each other, butHans kept close to Fred's elbow--for he had not only conceived a strongfriendship for the young Englishman, but he was immensely delighted withfly-fishing, which he had never before witnessed. The astonishment ofHans was great when he beheld heavy trout landed by means of a slenderrod and an almost invisible line. But when Fred hooked the salmon theexcitement of the Norseman knew no bounds. After nearly half an hour'splaying of the fish, Fred drew it close to the bank, and told Hans tostrike the gaff-hook into it, and lift it out of the water. Hans in hisexcitement missed his aim, and the terrified fish darted away. But Fredwas prepared for this, and let out line. Soon he brought his fish oncemore to the side, exhausted and rolling over. Hans made a secondattempt and was successful in landing the silvery salmon on the bank.
When they returned to the schooner after that excursion, Captain McNabwas leaning over the side with a grim smile on his wooden countenance.Bob Bowie was beside him with a beaming smile on his jolly red face.
"Good-day, Captain," cried Fred, as the boat drew near. "Well, Bowie,we're desperately hungry, I hope you've got supper ready for us."
"I've got breakfast, sir," replied the steward.
"Eh? ah! well, call it what you like, only let us have it soon." (Theyclambered up the side.) "Why, Captain, what day is it, and what time ofday?"
"It's Friday mornin', sir, and eight o'clock."
Fred opened his eyes in astonishment.
"Why, then, comrades, it seems that we have been shooting, sketching,and fishing all night by daylight, and the sun has set and risen againwithout our being aware of the fact! So much for perpetual day and acloudy sky. Come, Bob Bowie, look alive with break--, ah! supper, Imean, for whatever it may be to you, it is supper to us. Meanwhile,I'll have a bathe to refresh me."
So our hardy adventurers bathed that morning, over the side, then theysupped, after which they turned in and slept all day, and rose again atsix o'clock in the evening to breakfast!
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