There was plenty of floating ice in the open water running rapidly northward; but the task of avoiding this was easy, for the engineer had followed out the captain’s instructions, and there was a sufficiency of steam for navigating the vessel.
It was needed, too; for though they had escaped from the terrible trap in which they had been caught, the peril was not far away. A few minutes’ observation showed that the great body of ice was closing in upon the land, and that if before long the Hvalross was not placed in a safe anchorage she would certainly be crushed, the only difference being that she would be crushed between ice-floe and rock, and not between ice and ice, the doctor saying that they would have jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire.
There was the danger still coming on as they steamed northward between the moving ice and the perpendicular cliffs of the great headland on their right. But the fires were humming and roaring away below, the rattle of stoking implements and shovel was heard on the iron stoke-hole floor; and as the engine worked and panted away, and the propeller shaft made the after part of the vessel thrill, there were divers hissings and snorts which told that there would soon be plenty of steam for the captain’s purpose, as he stood on the bridge with his binocular scanning the opening on the right to see if it would give them the security he sought.
“Up aloft again, Johannes!” he cried. “Take a glass and see if you can con a way round and through those rocks.”
Steve started, and took a step forward; but the captain shook his head.
“Not this time,” he said.
The boy shrank back feeling disappointed, for this observing from the crow’s-nest seemed to have become partly his work; but he said nothing, for he felt that he had not distinguished himself very highly aloft upon two occasions, so he contented himself with watching the grand coast they had reached. He gazed at the towering cliffs a couple of hundred yards upon his right, streaked in every crevice with snow, which crossed these streaks again, lying as it did upon every ledge, and forming a gigantic network on the black rock. Higher up the streaking and netting ceased, for the rocks were not so perpendicular; and here they were coated with dazzling ice.
The sea-birds circled about the vessel by hundreds, while thousands must have been seated in rows upon the ledges, from which, as they came and went, throwing themselves off as if diving into the air, and taking a flight before resettling, they disturbed the newly-fallen, powdery snow, which fell in showers, glittering in the brilliant sunshine like diamond dust, and at times forming tiny rainbows, which came and went as the Hvalross glided on.
“We shall not starve here, Steve, in spite of the cold,” said the doctor, who now joined him. “This must be nesting time, and the storm has disturbed the birds and invaded their nests. How grand it all seems now one can look around without feeling one’s heart in one’s mouth, and thinking that the next minute may be our last!”
“Then you felt frightened, too?” said Steve.
“Frightened? Why, my good lad, do you think any one could face peril like that we have gone through without feeling frightened?”
“I should have thought brave men would.”
“I should like to see the man who could pass through what we did unmoved. Perhaps I’m wrong, my boy, but I don’t think he has been born yet. There, don’t let’s talk about it. Come and watch the man heaving the lead.”
They went forward to where Andrew was standing in the forechains busy with the lead, casting it from time to time, for there were rocks all about the entrance of the inlet or fiord they were making for; but the lead always went down and down into deep water, and was rapidly hauled up again, for all that was wanted was to know whether there was sufficient depth for the vessel to pass along in safety.
“We’re getting a lesson in arctic navigation, Steve,” said the doctor quietly. “People who sit at home at ease, as the song says, little know how difficult it is.”
“Ah! they don’t know, indeed,” said Steve. “Any one would think that all we had to do was to steam right on till we were opposite the fiord, and then turn to the right and go in at once.”
“Which does not sound very nautical, Master Steve, and would result most likely in landing the vessel upon the rocks. Water cold, Andra?” to the man, as he hauled in the lead.
“Ferry, sir, ferry cauld inteet. She feels as if she hadna got any fingers left. But it’s a coot chop to do when she tidna know her way.”
“Keep heaving more quickly!” cried the captain; and he then signalled to the engine-room for more speed, while the Norsemen in the bows went on fending off the pieces of ice through which they were now passing, the surface being quite white with fragments.
The next moment there was a horrible crashing noise from astern, and fresh orders were sent down into the engine-room, the gong sounding quite faintly now.
“Whatever is that?” whispered the doctor. “Are we on a rock?”
“No; the propeller is beating on the pieces of ice. We must go softly, or one of the blades will be broken.”
In fact, the speed was checked so that the propeller was kept barely in motion, just sufficient to give the vessel steering way, and all the time a glance to the left showed that the ice-floe was closing in upon them fast, while they were some distance yet from the opening.
Meantime, Johannes hailed the deck from time to time, enabling the captain to direct the man at the wheel, so as to avoid dangerous rocks, invisible from the bridge, but quite plain from the commanding height aloft.
And thus the position was growing to be one of extreme peril once more, and it became evident to those who, as non-combatants in this fight with the grand forces of Nature, could only look on, that, unless the captain risked the breaking of the propeller, they would be crushed by the ice against the rocks and rendered a hopeless wreck long before they could round the southern point of the fiord. Even if they could reach the inlet, it might prove to be so encumbered with rocks that they could not enter; but it was their only hope now.
Fortunately the current ran swiftly, and as the ice neared more swiftly still, and just when the position was growing most perilous, the surface became clear of floating fragments, such as would injure the screw.
Steve’s heart was sinking again, for the great ice wall was getting very close, and he had given many looks at the huge cliff to see whether it would be possible to climb up, when once more the sinking spirits rose with a bound, for, in the nick of time, Johannes shouted, “All clear ahead!” the gong sent forth its notes to order full speed, and the water was churned into a foam as the propeller began to spin round.
“Stand away with that lead!” shouted the captain; and Andrew coiled up the wet line with a sigh of relief.
“He’s going to risk the rocks now,” whispered Steve.
“Yes; I suppose it’s our only chance,” replied the doctor; and they both went as far forward as they could get to join the Norsemen who were on the look-out for danger.
They had about a quarter of a mile still to go, but now their speed was greater than that of the closing-in ice, and the men at last burst into a cheer as, in obedience to a motion of the captain’s hand, the spokes were spun round, and the Hvalross glided along in a sharp curve right in between two towering walls of rocks facing each other at a distance of some sixty yards. Then the engine was slowed down, and they passed more quietly along a rugged channel which went straight in for a short distance, and then bore sharply round to the left.
They were none too soon, for, long before they reached this curve, the ice-floe touched the headland they had passed, and there arose a crashing roar mingled with thunderous sounds that were deafening. It was as if the huge fields of ice were about to be swept right over the land, and the perpendicular rocks, as they bore the brunt, echoed the terrible volleying noise. The sight was awful in its majesty: one floe ploughed up another, and vast fragments fell over and over, to fall with a crash upon others, or into the waters of the inlet, churning them up as if in some furious tempest, driving billows up against the rocks on either side, and making the Hvalross rock and roll as she sped slowly on. And all the while, driven by the almost irresistible force behind, the ice-floes came on and on, filling up the inlet, and roaring with fury as the vessel they seemed to be pursuing kept still beyond their reach.
The lead was out again and rapidly heaved, but the water kept of a great depth, and the channel was clear of scattered rocks, so that the opening where it bore off to the left was reached with ease, and the Hvalross bore round in answer to her helm, and began once more to make for the north.
Ten minutes later the whole of the inlet that ran so nearly straight in was jammed right up with mountainous masses of ice, which ran right across the angle where they had turned off to the north, and then the ice came on, mounting over that which was below, grinding, crackling, and pressing it solid, deafening the ears of those who listened for a few minutes, and then dying off into a more and more distant sound. This soon grew fainter, heard as it seemed to be from the other side of the cliffs on their left, while the water in the fiord, which had been tremendously agitated, rushing on past the Hvalross and leaving her rolling and the crow’s-nest in which Johannes stood describing a long arc in the air, began to subside, the billows ceased to leap up the cliffs, the loose fragments of ice to eddy and rush together, and the vessel floated upon an even keel.
The peril was at an end, for the floes, after completely choking up the entrance to the fiord to the height of at least fifty feet, were now grinding and crushing their way onward outside, and the vessel lay in perfect safety. But, unless there was a way out at the other end of the fiord, they were completely sealed in by ice that, from all appearances, as it towered up from side to side, seemed as if it would take years to melt, while as likely as not it would go on consolidating and increasing in bulk till time should be no more.
No one spoke, though a strange silence gathered round them, the roar of the ice-floes upon the cliffs of this unknown land sounding hushed and strange. Every eye was fixed upon the dazzling white wall which, with its thousands of tons of ice, had been built in a few minutes right across the opening by which they had entered the now fast calming fiord. For that piled-up mass was indescribably grand as it glistened in the sunshine, every crack and depression being of the most lovely blue, from the palest sapphire to the deepest amethyst. It was magnificent, it was grand; and all started at something which was terribly incongruous; for a great flock of the northern gulls suddenly came sweeping down over the ice into the narrow fiord, shrieking, crying, and uttering sounds which were like mocking laughter, to break the solemnity of the scene.
Worse still, his duties having been interfered with in no way, and too busy to take any note of the fresh peril, the cook suddenly appeared from the galley, whose fire had been roaring away for the past two hours, and, walking under the bridge, he looked up to the captain and said loudly:
“Capital haunch of venison, roasted to a turn, sir. If you are at liberty, you can have the dinner in now.”
The grandeur, the solemnity, the thoughts of this fresh miraculous escape, all passed away on the instant. The men made a movement toward the forecastle, looking inquiringly at the mate, for they knew that their meal would be ready too, and Steve turned to the doctor so comically perplexed a face that the latter smiled.
“Hungry, Steve?” he said.
“I—I didn’t know it before, sir,” he replied; “but I suppose I am.”
“Well, il faut manger, as the French say. Come along.”
He led the way to the bridge, where the cook was still waiting, for the captain had not spoken.
“Can you come down, Marsham?” said the doctor. “It is many hours since we have broken our fast.”
“Eh?” came back. “Yes. Ahoy, there, Johannes! that will do. Come down, Handscombe?” said the captain thoughtfully. “Yes, we may as well have something to eat, for we shall have plenty of time.”
He pointed to the huge rampart of ice right across the inlet, and said quietly:
“A man needs to be well educated in the ways of nature in the north to navigate his ship. Our only hope now is—”
“Let’s talk of that when we have studied nature’s daily wants,” said the doctor, smiling. “We are safe, are we not?”
“Oh yes,” said the captain bitterly, “we are quite safe now.”
As the doctor said, il faut manger, and, in spite of all they had gone through, their appetites were so sharp-set that they made a most hearty repast, and were ready to declare themselves prepared to encounter anything.
Steve thought that this was rather boastful, and due in a great measure to the fact that they all, himself included, felt that, for the present at any rate, they had no danger to encounter, but he said nothing.
In fact, when they returned on deck the noise of the ice had died away into a distant murmur, and the fiord, with its smooth, blue water, huge, nearly perpendicular walls, and shattered rocks of dark stone made brilliant with ice, looked so beautiful that their position appeared to be more a cause of congratulation than complaint. Certainly they were blocked in; but ice that shut them up so quickly might, by another movement, likely enough set them free; and, besides, most of these northern fiords were like those on the Norwegian or Highland coasts—channels inside islands; and consequently, for aught they knew to the contrary, there was a way out to the north which might not be closed.
But the captain had no intention of making a long exploration on that day. He was content to run on a short distance, to anchor in what looked to be a snug berth behind a jutting mass of the rocky side which sheltered them from the north wind in case it should come tearing down the channel, and faced the sunny south. The fires were then raked out, and that night, after the watch was set, those who were free indulged in a long and much-needed sleep.
Steve rose the next morning bright and cheerful, to find the others the same. The intense cold which accompanied the storm had passed, and there in the sheltered fiord the air felt, by comparison with that which they had gone through, quite salutary. The change must have taken place directly they had gone to rest, for the warm sunshine of the night had thawed the icy rigging to a great extent, so that ropes and stays had resumed their customary aspect, and the snow, which had penetrated the furled sails, was coming away in drips.
It was a wonderful and cheery change, and Steve eagerly waited for the captain’s first proceedings in this unknown land—unknown as far as any one there could say.
Watty Links was sunning himself as if in imitation of Skene, who was comfortably basking at the galley door, his head resting upon his paws, and his figure suggesting that he must be on very friendly terms with the cook.
The dog seemed to be fast asleep, but one eye opened a little as Steve approached, and his tail was raised to give three solemn raps on the deck; then, at a word, Skene sprang up, yawned, stretched himself, and followed his master.
Steve gave Watty a word, too; but that gentleman only grunted, and the lad went on to where the men were busy finishing the brushing and scrubbing of the deck.
Here he encountered Mr Lowe, the mate, who had been round the vessel in the dinghy to examine the hull as regarded damages. But she had been too well prepared for her journey into ice-land with a casing of tough wood as a kind of partial outer skin, and this had only been rubbed and channelled a little by the blocks which had tried to plough her sides, so that he had nothing but good to report to the captain, who had been about for an hour looking bright and eager for the long day’s work.
Breaking away from them, Steve joined the Norwegians, who greeted him in their frank, grave way.
“Well, Mr Steve,” said Johannes, “I suppose we shall begin hunting directly; there is plenty of game about. You and I must go and get some eggs from the shelves.”
“Eggs? there’ll be no eggs,” said Steve; “they would all be blown away by the storm. Don’t you know that these sea-birds lay their eggs on the bare stones generally? Oh, but of course you knew that,” he added hurriedly, as it struck him that the Norseman must know ten times as much as he.
“Yes,” said Johannes quietly. “I know that, and I have also noticed how wonderfully they stay on those shelves in spite of the great winds that blow. No doubt many were blown off in the storm; but many would stay.”
“Why, do the sea-birds stick them down tight?”
“No,” said Johannes, smiling. “But you have seen the strange shape of many of the eggs of sea-birds. They are not like those of other fowls.”
“No, they’re thick at one end and very thin at the other, going off quite straight instead of being rounded.”
“That is why they stay on the rocks,” said the Norseman: “when the wind strikes them the light, thin end flies round, and they begin to spin so fast that you can hardly see them turn.”
“That’s curious,” said Steve, who looked hard at Johannes, as if ready to think that the man was telling him a travellers’ tale. But the Norseman was the last man who could be expected to indulge in fiction, and the boy hastened to ask about their prospects.
“We all feel satisfied that this place abounds with game,” said Johannes. “Jakobsen here saw a couple of bears, the seals are plentiful, and we passed yesterday enough of the walrus to feel sure that there must be plenty more.”
“Here, Steve!” cried the captain just then; “breakfast! I am going up the fiord in one of the boats directly after. Do you care to go?”
“Care to go!” cried Steve. “Oh, I say, Captain Marsham, don’t leave me behind in any of your trips.”
The captain did not seem to hear him, but went to where some of the crew were busy now, unfurling and shaking out the jib preparatory to hoisting it to dry, while other men were busy with the stay-sail.
The lads brightened up at the order given, and the result was that an hour later the largest boat, well manned, and prepared for any emergencies in the way of meeting game, from walrus to wild duck, pushed off from the ship’s side, leaving her floating as snugly and as motionless as if in a dock.
The morning was glorious, and as they rowed north the various turnings of the fiord soon shut out all view of the Hvalross. After a while the huge towering cliffs, which had risen up nearly sheer from the water’s edge, began to retire, becoming less precipitous, and leaving a shore which, from being a mere ribbon, rapidly increased till there was a wide stretch of level land on either side, showing patches of green here and there where the snow had melted away; and soon after a narrow valley opened off to the right, but not going far, its upper end being choked by a glacier of great extent.
The men rowed as if glad of the chance to stretch their muscles, and soon after another valley was passed, and again another, but both on the right, the left side of the fiord being formed by a long, rocky and icy ridge, showing no gap whatever or means of getting through it toward the sea.
The valleys they still kept on passing, away east, gave plenty of promise of deer, so that, even if kept prisoners for some time, there did not appear to be any lack of food; but the other side was the more eagerly scanned by the Norsemen, who had the walrus harpoons, ropes, and lances lying ready to hand, and who longed to wield them again.
The party did not attempt to land, but travelled on for miles, and always through plenty of water, passing at last a likely-looking chasm on their left, through which ran a narrow, zigzagging, deep-looking canal; and in the hope that this might prove to be a way through to the west coast, it was left for the time being, while they pushed on for a mile or two farther. Here they came upon an unmistakable passage through a rocky defile, whose bottom was clear, dark water, going right on as far as they could see, while, leaving this too so as to finish the exploration of the main fiord first, they rowed on once more. At last, turning a headland, they came suddenly in view of a magnificent sight from the point of view of a lover of nature, but a terribly damping one to a captain whose ship was caught in a trap; for there, about a mile away, and spreading from side to side of the fiord, whose blue waters touched its foot, was another grand glacier, which looked from the distance like a frozen cataract, flowing down from high up in the mountains, to empty its solid waters into the fiord.
“No way out,” said the captain, after a few minutes’ examination of the great glacier with his glass; and he handed it to the doctor, who was fain to confess that the fiord was sealed up there as effectually as at the other end.
“It’s very grand,” he said with a sigh, “magnificent; but rather a dash to your hopes.”
“Back again!” said the captain, after Steve had had his survey as well, and longed to be rowed close up to the blue ice grottoes he could see at the foot of the glacier, beyond which many peaks towered up while the land was scored with valleys.
The oars dipped again in the blue water, and they rowed back to the rugged defile they had left to explore on their return.
Here the prospects were more cheerful as far as the boat was concerned; and they rowed at once into a chasm which seemed to be one vast rift through the mountain, as if torn open by some convulsion of nature.
There was plenty of room for the boat, and the water looked, from its blackness, of great depth; but there was room for the boat only in places, their oars almost touching the perpendicular rocks on either side, these rising so high that they almost shut out the light. There was a trace of motion, too, in this water, which soon satisfied the captain that it might be possible to pass through to the sea. And so it proved, after about an hour’s winding in and out, for the most part in twilight; for all at once the gloom gave place to a burst of sunshine, which struck in like sheaves of rays of light, and a little farther on the chasm opened out, and they were on the western side of the ridge which had divided them from the sea, while on either hand were rocks, and before them the piled-up masses of ice-floe, evidently a part of the army of floating masses which had been forced up all along the shore. This stopped further progress, and they sat with oars balanced gazing before them at a chaos of ice, where the previous day all had been open water.
At first all looked beautiful, but utterly devoid of life. Only, though, for a short time. Before long something was seen to move a short distance away; and upon the boat being paddled round an intervening block of ice, there was a sight which sent a thrill of excitement through the Norsemen, a feeling which the others shared; for there, in ample supply, they saw that which they had come for one thing to seek—a herd of the arctic sea-horses, offering themselves as a ready aim for the Norsemen’s harpoons and lances, as well as for the rifles of the captain and doctor.
“Will you try for one to-day, sir?” asked Johannes respectfully.
“It would be waste,” replied Captain Marsham. “I do not want to destroy the creatures if we cannot utilise the oil.”
“We can, sir,” said Johannes quietly. “The ship must come up to the other end of the fiord, and we can hunt here and cut up the walrus, and carry the oil out to be boiled down as easily as we could take it elsewhere.”
“Yes, you are right,” said the captain. “But how will you reach the animals?”
“You gentlemen will reach them with your guns,” said the man quietly.
“Stalk them?” said the captain.
“Yes; creep up very cautiously, for they may be shy. Try and get between them and the sea.”
So the boat was rowed close up to the edge of the forced-up ice, and the party landed for their first walrus hunt, Steve shouldering his rifle with the rest.
To stalk or crawl up to an animal within shooting distance upon a level prairie, where there is no sign of bush or tree, not so much as a big clump of grass, is a difficult task which it takes a Red Indian to achieve, with his peculiar powers of creeping along the ground almost like a caterpillar, moving, as it were, upon his crooked fingers and his toes; but out upon a rocky shore, among piled-up masses of ice, many of them big enough to hide a couple of hundred men, the stalking appeared to be simplicity itself, and the three bearers of firearms stepped jauntily along toward the walrus herd, screening themselves behind the masses of ice with more than one slip and stumble.
The scene was brilliant in the extreme, with the sun’s rays darting from the broken fragments so lately deposited by the ice pressure, which was all that remained of the terrible convulsion of nature in which the expedition so nearly came to utter destruction. Saving the cries of the sea-birds and the ripple of the waves on the shore, there was not a sound to be heard. The water had regained its balance, so to speak, and to right and left, as far as they could see, there was a dark, open space of about a quarter of a mile wide on an average between the rugged ice-piled shore and the pack, with comparatively few fragments, flashing with light as they glided along in the now gentle current.
In their passage in the boat through the gloomy chasm the cold had been intense; but a few minutes’ climbing over the ice in the clear sunshine, carrying a heavy rifle and ammunition, resulted in a pause behind a huge mass of piled-up ice, where flat piece after flat piece had been thrust one above the other, and a declaration that it was very hot.
“Hist!” whispered Johannes, who, with Jakobsen, was their companion on land once more. “A sound may alarm the walrus.”
“But I should have thought they would be tame enough up here,” said Steve. “They can’t have seen men before. Couldn’t we walk up to them boldly?”
The Norseman shook his head.
“They have other enemies beside man, sir, and they are suspicious of anything strange which they see moving. Look,” he continued, pointing downward from the height to which they had climbed.
“What at? More walrus?”
“No, sir; that shining water. We need not have left the boat. It is the continuation of the passage we came through, and you can trace it from those great blocks of ice right away in and out to the sea.”
“All but in that one place not so very far from where we left the boat.”
“Yes; the ice-floe was thrust right over it there. It may have choked it up, but perhaps there is a way under the ice. Great floes like that in motion yesterday would easily be thrust right over such a narrow canal. Look what has been done here.”
“Then, if we can row right through to the sea that will be grand,” said Steve; “because it will make it so easy if we can explore along the coast in the boat.”
“Yes, sir, and so much better for the seal and walrus-hunting. Shall we go on now, gentlemen?”
“Yes,” said Captain Marsham. “Where do you make out the herd to be lying now?”
“About a quarter of a mile from the other side of this pile, sir, straight away toward the sea. Be careful to keep out of sight.”
The stalk was resumed, and slowly and carefully all crept along in single file, keeping to the depressions and rugged passages between the masses of ice.
It was a most laborious struggle, for the necessity of keeping out of sight forced all to go down in the most difficult places, and at times to lie flat and crawl and drag themselves over the higher portions which they had to cross.
But the excitement kept them well to their work, and in almost perfect silence they progressed till a sheltered nook was reached behind a ridge formed by the tilting of one of the ice-fields which had been forced ashore. Here they paused again to regain breath and steadiness of hand, for the exertion was great to reach this advantageous spot, just beyond which the walrus lay, the sea being close at hand. There was only a rough slope formed by the edge of the floe now lying at an angle of about thirty-five degrees for them to mount, rest their rifles on the edge, take aim each at the one he selected, and fire.
Johannes had directed the captain on the course taken, he seeming to know, as if by instinct, the way to bear and regain the straight line marked out when they had been turned aside by an obstacle; and now, after pointing out to the leader where to take his place, and then by signs only indicating the doctor’s, he turned to Steve, placed his lips to the boy’s ear, and said:
“Creep up slowly without a sound, slip your gun over, and take aim at one of the walrus that is side on to you. It is of no use to shoot anywhere; it must be straight behind the eye, and about six inches away, just where it looks all thick neck. They’re waiting; go on.”
Steve glanced to right and left, as Johannes crouched down beside Jakobsen, each man with his lance ready; and then the captain waved his hand, and they started together, crawling up slowly and silently till they were within a yard of the level ridge, where all paused as if animated by the same spirit, thrust the barrels of their pieces toward the top, and began to seek for the next places to plant their feet so as to peer over the edge together.
Steve’s heart beat with great throbs, and a curious nervous sensation came over him; but he was in position first, saw that the captain was ready the next moment, and then turned to the doctor, for it was of course necessary that all should fire together.
Steve was just in time to hear a sharp ejaculation, and see the doctor slip and roll down the ice slope, his rifle rattling after him with plenty of noise; and, knowing that if he were not quick there would be no shot, he raised himself up with rifle ready, thrust it over the ridge at the same time as the captain, and then stopped there staring.
“Fire! fire!” came in a whisper from Jakobsen.
“What at?” replied Steve, and the captain laughed good-humouredly.
“Hurt yourself, Handscombe?” he said.
“Hurt myself! Of course I have. I shall be all bruises,” grumbled the doctor. “Why didn’t you shoot?”
“How can you ask that when you made noise enough to frighten away all the walrus in the arctic circle?”
“Are there none there?” said Johannes, who had crept up to Steve’s side.
“Not a sign of one.”
“Don’t say I scared them all away,” said the doctor.
“Oh no, sir,” replied the Norseman, looking about searchingly. “They must have seen us ten minutes ago; they’re yonder on the ice a quarter of a mile away. We were very careful, too.”
“I am glad I did not frighten them,” cried the doctor, rubbing one of his elbows.
“But it’s so disappointing after all that trouble,” grumbled Steve.
“Wait a bit, sir,” said Johannes, as he watched the herd; “you will have plenty of chances yet. There are sure to be some disappointments in walrus-hunting. We must be more careful next time. There are some, grand bulls there, though,” he added thoughtfully; “look at that one’s tusks, Mr Steve—that one drawing himself up out of the water.”
“Yes, I was looking at it,” replied Steve. “What a monster! It looks like an elephant without a trunk, and his tusks turned wrong way on.”
For there, swimming about, or climbing on to a great mass of ice a quarter of a mile away, but which looked half that distance in the clear air, was the herd in perfect safety. They were of all sizes, from calves not half grownup to unwieldy cows and the huge massive bulls. Some floated quietly, others were gambolling about, and the rest lay in various attitudes as if basking or sleeping in the warm sunshine; while one great fellow had dragged himself on to the highest point, raised himself on his fore flippers, and, with head erect, was looking about in different directions.
“That’s the sentinel,” said Johannes quietly. “He’ll warn them of danger, and he must have seen us.”
“No,” said Jakobsen; and he pointed to their right.
Johannes laughed.
“Right,” he said. “No wonder you did not get a shot, gentlemen; there was some one stalking them first.”
“Some one?” cried the captain. “Who? where?”
Johannes chuckled, and pointed to where the water was being parted by something swimming.
“I see it,” cried Steve; “a bear!”
“Yes, sir; he has been trying to get one of the young calves, but they were too sharp for him; and now he has gone down to the water, and is swimming across to the floe to have another try. If you watch him, Mr Steve, you’ll see some fun.”
“Have a look, Steve,” said the captain, drawing the small double glass from its case and passing it to the boy, who carefully laid down his heavy rifle, and focussed the binocular upon the bear, bringing it, as it were, almost to his feet. He could see the long, cruel-looking head, with its pointed nose just clear of the water, the eyes the same, and the whole body so nearly submerged that there was nothing visible but the long hair, waving like a streaky ripple as the bear swam steadily on.
“It’s not going after the walrus,” said Steve.
“Wait a bit, sir. I think it is,” said Johannes. “That’s the bear’s cunning. If it went straight at them they would all plunge into the water, and swim and dive away. You’ll see the antics directly; those beasts are as cunning as cats.”
In effect, as Steve watched, he saw the bear swim right away to the ice, a couple of hundred yards apparently from the walrus herd, climb out on to the surface, shake itself to get rid of the water two or three times, and then move away from the edge a little and lie down in the sun, while the walrus herd paid no more attention to it than it apparently paid to them, the calves wallowing about and playing on the ice, and the rest of the herd gradually drawing themselves up to bask in the warmth. In fact, though it was interesting to examine the huge beasts through the glass, Steve began to think it time to commence inspecting something else, or try to shoot something useful to the ship’s cook.
“Old Johannes don’t know everything,” he said to himself; but the thought had hardly crossed his mind when the object thereof touched his arm.
“Look,” he said.
“I was looking,” replied Steve, whose glass was fixed upon the walrus herd. “What fat, comical creatures the young ones are! They seem to have no shape at all.”
“No, no; look at the bear. He’s hungry, that fellow, and wants a good feed.”
Steve turned the glass upon the bear, and saw that it had risen to its feet, and was licking itself, with its head turned away from the walrus, and then, lying down, it rolled over two or three times before beginning to lick and paw itself again for a time, but always shuffling backward a little as it attended busily to its toilet.
“See what he means, sir?” whispered Johannes.
“Yes, it’s trying to get nearer to the young walrus.”
“That’s it, sir. Now, you watch.”
Steve’s attention was taken now, and he eagerly scanned the action of the great Polar bear, which appeared to be in quite a playful mood, and had another roll and gambol on the ice before beginning to preen and clean its long, soft, whitish fur again as if it were feathers.
This went on for a long time; but it was so cleverly and artfully managed that it took the others’ attention, and they all lay there on the ice in the warm sunshine, watching the cunning animal as it continued to get nearer and nearer to the herd, while the old bull, with his head erect and his white tusks curving away sat up in the most stupidly stolid fashion.
“Why, the silly great bull will let the bear get close up to him!” cried Steve at last, after looking at one of these evolutions. “He managed quite six yards then. Why doesn’t the creature give the alarm?”
“Not so stupid as you think, sir,” said Johannes. “I’ve watched these animals many times before, and you’ll see that he’ll give the word before long; I mean he’ll do something to start them all off.”
All the same, it did not appear as if the huge walrus realised the danger approaching so steadily, for every now and then, while performing some antic, the bear continued to lessen the distance between it and its prey, while simulating the greatest innocence and assuming to be thinking of anything but making an attack. So playful a creature, enjoying itself thoroughly in the sunshine, could never have approached a walrus herd before. Now it was rolling legs upward, and giving itself a peculiar wriggle, as if to scratch its back; then it was sitting up like a cat, and reaching round to have a lick at the part of its person which had just been rubbed in the ice. A minute later it was on its flank, with all four legs stretched out, and its muzzle in the snow; and all these changes were made with the most extreme deliberation, and as if the animal was intent only upon its own enjoyment, and was as sportive as the unwieldy fat calves rolling about near their mothers a short distance away.
“It’s all over,” said Steve suddenly; for the animal had shuffled a little nearer to the herd, and then lain down with its head from them, and apparently gone to sleep.
The doctor and Captain Marsham, tired of watching the bear, had started off with their pieces, leaving Steve with the two Norsemen, so that the lad’s last remark was addressed to his companions.
“No,” said Jakobsen, smiling; “the sport has hardly begun.”
“Right,” said Johannes. “Why, Mr Steve, you do not think that treacherous great brute would take all that trouble for nothing, do you?”
“I don’t know, I do not understand bears,” replied Steve; “I only say look at him. Why, Johannes, if we had had the boat through, what a capture we might have made—the bear and plenty of walrus!”
“Perhaps, sir,” replied the Norseman drily.
“What do you mean?”
“We might have failed to get within shot.”
“And if we had, lost the walrus all the same,” said Jakobsen.
“Yes,” said Johannes, “you are never sure of one of those great beasts.”
“Well, let’s follow the captain,” said Steve; “I’m getting a little cold.”
“Won’t you stay and see the end of the bear’s game, sir? He has finished his nap, and has begun to have another roll.”
The man was correct, for the bear had rolled itself over, turned, and had another roll over, bringing itself apparently within some twenty yards of a couple of the smallest calves, which were stretched out in clumsy bulk close to the edge of the ice, where it was about ten feet above the glistening water.
“Now for it,” said Jakobsen; “he means mischief at last.”
But never was there a more innocent, playful-looking bear. It turned half away, and began to haul up the snow as if to make its bed there upon the floe, gazing across at the land the while; then with a swing, as if it were on a pivot, it swung round.
“Now!” cried Johannes; but there was no need, Steve’s eyes were fixed intently upon the animal as it made a sudden rush.
So did the bull walrus, and the snow rose in clouds, torn up by the animals making for the sea, which was churned up into foam as first one and then another of the monstrous, shapeless creatures threw itself in with a tremendous splash.
So great was the disturbance of snow and water that there was quite a mist; but Steve was able to see that the two fat calves rolled over into the sea in time enough to avoid the bear’s rush; and almost at the same moment the bull charged it, and caught it with its head in the flank as it stood with outstretched muzzle and grinning teeth reaching over the water, uttering a low, deep roar indicative of its disappointment.
So intent was the bear on the prey which it had missed, that it paid no heed to the approach of the bull, which, after bustling across the surface of the snow, struck the bear right in the side and tumbled it off into the sea with a tremendous splash, following directly after with a turmoil in the water which was more extensive still.
It was impossible to see what happened then, for the calm, smooth water seemed now to have been smitten by a storm, but only to calm again, as Jakobsen pointed along the edge of the floe, where the bear could be seen swimming steadily away.
“He has got off,” said Johannes, “for a wonder.”
“Why?” asked Steve; “the walrus couldn’t fight a savage beast like that.”
“But they do, sir, sometimes, in defence of their young; and then the walrus can be a savage beast, too. Think of what tusks they have! I’ve seen them thirty inches long, but say there are eighteen or twenty inches standing out, firm, hard teeth with which the animal can strike like lightning.”
“Straight down, I suppose?” said Steve.
“Straight down, sir? Any way,—side ways, and even upwards; for big, heavy creatures as they are, they can twist their heads round like a kitten. I daresay a walrus would get the worst of it on the ice, if the bear could once get a good hug; but when a bull has got a bear in the water, though he can swim splendidly, he is not at home there like a walrus, and this one must have had better luck than usual to get away.”
“And where is the herd now?” said Steve, looking curiously after the bear.
“Ah, gone far enough by this time, sir. The bear scared them, and they go on swimming away for miles till they forget all about the danger, and then get on the ice again.”
A hail from the captain took them to his side. He was examining the narrow rift which made its way amidst the piled-up ice, the rocks on either side having prevented its being filled up, and, following this, they made their way toward the boat, and wherever it was possible they managed to trace it pretty well, till, as Johannes had surmised, they came upon a place where the channel through the rocks was covered in, but fortunately not choked, being completely arched over for about a hundred yards.
“We must try and find our way to this in the boat to-morrow,” said Captain Marsham; “there must be a way, though we did not find it to-day.”
“It is hidden somewhere by the rocks, sir,” said Johannes: “shall we search?”
“No; they will be getting uneasy on board. I am satisfied with to-day’s work. We have found another road to the sea, one which is not blocked. But,” he added in a low voice to the doctor, “not a way out for the ship.”
They reached the boat a short time after, and plunged from the brilliant sunshine into the chill and gloom of the weird rift, along which they were rowed, listening to a good deal of splashing and echoing in the darkest part.
“Fish?” whispered Steve, for the strangeness of the gloomy chasm had an effect upon his spirits, and before he asked that question he had been busy with his imagination conjuring up all manner of strange-looking, dangerous creatures as being likely to inhabit the dark depths over which they were riding, so he turned to Johannes and said, “Fish?”
“Seals,” replied the Norseman laconically.
An hour later they were out in the sunshine once again, with the magnificent glacier which filled up the northern end of the fiord looking more lovely than when they saw it first, a fact due; perhaps, to their having been threading a gloomy passage which at times was like a huge cavern.
Then came a long row past the valleys which ran inland, and down one of which the doctor declared that he saw a reindeer; and in due time the fiord contracted, the rocks on either side towered up with their ledges displaying row after row of sea-birds ready to take flight and utter their wild clamour, as in the distance they resembled a snowstorm of which the great flakes were parti-coloured.
At last the Hvalross was seen floating on the clear water, looking welcome and bright in the sunshine; and so clear was everything that as they neared her she looked doubled, one vessel keel to keel with another, whose funnel and masts lay low in the depths of the fiord.
“Dinner’s quite ready, gentlemen,” said the cook as they reached the deck; and that night, in spite of the soft glow of the sun, Steve slept as soundly as if it were as dark as any that he had ever known at home.
Captain Marsham had given his orders over-night, and hence the steam was up by breakfast time, and directly after that meal the vessel was gliding northward with her propeller churning up the deep water into a silvery foam, while two ever-extending waves ran toward the sides of the fiord, and broke upon the perpendicular rocks which ran down into deep water.
Steve felt a little regret at quitting their anchorage, till he recalled that there was an equally beautiful one at the foot of the frozen fall; and he had just come to the conclusion that it was a very wise change, for it suggested imprisonment to be shut in on three sides by the towering rocks and the piled-up ice-floes, when the captain said to Mr Handscombe:
“This will be a wonderful change for the better.”
“But you will not go on loading the vessel with oil now?” said the doctor.
“Why not? We shall have grand opportunities to do that, and make expeditions inland as well, on the chance of finding that our friends may also have been driven up here.”
“But the vessel—we can never extricate her, so why load her?”
“Because the chances here are so many. It looks at the first blush as if the vessel is bound to stay here till she has rotted and the engine rusted away, but we are not going to despair. Who could, in weather like this, eh, Steve?”
“Of course not,” said the boy. “Why, we can set to work and build a ship big enough to carry us back to Norway out of the planks, if the ice behind us does not melt.”
The captain nodded, and then he resumed his task of keeping a sharp look-out forward in search of rocks, but his search was vain, for the water was immensely deep and clear, and they reached the open part of the fiord, and cast anchor a short distance away from the mouth of the black chasm and in full view of the glacier. This promised to give them shelter from the first northern gale which blew, though one of the lateral valleys looked threatening, and as if the wind could rush along it like a blast roaring through a pipe; but as that was below their anchorage, it was not likely to affect them much.
The anchor then went down in deep water, and as if they had only to sail out up the fiord at any time they liked, the captain had two boats lowered, and giving the mate charge of one, he led the way in the other to the mouth of the chasm, while the men, with their lances and harpoons on board, tugged eagerly at the oars, ready and willing for their first attack upon the oil-yielding animals of the northern seas.
Success attended them on getting to the more open water at the end of the chasm, for, after a little searching, the continuation was found right at the back of a huge mass of rock, and, clearing this obstacle, the men rowed on, to plunge into brief darkness again beneath the long stretch of ice arches. Then came a good, steady pull and a cheer, for the boats were out in clear water in the wide channel which ran up between the ice-bound shore and the floe.
As they rowed out in the open water the men looked disappointed, and Steve, who was in the bows of the first boat with Johannes and Jakobsen, had to listen to the Scotch sailors’ banter, spoken to the Norwegians sometimes, but more often at the lad himself.
“Hahmeesh laddie,” said Andrew McByle, “if she hadna baith hands at the oar, she’d get out ta sneeshin’. Gie me a pinch. Hah! Ferry goot, laddie, ferry goot,” he continued, after helping himself to a pinch of snuff, and being able to use his hands for that. “She’ll hae chust ane more wee bit. Hah! Tak’ the box back, as she’ll pe for finishing it a’.”
They rowed on for a little while, with Hamish staring about and Andrew giving an occasional snort of contempt.
“See annything, Hahmeesh?”
“Na, naething.”
“Naething it is, laddie. Hech! And I thocht after a’ she’d heard tell tat the sea was chust alive wi’ the walrus and seal, and bear lived a’ along like wee birdies on the rocks.”
“Hey, to hear a’ they said,” grumbled Hamish, “she’d think sae. Ant there’s as many walrus coos and bulls here as ye see in ta Firth o’ Clyde if ye gang oop ta Glasgie.”
“Ye’re recht, laddie,” said Andrew, “chust as many. Why, it’s petter in ta Clyde, for she can see a porpoise pig, and there’s naething here but watter and ice. Wha are we gaen?”
“She canna tell,” said Hamish. “She’s thinkin’ it’s to pring the lang tyke oot for a ride.”
“If you call my collie a ‘lang tyke,’ Hamish, I’ll set him at you. Here, Skeny. Css!”
The dog started up from where he had been lying in the bows, looked in his master’s face, and uttered a low growl.
“Na, she wadna set the tog at a man, Hahmeesh,” said Andrew with a sly grin. “Not that there’s muckle bite spout the tog. What made ye pring her to sea at a’, Meester Steve?”
“To bite impudent people’s legs,” said Steve gruffly.
“Na, she wadna dae tat,” cried Andrew. “Put, Meester Steve, wha’ are a’ the walrus gane tae?”
“To sleep, perhaps.”
Andrew chuckled.
“Look here, laddie, she winna say a wort to anny one, but ye’ll chust tell the truth to a man. She tidna see anny walrus yesterday at a’?”
“I’m not going to try and make you believe if you don’t care to,” said Steve.
“Put she chust wants to know. Come noo, ye tidna see anny, and it was a chust flim-flam and mak’-believe.”
“There were plenty here yesterday,” said Steve.
“Then where are they gane the?”
“Why didn’t you bring your pipes and play? You’d have soon seen where they were.”
“Ay!” said Andrew seriously. “Chust a wee lilt o’ the pipes might pring the creatures oot o’ their holes. There was a man ance, Apollo they ca’d him, as played on the pipes, an’ a’ the bit beasties cam’ roond to listen; and she’ll pe thenking that a’ that time back the pipes would pe ferry safage like, and a mon like tat not aple to play like we play the noo.”
This was said so innocently and in such good faith that Steve could hardly keep his countenance.
“Chah! She’s ferry sorry she tidna pring the pipes. There was plenty room in ta poat.”
“But there’s no room out here for the noise,” cried Steve, laughing.
“Tid she hear tat?” said Andrew, turning his head to speak to Hamish. “She ca’d the music noise. Ah, laddie, ye’ll ken mair spout the music when ye’re a muckle bit more auld. It’s a ferry crant thing the music, and she’ll pe ferry sorry some tay that she crinned at the pipes.”
“R–r–r–r–ra!” growled Skene, leaping upward so as to place his paws on Steve’s shoulders; and then he barked loudly as he gazed at the ice-floe on their left.
“Keep that dog quiet, Steve,” said the captain; “he’ll scare the walrus.”
Andrew’s head went down with his chin upon his breast, and he gave Steve an exasperating, sly look as the lad tried to quiet the dog.
“Do you hear? Keep him quiet! We ought not to have brought him.”
“She winna skear ta walrus,” whispered Andrew, “for there are nane.”
“The dog sees something yonder,” said Johannes. “Yes, there! He sees a bear close up in that break in the ice.”
“A bear!” cried the captain excitedly. “Well done, dog! We should have passed it.”
The rifles were seized, and their eyes shaded to catch a glimpse of the white-furred animal hiding in one of the crevices of the ice cliff until the boat had passed. But the glitter of the snow made the task difficult till they were much nearer, and then it was seen to be lying at full length just clear of the water, and with its head well up, apparently enjoying the warm sunshine and seizing a favourable opportunity for a good sleep.
Rifles were held ready for a shot as the men rowed in till they were within a hundred yards, without the bear, which was a monster, taking the slightest notice of the boat, and then the captain said:
“Cease rowing the moment I hold up my hand. Johannes, Jakobsen, have your spears ready; the brute may swim off and attack the boat when it is wounded.”
“We are quite ready, sir,” said the Norwegian in a whisper; and he and his companion gently raised the heads of their spears from where the weapons were lying along the thwarts.
“Good. Now, Steve, we’ll get in another fifty yards if we can, and then rest on our oars. You shall have the first shot. Do you know where to aim?”
“About six inches behind his eye, sir.”
“Nonsense, boy!” cried the captain sharply. “Fire right at the brute’s shoulder, sending the bullet through the shoulder-blade to the heart.”
“Yes, sir,” said Steve; and he turned to Johannes. “You told me to shoot six inches behind the eye,” he whispered.
“At a walrus, sir; not at a bear.”
By this time they were about fifty yards away from the bear, which had not stirred. The captain raised his hand, and the men ceased dipping their oars, the boat gliding forward a short distance, and then coming to a stand.
“Now, Steve! Quick!”
“I—I don’t care to fire,” whispered the lad.
“Bah! What do you mean?”
“The bear’s asleep, and it seems so cowardly.”
“I’m not so particular about a dangerous beast,” said the doctor; and, kneeling in the stem of the boat, he rested his elbows on the gunwale, took a long aim, and fired, the bullet striking the bear’s shoulder with a dull thud.
“Well done! splendid shot!” cried the captain. “Right to the heart. The brute hardly moved.”
But, all the same, as the smoke rose he stood ready to send another shot at the monster if it should prove only to be stunned.
“Here, doctor,” he said, “give him the other barrel, so as to make sure. I don’t want any one to be clawed.”
The doctor, nothing loth, took aim again, and fired his second cartridge, this bullet also taking effect; but the bear did not move.
“Dead enough,” said the captain. “Give way, my lads.”
The men pulled, and the boat was rowed right up to a tiny valley in the ice, which just gave them room to land and group round the monstrous bear, the gentlemen with their guns ready for a shot, the two Norwegians with their spears over their shoulders.
The doctor’s eyes sparkled with delight, for this bear also was a magnificent specimen, with enormously long, fine hair, decidedly whiter than the coat of the brute they had destroyed at Jan Mayen.
“I did not know that you were such a shot, Handscombe,” said the captain.
“Oh, a mere accident,” said the doctor modestly. “Wasn’t it a pity you let your chance go, Steve?”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” said the lad, planting his foot on the bear’s shoulder, and stooping to look for the wound. Then he started, and glanced at Johannes, who, like Jakobsen, stood leaning on his spear.
He read confirmation in the man’s quiet eyes, and he turned round excitedly to his companions.
“Why, the bear’s dead!” he cried.
“Of course it is,” said the captain, laughing. “We should not be standing here if it were not.”
“But I mean dead before Mr Handscombe fired!”
“What!” cried the doctor, flushing red, while the captain went down on one knee to raise a paw.
“Yes,” he cried, “and frozen stiff. It must have been dead for many hours, eh, Johannes?”
“Yes, sir,” said the man, kneeling down to part the fur, “many hours. Yes, here it is! Look! in the chest. The walrus got his tusk well home.”
“Eh? What?” cried the captain, as the Norseman pointed to a great gaping wound; from which the blood had been washed by the sea. The wound was in the upper part of the animal’s chest, in a position where a dagger-like stroke would penetrate to the heart; and the bear had evidently swum for some distance, crawled there, and, after drawing itself up, quietly died.
“But I don’t quite understand,” said the captain.
“It is the walrus we saw tumble the bear off the cliff into the sea yesterday.”
“What!” cried the doctor excitedly. “Then I did not kill it?”
“No,” said the captain, laughing. “You cannot kill a dead thing.”
“But—but—” stammered the doctor.
“You see, doctor, your profession is curing, not killing,” cried the captain, laughing. “Never mind: better luck next time.”
“But it is so absurd. The idea of shooting at a dead beast!”
“I’m glad I didn’t, Mr Handscombe!” cried Steve merrily.
“Now, look here, don’t you begin to joke me, sir,” said the doctor, “because I will not have it.”
He spoke laughingly, but he was evidently greatly chagrined.
“So utterly ridiculous,” he said. “I say, Johannes, you ought not to have let me waste ammunition over a dead beast.”
“I’m very sorry, sir, but I did not know till you fired the first shot, the animal lay so naturally. Then I began to think it was our bear wounded. Of course, sir, I would not have let you fire if I had known.”
“Never mind,” said the captain, laughing. “But I say, Steve, my lad, your scruples saved you from a—from a—”
“There, say it; don’t hesitate,” said the doctor. “Saved him from a very ridiculous action. I don’t mind.”
“Well, we have got a magnificent bear anyhow,” cried the captain. “His skin is finer than that of the other, and he is tremendously fat.”
“There’ll pe plenty more pear’s grease for Watty’s hair,” whispered Hamish; and Andrew uttered a dry laugh, which sounded like the rattling together of pieces of wood.
“I don’t think there can be any tide to rise here and sweep the animal away,” said the captain, “so we’ll leave it till we return.”
He led the way to the boat, leaving the bear untouched, and the next minute they were rowing north, with the whole party keeping a sharp look-out for the walrus, which seemed to have forsaken the coast.