Adrift in the Ice-Fields Part 15

La Salle took the heavy piece, and was about to discharge it to leeward, when, from the very air above their heads, a voice seemed to call on them by name, "La Salle, Charley, Peter, ahoy!"

La Salle dropped the b.u.t.t of his gun, and listened. Again the voice sounded apparently nearer than before. "Charley, Peter, ahoy!"

"That voice ole man Lund. I know it; but what for sposum voice there?

Then track go that way. Ole man lose way, spose."

"Perhaps he has fallen in, Peter. Come, let's go."

And catching a rope near him, and forgetting to lay down the c.u.mbrous gun, Charley ran towards the incessant and evidently-agonized cries, Peter following with an axe and a light fish-spear.

Scarcely had the runners gone a hundred yards before they stopped in dismay. At their feet the ice-field ended abruptly, and scarce a hundred yards away rose a wall of red sandstone, on whose summit stood Lund, peering down into the whirl of snow-flakes. His quick eye espied them, and he shouted his last advice.

"Launch your boat at once; don't wait. Keep under the lee. Don't try to save anything but your lives. Keep the wind at your backs in rowing, and mind the set of the tide eastward."

"Ay, ay! I understand. We're waiting for the boys!" shouted La Salle.

"I can't hear a word," called out Lund across the rapidly-increasing s.p.a.ce.

"Give me that spear, Peter," said La Salle.

And snapping off the tiny barbs, he drew from his pocket a pencil, and wrote as follows on the slender rod of white maple:--

"We know our danger, but have no oars; for the boys have not returned. Unless they do so soon, shall stick to the ice until the weather clears. Look for us along the coast if the storm lasts.

"Love to all. LA SALLE."

Holding up the rod to be seen by Lund, he placed it in the muzzle of his piece, and motioned to the captain to watch its flight. The pilot stepped behind a tree, and La Salle aimed at the face of a large snow-drift near him. The report echoed amid the broken ledges, the long white arrow sped through the air, and stuck in the snow close to the tree. Lund picked it up, and bent over it a moment; then bowed his head, as if a.s.suring them of his approval of its contents.

Already the floe had moved into rough water, and the short waves raised by the increasing gale began to throw their spray far up on the ice. The snow-squall gathered fury, and La Salle, waving his hand, pointed heavenward, while Peter, knowing but too well the danger of their position, sank on his knees, and began the simple prayers of his faith.

Lund saw them fade from view into the sleety veil that hid the waste of waters, and groaning in spirit, turned homeward.

"In half an hour no boat on the island can reach them, even if men could be found to face certain death in a snow-storm out on the open Gulf."

Peter rose to his feet, apparently almost hopeless.

"Good by, Saint Peter's! Good by, Trois Lieues' Creek! Good by, Lund!

Poor Peter no more shootum wild goose here."

"Come, Peter, don't give it up so," said La Salle. "We must find the boys and get their oars and boat, and then well try and see what we can do to get ash.o.r.e."

Peter's eyes brightened a little, and walking around the edge of the floe, they came, in the course of twenty minutes, to the boys, snugly seated under their inverted boat, in a hollow of a large berg, which, until that day, had never floated with the tide.

"Come, boys, this won't do. We're adrift, and getting well out into the Gulf. Turn over your boat, put everything into her, and let's try what we can do with the big boat."

In desperate haste the four took down the light craft, threw in the oars and guns, and dashed across the quarter of a mile which lay between them and the windward side of the ice. In about five minutes they reached the large boat; but all saw at a glance that little less than a miracle was needed to carry them safe ash.o.r.e.

The snow was falling thick and fast, the wind driving it in eddying clouds, and amid it could be seen at times the white caps of the increasing surges as they broke on the edge of the floe. It was evident that it would be madness to attempt to leave their present position; yet all stood silent a moment, as if unwilling to be the first to confess the painful truth.

At last La Salle broke the silence. "It's no use, boys; we must stay here all night. And first, let's get both boats down to the berg, for this floe may go to pieces any time; but that is all of twenty feet thick, and will stand a good deal yet. Come, pile in the decoys and tools, and let's get under cover as soon as we can."

The decoys of iron and wood, and even those of fir-twigs, of which they had added some three dozen, were piled into the boats, and taking hold at the painter of the largest, they soon trundled the heavy load to the thickest part of the field.

"Sposum we get Davies's box and 'coys too. Then we mak.u.m camp, have plenty wood too. Spose field break up, loosem sartin," said Peter.

"You're right. Come, boys. We don't know how long we may be on this ice-field, and we shall need all the shelter we can get, and fuel too."

It was nearly an hour before they found the box and its pile of decoys, but the box had been furnished with rude runners, and being already clear of the ice, there was no delay in what was evidently becoming a dangerous proximity to the sea; for that edge of the ice was already breaking up, as the rollers broke over it, bearing it down with the weight of water. Sunset must have been close at hand when the party arrived, wet, weary, and almost despairing, at the berg.

"Now, boys," said La Salle, "we must build our house at once, for no one can tell how long this storm may last. Luckily we have two shovels and two axes. Peter and I will cut away the ice, and you two will pile up fragments, and clear away the snow and rubbish."

Choosing a crater-like depression on the summit of the berg, La Salle laid out a parallelogram about eight feet square, and motioning to Peter, proceeded to sink a square shaft into the solid ice, which, at first a little spongy, rapidly became hard and flinty. Aided by the natural shape of the berg, in the course of an hour a cavity had been cleared out to the depth of about six feet. Over this was inverted the box belonging to Davies, and this was kept in place by fragments of ice piled around and over it, after which the interstices were filled with wet snow, and the whole patted into a firm, impermeable mound.

On the leeward side the wall had been purposely left thin, and through this a narrow door, about three feet high, was cut into the excavation.

Lighting his lantern, La Salle stepped inside, finding himself in a gloomy but warm room, about nine feet high in the walls, and eight feet square. Taking the dryest of the fir decoys, he cut the cords which bound them together, and laying the icy branches of their outer covering on the bare ice, soon formed a non-conducting carpet of fir-twigs, of which the upper layers were nearly dry.

The whole party then entered, carefully brushing from their clothes and boots as much of the snow as possible, and, seating themselves, for the first time rested from incessant exertion amid the furious peltings of a driving north-east snow-storm.

La Salle motioned to the rest to place their guns in a nook near the door, and taking the boiler of the lantern, filled it with snow, and placed it above the flame. Regnar, noticing this, went out and brought in the rude chest containing the remnants of their little stock of coffee, and the basket with what was left of the day's lunch.

In the former were found a few matches, about a half pound of coffee, perhaps a pound of sugar, a box and a half of sardines, and two or three dozen ship's hard-bread. In the basket were left several slices of bread, a junk of corned beef weighing about two pounds, and some apples and doughnuts.

In a short time the tiny boiler, which held about a pint, was full of boiling water, to which La Salle added some coffee, and soon each had a small but refreshing draught, which helped wonderfully to restore their usual warmth and vigor of circulation. From the lunch-basket, whose contents had remained untouched all day, a slight meal was taken, and then the remainder of the provisions put carefully away, although a second cup of coffee was left preparing in the lantern for possible contingencies.

La Salle looked at his watch--it was nearly eight o'clock.

"We are now well down off Point Prime, and are probably under the lee of other ice, as we no longer feel the tossing of the sea. The boats are all ready for use, but it is not likely we shall need them to-night, unless, indeed--Let us hold a council of war, and decide at once on our course of action."

[Ill.u.s.tration: ]

CHAPTER X.

THE COUNCIL.--Pa.s.sING THE CAPE.

Drawing his coat tightly around him, La Salle first drew aside the rubber blanket which had been hung up for a door, and crawled out into the storm. The snow still fell heavily, but although the wind blew very hard, few drifts were formed, owing to the wet and heavy nature of the large, soft flakes, although at times a flurry of sharp, stinging hail rattled against the boats and the roof of the ice-chamber.

As nearly as he could judge, the wind was north-east, or perhaps a point or two south of that, for at times there came warmer gusts, as if the wind veered to a milder quarter. The roar of the sea could be plainly heard, but evidently far up to windward, and there was little doubt that they need have no apprehensions from that source at present.

Re-entering he found his friends anxiously awaiting his report on the aspect of things outside, and he plunged at once into the gist of the matter before them.

"I see no reason to expect any change in our situation until the tide turns, which will be in about an hour. I can notice no change in the wind, nor do I think we have shifted our relative position to its course. Should the storm decrease towards morning, we shall probably find ourselves up the straits, in the vicinity of the capes. Only one danger can possibly a.s.sail us, and that is being ground to pieces on the New Brunswick sh.o.r.e. We must keep a watch to-night, commencing at about twelve o'clock. Regnar, will you keep the first watch of an hour and a half, and then call me?"

"Yes, sir; all right. I wake any time, and I know what 'nip' means. We must not get caught napping if that happens."

"Can't we get ash.o.r.e and off of this horrid floe, if we strike on the other sh.o.r.e?" asked Waring, a little dolorously.