Adrift in the Ice-Fields Part 29

"No, indeed, sir!" said La Salle. "Tumble up, my men. Take your guns and your coats with you. Here, Nep; up that ladder, sir. That's right. Can you take our boat aboard?"

"Come right up, sur; dere's no fear of her. I'll have her aboord in tin minutes. Here comes de mate. What's your name, sur? La Salle? Yis, sur!

Mister Blake, sur; Mister La Salle, sur."

"Happy to see you, Mr. La Salle. I've learnt enough about you to know that you have been adrift nearly two weeks, and as dinner's ready we must have you into the cabin. I am sorry that but one berth is vacant, and your friends will have to take their chance in the forecastle."

"If you please, I had rather have you extend your courtesy to Mr. George Waring, a son of Mr. Albert Waring, of C., who does a large business with your St. John's fishing firms. He has been the only one of us who has been sick, and--"

"There, Mr. Blake," interposed Waring, "don't listen to him; take him with you. Why, I am as strong as an ox now, and you'll find him far better company than I am."

Pa.s.sing aft through gangways crowded with brawny, hardy-looking sealers, La Salle followed his conductor to the cabin, where he found six or eight men gathered around a table plentifully supplied with the usual provisions found on board ships in the merchant service. After being introduced to all present, who greeted him with a rude civility, Mr.

Blake invited him to "fall to and help himself."

It is needless to say that he required no pressing in this direction.

"Hard tack" and "salt horse," with potatoes, soft bread, and chicory coffee sweetened with mola.s.ses, seemed food fit for the G.o.ds, after the greasy meat-diet of the last eleven days; and his companions considerately refrained from questioning him until his hunger was satisfied. At last he drew back his chair, lit a cigar offered him by one of the officers, and turning to the mate said, laughingly,--

"Fire away, gentlemen--I'm ready."

After narrating the princ.i.p.al events of their voyage so far as he deemed prudent, he concluded as follows:--

"Two or three days ago we fell in with large sealing-floes, and among them one where a sealer had killed several hundred seals. A boat-hook, which you will find in our boat, bore this signal. Am I right in supposing that this is the name of your vessel?" and so saying he drew from his pocket the tiny pennon.

"It is ours, and we have been trying for a week to recover our skins, as well as the body of Captain Randall, whom we lost eight days ago."

Not a muscle of La Salle's face betrayed any emotion save that of interest, as he asked,--

"Lost your captain! And how, pray?"

At that moment a noise was heard in the inner cabin, as if several men were struggling; all at once the door flew open, and, with difficulty restrained by the utmost efforts of two powerful men, a pale, unshorn face, surmounting a wild and scantily-dressed figure, appeared to the party, none of whom started save La Salle, who almost fancied that the dead man, sealed up in the caverns of the ice, had come back again to his quarters on board the Mercedes. Crying out, "I couldn't save him! I couldn't save him!" the intruder was dragged, struggling and raving, back to his berth.

"Poor George! he takes the death of his brother sadly to heart. He was mate, and the other day they left the floe together, to ascend a large berg at some distance from our whaling-ground. We saw them on the top, after which they disappeared, going to the opposite side by which they had ascended. Shortly after we heard several rifle shots fired in quick succession, and then George came running towards us, shouting that his brother had fallen between the floes, and was drowning.

"We ran to the spot, and found a place between two floes where the ice was much broken up, as if some one had tried to catch something with a boat-hook; and Randall told us that his brother had fallen through and been carried under the ice before he could get to him. We broke the ice all around, but to no purpose; and then our lookouts discovered that we were in danger of getting nipped on the other side of the Magdalens. So we returned to the ship with George, sadly enough."

"Why were the rifle-shots fired? to call for a.s.sistance?" asked La Salle.

"Yes. None of our men have the rifle, although many are supplied with the old sealing-gun. We therefore agreed among the officers that three shots, fired in rapid succession, should call a.s.sistance in case of danger, or trouble with the men. Our rifles are all breech-loading carbines, and we can fire with great rapidity."

"Do you find them of service among the seals?"

"Yes, especially with the 'old hoods;' and poor Captain Randall, who spent some years in Europe, had his ammunition fitted so that the bullets explode on striking a bone. They tear a terrible hole in a seal, I a.s.sure you."

"Indeed! I never saw one of them, although it seems to me that I have read of the invention. Have you any of the bullets here? for I suppose the rifle was lost at the same time."

The sailing-master, or rather pilot, a short, thick-set Newfoundlander, took up the conversation.

"Dere's de rifle now, hangin' over your head. De captain was ailin', an'

his brother, who fancied de little piece, carried it. Dere's one of de cartridges in it yet."

So saying, he took down a short carbine of the Spencer pattern, and unlocking the slide, took out a cartridge and handed it to La Salle. It displayed at the end of the ball the copper capsule of a rifle-sh.e.l.l.

"Let us go on deck," said Blake, rising; but as they pa.s.sed again through the narrow pa.s.sage, they heard the struggles of the delirious captain, and his oft-repeated cry, "I couldn't save him! I couldn't save him!"

[Ill.u.s.tration]

CHAPTER XXII.

THE FORECASTLE OF THE SEALER.--A SEALER'S STORY.--THE LAST HUNT.--ARRIVAL AT ST. JOHN'S.

In the quarters of the men forward, between the lofty and wedge-like bows, the rest of the party met with a warm reception; and although grease was everywhere a prominent feature of the surroundings, still the sense of comfort, warmth, and security, made it a paradise to men who had pa.s.sed so many days of discomfort and anxiety.

Huge kids of beef, potatoes, and bread, with hot pannikins of strong black tea, formed their dinner, which most of the men preferred to eat on deck; but the boatswain, or rather captain of the forecastle, with, perhaps, a dozen others, seated themselves at the long hanging shelf which formed the table, and listened intently to the story of their varied wanderings and adventures.

As Regnar concluded, a grizzly-haired sealer from Kitty Vitty seized him by the hand.

A SEALER'S STORY.

"Ye've ben lucky, sur; de Lord be praised for't, for dere's many a better man nor you dat's died wid hunger an' cold on de ice. I mind once myself dat I sailed out o' Conception in March, an' tree weeks after dat we were up off Hamilton Inlet. Dere was a big fleet of us boys, for dat was in de ould times when dere were no steamers, but only brigantines mostly.

"Well, dere was ould Ned Shea in de Li'n, an' Jim Daygle in de Ringdove, an' Bill 'Hearne in de Swiler's Bride, an ourselves in de Truelove, all in company; an' dat night at dusk we made de Greenland ice. Well, de wind was west-nor'-west, an' we put de studdin'-sils onto her, an' away we went flamin' mad through der slob.

"Well, de ice giv us many a heavy thump dat night, but de ould Truelove was well fastened, an' at daylight next mornin', we heard de watch cry, 'Swiles! Swiles! On deck, below dere!' You may be sure we wasn't long in gettin' on deck wid our guns an' gaffs, an', sure enough, dere dey was, ould an' young, _atin' de shaydn_ (sheathing) _off her_.

"Den we launched de boats an' took to de ice; an' when we landed, de capten said, 'Trow your guns in de boats, an' at dem wid de gaff;' an'

such a ma.s.sacree I never saw since. De first I killed was a 'harp;' an'

den I killed a 'hood' wid de first lick; an' den a 'jenny' an' tree 'white coats;' but I took my toe to dem, an' all of 'em in a bit of a hollow not bigger den dis fo'c's'le, an' I sculped dem an' put dere sculps on a pinnacle; an' so it was all day an' de next.

"But on de t'ird day we were hard at it a good way from de vessil, an' I tought I saw some swiles under a hummock, an' I ran up swingin' my club; but dey didn't stir, an' den I saw dat dey wasn't swiles. Dey was Huskies, two of 'em, dead an' frozen stiff. Dere lines an' lances lay beside 'em, an' knives of hoop-iron, wid bone hannles, were in dere boots; but dere was no sign of anythin' to ate, an' dey looked wasted to 'natomies.

"I called de odders, an' de capten come up an' looked at dem a minute sorrowful-like, an' den said, 'Poor fellows! dey've been carried off'n de ice, an' starved till dey froze to death;' an' he tould us to bury dem daycently, an' we closed dem up in a pinnacle.

"But it was lucky we was near loaded, for dat put a chill on our min', an' de tought of dose dead Huskies lost us many a fine swile, for de boys wouldn't scatter over de ice as dey used to.

"It wasn't long after dat de capten tould us dat we were full enough, an' away we sailed to de sou'-east."

"Dat was de time de Li'n was lost--wasn't it?" inquired another islesman.

"Yes; on de way down we had an awful gale, an' de Li'n put into de pack an' got 'nipped,' so dat she went down; but her crew was all saved in de boats. We put off to say, an' for two days an' nights I tought we should never say land. Why, we lay to as long as we dared, an' until our deck was full of water, an' de capten said we mus' do somethin' else, or we should founder.

"I stood in de fore-riggin' an' watched de big says as dey come down upon us; an' I'll tell you one thing you'll do well to remember.

Whenever a big wave come dat I knew would sink us, if it broke upon us, _I made de sign of de holy cross, an' de wave broke before it reached us_."

"I've done de same ting often myself, an' nivir knew it to fail," said the younger man, who, it appeared, was the son of the veteran sealer.