Steve Young Part 9

"His nose is sharper than your ears, then," said the doctor. "He smells something. Can it be the land?"

"No; we must be fifty or sixty miles from the nearest land," said the captain, and the dog barked sharply.

"What is it, Skeny?" cried Steve, stooping and patting the animal's s.h.a.ggy neck; "what is it, old fellow?"

The dog looked up at him sharply, barked again, and ran forward to scramble up on the bowsprit, where he barked loudly, sniffing uneasily in the intervals.

Two of the Norwegian sailors were forward keeping as sharp a look-out as was possible for the mist; and as Steve followed the dog he was sensible of a peculiar feeling of chill, as if an icy breath was blowing over him.

Then the dog barked again a perfect volley, and in an instant Steve felt his heart stand still, for there was a whirring rush, which rose into quite a roar, mingled with the flapping and beating of wings, and the dog grew almost frantic.

"What is it?" whispered Steve in awe-stricken tones.

"Sea-birds," said one of the men, calmly enough. "A big field of ice is floating by."

He had hardly spoken before there was a heavy thud against the ship's bows, another, and then a heavy thrusting blow which made her quiver from stem to stern and careen over, while above where they stood there was the gleam of ice, a huge ma.s.s standing five or six feet above the bulwarks, against which it kept sc.r.a.ping and rubbing and careening the vessel over more and more.

The captain shouted an order to the man at the wheel, and he rammed down the rudder, but there was hardly a breath of air, and the ship had no way on. Then running forward, Captain Marsham shouted to the men to seize hitchers, sweeps, anything, to try and thrust off the vessel from the ice-floe, but all in vain. Vessel and ice continued to grind slowly together, the ship yielding to the mighty pressure of the floe; and as every one had now rushed on deck, it seemed as if the next thing would be to lower the boats and escape before the ice rode right over the _Hvalross_ and sank her in the icy depths.

The men toiled and thrust, but their efforts were utterly without effect, for the two heavy floating bodies had an attraction one for the other, and the grinding noise continued, till it sounded to Steve as if the ice would soon work its way through the stout copper and planks; but a few minutes later three pieces of stout spar were lowered down between the vessel's hull and the ice to be rubbed into shreds, while the _Hvalross_, after yielding and careening over foot by foot to the tremendous, pressure, began to right herself till she floated upon an even keel.

If anything the fog was now more dense, making it impossible to take any observations. All they knew was that they were changing their position as they floated steadily along in a heavy current, and that the ice which seemed to hold them fast was gradually revolving, till, from being pointed north-west, the _Hvalross'_ bowsprit was south-east.

All this time, while the other sailors seemed excited and startled by the risk, the Norwegians were perfectly calm and cool, Johannes expressing his opinion that they would not hurt now, but that the vessel would hug the great floe till the wind sprang up. But Captain Marsham was not so confident of their not coming to harm grinding against an ice rock whose extent, save that it was some twenty feet above the water, it was impossible to compute; and as soon as he had convinced himself that they would not have to take to the boats, he had given orders which resulted in the rattling of iron doors and a dull roar from the engine-room, while the semi-darkness grew more dense as the grey fog-cloud began to be pervaded by another and a blacker cloud, which poured out of the funnel and then spread itself around in the calm, dense air, till the branches, as it were, of some huge tree, of which the vessel's funnel was the stem, were spread overhead, giving the gleaming ice a peculiarly weird look. For the engineer and his two a.s.sistants were hard at work trying to get up steam--a long and tedious task under the circ.u.mstances.

Very little was said, very little heard but the roar of the furnace; but every now and then the pieces of spar creaked and groaned with the pressure upon them, and twice over there was a sharp splitting sound and a splash as a huge piece of the floe fell away, raising such a wave that the _Hvalross_ swayed over as she rose and fell.

Captain Marsham paced the deck anxiously, and Steve had the doctor for companion, but they only spoke in whispers of the risk they ran.

"What I fear is," said the latter, "that with this grinding together a great piece may split off and fall over upon our deck."

"Not high enough," said Steve decisively. "If a piece did break away, it could only give us a heavy push, and might do good."

But, all the same, as he spoke he felt that he would rather that good were not done, and contrived that in their walks about the deck they should be able to peer down into the engine-room, where the men were stoking and raking the fire to make it roar more fiercely, knowing, as they did, that once they could get up steam a very few turns of the screw would back them away from their icy enemy and make all safe.

"The first taste of the perils of the arctic sea, Steve," said the doctor quietly. "What would it have been if we had been going full speed and struck on this ma.s.s of ice!"

"We shouldn't have been going full speed," replied Steve confidently,--"not in a fog; and I suppose we should have had some warning, as we did a little while ago."

"Little while ago!" said the doctor; "it was hours!"

The intense excitement of the time had made it seem so short.

And all the while the roar of the fire kept on, the great tree of smoke spread more and more over the cold mist and darkened the air, till it appeared as if they were going to have real night once more instead of the light into which they had sailed. But still the steam was not available, and after one long grinding crash Captain Marsham gave orders which resulted in bags of biscuit, tins of meat, and casks of water being placed in the two largest boats; after which, as if from a sudden thought, he ordered some blankets to be added.

"I say," whispered Steve to the doctor, after watching these proceedings for some time, "how long will it take us to row to the nearest port?"

"To Hammerfest, my lad? Don't ask me."

There was another grinding, rending noise, as the great ice-floe revolved slowly in one direction and the current bore the vessel against it in another; and as these sounds arose Steve felt a strange oppression at the chest, and it ached where Johannes had seized him, and his wrenched shoulder began to throb. For it was as if the ice was stripping the planking of the ship from the timbers, and the boy listened for the sound of rushing water making its way below. But on going to the side and looking over, he could see the pieces of wood which had been lowered down between the vessel's hull and the ice being ground up and torn into fibres, while the ice kept splintering away from the edge of the floe, where in the foggy gloom the fragments looked of a dirty-white against the black, solid ma.s.s.

Steve tried to be calm and composed, but at such a time it was impossible; and with the natural desire to find some one to whom he could talk and with whom he could find companionship, he looked round to see that the doctor had joined the mate, and that the captain was on the bridge pacing anxiously to and fro and communicating with the engineer from time to time.

He glanced at the sailors, and they all but one were waiting to obey the instructions they received, and were ready with spars and ropes to lower fresh material down! for the ice-floe to grind up against the vessel's side.

The only man not busy was Andrew McByle, and Steve hurried to him.

"Think we shall get off safely, Andra?" he whispered, as a piece of one of the spars gave forth a dismal, groaning sound which vibrated through every nerve.

"No. She was thenking aboot my pipes, laddie. The skipper's certain to mak' a fuss gin I tak' them wi' me in the boat."

"Then you think we shall have to take to the boats?" said Steve excitedly.

"Ay, laddie; what else can we do? There's nae wint, not eneuch to turn a weather-c.o.c.k upon a kirk, and there's nae steam. Piff wi' all your talk aboot the engines to use when there's nae wint! Where are they the noo?"

"But they'll soon have the steam up now, Andra."

"I dinna believe it. She's fashed wi' your new-fangled rubbish; all weel eneuch in fine weather, but when she want it the puir f.e.c.kless mairsheennary isn't there."

"But you can hear the fire roaring."

"Ay, she can hear the great flaming thing burning oop mair coal and mair coal; but it isna fire we want, laddie, but steam."

"Yes, it is a long time," sighed Steve. "Do you think we must take to the boats?"

"Ay, laddie; if I were skipper I'd joost hae plenty o' food and claes pit upon the ice, and camp there wi' the boats hanging on aboot. We could tak' to them when the ice was a' melted doon, an'--"

"Here, hi! lend a hand, my lad!" shouted the mate, and Andrew trotted off, leaving Steve more low-spirited than ever.

For it seemed so terrible, just on the threshold of an exciting voyage, in which he had painted to himself plenty of sport and adventure, ending in the discovery of his uncle and the men who had been his companions.

All had gone wrong, and he felt that they would have to accept their failure, and try to get back to the nearest Norwegian port, a terribly dangerous journey in an open boat.

And now, more than ever, he felt the want of some companionship, and, with a feeling of regret, he thought of the one nearest to him in years.

"They're all men," he said to himself, "and I'm only a boy. They don't think about me. Wish I hadn't kicked poor old Watty."

As he thought this he walked to the door of the galley and looked in, to find that the cook was rating the boy of whom he had been thinking.

"What!" he was saying; "want to go and be ready to take to the boats?

You stay where you are till you're wanted. They won't leave us behind.

Such a fuss about getting up a bit of steam; why, I'd have made that water boil an hour ago if I'd had it to do. They don't know how to manage it!"

"Ow--!"

This was a dismal beginning of a howl from Watty.

"Here, stop that, you miserable Highland calf! You've got breeches on, so I suppose you're a boy! Do you suppose an English lad would make that row? I'll be bound to say Mr Steve Young's somewhere aft, with his hands in his pockets as usual, looking on as cool as a cuc.u.mber."