The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Hatteras Part 11

"And then," continued Clifton, "doesn't he run out at night on the ice-fields without caring for the bears or the cold?"

"That's true," said Bolton.

"Did you ever see him making up to the men like an honest dog, or hanging around the kitchen, and following the cook when he's carrying a savory dish to the officers? Haven't you all heard him at night, when he's run two or three miles away from the vessel, howling so that he makes your blood run cold, and that's not easy in weather like this? Did you ever seen him eat anything? He never takes a morsel from any one; he never touches the food that's given him, and, unless some one on board feeds him secretly, I can say he lives without eating.

Now, if that's not strange, I'm no better than a beast myself."

"Upon my word," answered Bell, the carpenter, who had heard all of Clifton's speech, "it may be so."

But all the other sailors were silent.

"Well, as for me," continued Clifton, "I can say that if you don't believe, there are wiser people on board who don't seem so sure."

"Do you mean the mate?" asked Bolton.

"Yes, the mate and the doctor."

"Do you think they fancy the same thing?"

"I have heard them talking about it, and they could make no more out of it than we can; they imagined a thousand things which did not satisfy them in the least."

"Did they say the same things about the dog that you did, Clifton?"

asked the carpenter.

"If they were not talking about the dog," answered Clifton, who was fairly cornered, "they were talking about the captain; it's exactly the same thing, and they confessed it was all very strange."

"Well, my friends," said Bell, "do you want to hear my opinion?"

"What is it!" they all cried.

"It is that there is not, and there will not be, any other captain than Richard Shandon."

"And the letter?" said Clifton.

"The letter was genuine," answered Bell; "it is perfectly true that some unknown person has equipped the _Forward_ for an expedition in the ice; but the ship once off, no one will come on board."

"Well," asked Bolton, "where is the ship going to?"

"I don't know; at the right time, Richard Shandon will get the rest of the instructions."

"But from whom?"

"From whom?"

"Yes, in what way?" asked Bolton, who was becoming persistent.

"Come, Bell, an answer," said the other sailors.

"From whom? in what way? O, I'm sure I don't know!"

"Well, from the dog!" cried Clifton. "He has already written once, and he can again. O, if I only knew half as much as he does, I might be First Lord of the Admiralty!"

"So," added Bolton, in conclusion, "you persist in saying that dog is the captain?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well," said Pen, gruffly, "if that beast doesn't want to die in a dog's skin, he'd better hurry and turn into a man; for, on my word, I'll finish him."

"Why so?" asked Garry.

"Because I want to," answered Pen, brutally; "and I don't care what any one says."

"You have been talking long enough, men," shouted the boatswain, advancing at the moment when the conversation threatened to become dangerous; "to work, and have the saws put in quicker! We must get through the ice."

"Good! on Friday too," answered Clifton, shrugging his shoulders. "You won't find it so easy to cross the Polar Circle."

Whatever the reason may have been, the exertions of the crew on that day were nearly fruitless. The _Forward_, plunging, under a full head of steam, against the floes, could not separate them; they were obliged to lie at anchor that night.

On Sat.u.r.day, the temperature fell still lower under the influence of an east-wind; the sky cleared up, and they all had a wide view over the white expense, which shone brilliantly beneath the bright rays of the sun. At seven o'clock in the morning, the thermometer stood at 8 above zero.

The doctor was tempted to remain quietly in his cabin, or read over the accounts of arctic journeys; but he asked himself, following his usual habit, what would be the most disagreeable thing he could do at that moment. He thought that to go on deck on such a cold day and help the men would not be attractive. So, faithful to his line of conduct, he left his well-warmed cabin, and went out to help tow the ship. He looked strange with his green gla.s.ses, which he wore to protect his eyes against the brilliancy of the sun, and after that he always took good care to wear snow-spectacles as a security against the inflammation of the eyes, which is so common in these lat.i.tudes.

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By evening the _Forward_ had got several miles farther north, thanks to the energy of the men and the intelligence of Shandon, who was quick at utilizing every favorable circ.u.mstance; at midnight they crossed the sixty-sixth parallel, and the lead announcing a depth of twenty-three fathoms, Shandon knew that he was in the neighborhood of the shoal on which her Majesty's ship _Victory_ grounded. Land lay thirty miles to the east.

But then the ma.s.s of ice, which had hitherto been stationary, separated, and began to move; icebergs seemed to rise in all points of the horizon; the brig was caught in a number of whirlpools of irresistible force; controlling her became so hard, that Garry, the best steersman, took the helm; the ma.s.ses began to close behind the brig, hence it was necessary to cut through the ice; both prudence and duty commanded them to go forward. The difficulties were enhanced by the impossibility of Shandon's fixing the direction of the brig among all the changing points, which were continually shifting and presenting no definite point to be aimed at.

The crew were divided into two forces, and one stationed on the starboard, the other on the larboard side; every man was given a long iron-headed pole, with which to ward off threatening pieces of ice.

Soon the _Forward_ entered such a narrow pa.s.sage between two lofty pieces, that the ends of the yards touched its solid walls; gradually it penetrated farther into a winding valley filled with a whirlwind of snow, while the floating ice was crashing ominously all about.

But soon it was evident that there was no outlet to this gorge; a huge block, caught in the channel, was floating swiftly down to the _Forward_; it seemed impossible to escape it, and equally impossible to return through an already closed path.

Shandon and Johnson, standing on the forward deck, were viewing their position. Shandon with his right hand signalled to the man at the wheel what direction he was to take, and with his left hand he indicated to James Wall the orders for the engines.

"What will be the end of this?" asked the doctor of Johnson.

"What pleases G.o.d," answered the boatswain.

The block of ice, eight hundred feet high, was hardly more than a cable's length from the _Forward_, and threatened to crush it.

Pen broke out with a fearful oath.

"Silence!" cried a voice which it was impossible to recognize in the roar of the hurricane.

The ma.s.s appeared to be falling upon the brig, and there was an indefinable moment of terror; the men, dropping their poles, ran aft in spite of Shandon's orders.

Suddenly, a terrible noise was heard; a real water-spout fell on the deck of the brig, which was lifted in the air by a huge wave. The crew uttered a cry of terror, while Garry, still firm at the wheel, kept the course of the _Forward_ steady, in spite of the fearful lurch.

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