One ship visible,staggering along with but little sail on her.
It was near sunset when Captain Blunt came below to the cabin of the_Gloaming Star_. "It is a bitter night, Leonard," he said, rubbing hishand and chafing his ears. "The wind is as cold as ever we felt it inGreenland."
"Blowing right off the ice, isn't it?"
"Yes, with a bit of west in it, and I do think somehow that the wind ofthe Antarctic is keener, rawer, and colder than any that ever blowsacross the pack at the other Pole."
Soon after this Leonard himself went on deck. Here was his friendDouglas, muffled up in a monkey-jacket with a sou'-wester on his head,and great woollen gloves on his hands, tramping up and down the deck asif for a wager.
"How do you like it, Doug?"
"Ha!" said Douglas, "you're laughing, are you? Well, your watch comeson at four in the morning. There won't be much laughing then, lad. Howdelightful the warm bed will seem when--"
"There, there, Douglas, pray don't bring your imagination to bear on it.It will be bad enough without that."
The two now walked up and down together, only stopping occasionally togaze at the sky.
There was little pleasure in looking weatherward, however, only a clearsky there now, with the jagged waves for an uneven shifting horizon, butwhere the sun had gone down the view was inexpressibly lovely. Thebackground beneath was saturnine red, shading into a yellow-green, andhigher up into a dark blue, and yonder shone a solitary star, one glanceat which never failed to carry our sailors' thoughts homeward.
Now something over three years had elapsed since the _Gloaming Star_sailed away from the Clyde, since the wild Arran hills were last seen inthe sunset's rays, and the rocky coast of this romantic island had grownhazy and faint, and faded at last from view.
Years of wandering and adventure they had been, too--years during whichmany a gale had been weathered, here and there in many lands, and many adifficulty boldly faced and overcome.
As our two heroes, Leonard and Douglas, walk up and down the deck, andthe wind blows loud and keen from off the Antarctic ice, I will try torecount a few of those adventures, though to tell them all would beimpossible. I will but dip into their logs, and read you off theentries on a few of the leaves thereof.
OPENING THE LOG AT RANDOM.
I open the log at random, as it were, and first and foremost I find thewanderers--where? Why, among the Rocky Mountains. The _Gloaming Star_is safe and sound in New York harbour, under the charge of no less apersonage than Rory O'Reilly himself, who is second mate of her.
To cross the vast stretch of country that lies between the AtlanticOcean and this wild mountain range was in those days a daring deed initself. As long as they were in the midst of comparative civilisationthey were safe, but this once left behind, with only the rolling prairiein front of them, hills, glens, woods, and forests, and a network ofstreams, the danger was such that many a brave man would have shrunktherefrom.
There were friendly tribes of Indians, it is true, but there were otherswho hated the white man with an implacable hatred. And this hatred, itis only right to add, was returned with interest. It is terrible tothink that the red man was looked upon in those days as if the brand ofCain were carved on his brow, so that whoever should meet him shouldkill him; that he was hunted down even as the wild beasts were hunted,and that the war declared against him was one of extermination, one tothe bitter end.
On the other hand, the cruelties practised by the Indians on their whitebrethren of the outlying districts, when they succeeded in capturing astation or fort, were such as one cannot read of without a shudder ofhorror and a feeling of anger as well.
But our heroes and their party, including Captain Blunt, five friendlyIndians, and a trapper--a Yankee of the real old school and a thoroughbackwoodsman--had made the long journey in safety. The mules that hadcarried their packs were even now quietly feeding in a rude enclosure,near the log hut which had been a home to the party for months.
But although these wanderers did not fear danger, they knew it existed,and no sooner had they arrived in the woodland glen close by a beautifulriver, than they proceeded to make their encampment as like a fort asthey could. Strong were their arms to work, and willing were theirhearts. To Leonard and Douglas there was something quite delightful inthis new free, wild life of independence; fishing by lonely streams,wandering through the still, quiet forests, or bearding the wild beastsin their favourite haunts. The very knowledge that hostile Indiansmight be encountered at any time only added a zest to their adventures.
But before they, entered into their sports with earnestness, theyfortified the site they had chosen as a camp. The trees were cut downall round, and a complete rampart, with ditch and drawbridge, waserected.
When all was complete the sport began in earnest; but it was not sportfor the simple sake of killing. No, for they slew and fished but tofill their larder, and lay up a wealth of skins, which would help to payfor this pleasant outing when they returned to the great city of NewYork. Thereupon bears and beavers became their especial prey, to saynothing of innumerable furry denizens of forest, hill, and river bank.
LIFE IN THE ROCKIES.
They had arrived at the Rockies in early summer, and long before the hotseason was at its hottest, long before the time came when at middayhardly would you have heard a sound in the woods, except the singing ofthe river that went rippling over its pebbly bed, or tumbling inminiature cataracts over rocks, and falling into deep dark poolsbeneath, where dwelt the largest trout, and near which, mayhap, thebeaver had his haunt--long before midsummer, they were so perfectly athome that they felt no wish to leave the lovely glen. Both Leonard andDouglas were of those who dearly love--
"--The haunts of Nature; Love the sunshine of the meadow, Love the shadow of the forest, Love the wind among the branches.
"And the rain-shower and the snowstorm, And the rushing of great rivers, Through their palisades of pine trees, And the thunder in the mountains."
They loved Nature, and Nature seemed to love them, for even the wildbirds appeared to sing to them,--
"In the moorlands and the fenlands, In the melancholy marshes,--"
While the wild flowers told their tales in a language that only poetsunderstand, whispered to them of their loves and sorrows,--
"In green and silent valleys, By pleasant water-courses."
Among the deep, dark forest glens, in the canons, and in caves among thebush that clad the mountain sides, lived in those days bears--chieflythe grizzly and cinnamon bear--far more fierce than any that are nowfound in the same quarter. It has been said, and with a good deal oftruth, that bears seldom attack a man. There are exceptions to allrules, as the following adventure will prove. It was a lovely day inAugust. Our wanderers had gone out in two parties, Captain Blunt,Douglas, and a few Indians being together, and Leonard with the Yankeetrapper and one Indian by themselves. The sport for a time was _nil_.It was the hottest hour of the day, and every creature was shelteringfrom the fierce sunlight. Hardly knowing or caring what he did or wherehe went, Leonard went straggling up a mountain side, studying theflowers and the strange pieces of ore that lay here and there in alldirections.
He was in the act of picking up one of these last when a coughing noisein the bush close by made him start and stand at once to arms. There,not twenty yards from him, and rapidly advancing, was a huge grizzly.Hardly had he time to bring his gun to the shoulder ere the monsterprepared to spring. By Heaven's own mercy Leonard fired in time. Theroar changed to a choking one, and the bear spat blood; he turned tofly, Leonard following fast behind him. He managed to fire again erethe brute headed away for a canon at some distance--fired, but in hishurry missed. All along down the hill, after reloading, he tracked thebear by his blood. And all along the grassy canon bottom till halfwayup, where it was evident the grizzly had climbed to his cave.
It was foolhardy of him to follow, but he was excited, and in a minutemore he was at the cave mouth. In th
e darkness he could see the angrygleam of the monster's eyes; and at these he took aim, and fired. Heremembered the roar the bear gave, then all was a mist. He was found bythe Yankee trapper lying insensible at the cliff foot, the bear deadbeside him.
Leonard got small praise for this exploit.
"It ain't sport," the Yankee told him, "it's idiocy; there ain't anothername for it. You've done it once, but I guess it isn't in you to do itagain and live."
One other adventure is worth relating, but in this instance it wasDouglas who had a narrow escape. The dogs, of which they had several,had chased and treed an immense cougar or puma. This is but anothername for the American lion, now I fear all but extinct. Why he had runfrom the dogs is a mystery, but there he was standing almost erect on abranch, and looking proudly and defiantly down. Douglas's approach, gunin hand, however, was the signal for resistance. The brute