CHAPTER VI.
The Old Man meets the Little People under PeculiarCircumstances, and relates to them how the Young Man,being cast away in the Cold, rescued a Shipmate, andalso other Matters, which, if put into this Title, wouldspoil the Story altogether.
This time Captain Hardy was not to be caught napping, as on the previousday. Indeed, he was out looking for his young friends even before thetime. "If they don't come soon," said he to himself, "I'll go afterthem";--and they did not come soon, at least the Captain thought theywere a long time in coming, and he started off, if not after them, atleast to look after them. When he had reached the brow of the hill fromwhich both the Captain's and Mr. Earnest's houses could be seen, the oldman discovered the children coming down one of the winding paths whichled through Mr. Earnest's grounds. It was some moments before they sawthe Captain, and when they did see him there was much wondering what hadhappened to bring him up so far on the hill.
"Why, what's the matter with him?" exclaimed William. "Look, he'sflinging up his hat!"--and the little people set off upon a rapid run.
Meanwhile the Captain stood on the brow of the hill, whirling round histarpaulin hat with the long blue ribbons flying wildly in the wind. Whenthe children came nearer, they heard the old man calling loudly to them,"Come, my hearties, you are slow to-day. Be lively, or we'll lose thechance."
"What chance?" asked William, when they had come up with him.
"The wind, the wind,--why, don't you see there's a spankin' breeze? Iwas afraid we'd lose our sail, so I came to hurry you up."
"Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted both the boys together; and without furtherado the Captain hurried the little people along with him down throughthe woods to the water.
The old man had been down there before, and had everything in readiness.The little yacht was lying close beside the little wharf. "Look sharpnow, and be lively," exclaimed the Captain as he helped them one by oneaboard; and then he got in himself, and shoved the yacht off from thelanding, and with the assistance of a singular-looking boy, whom theCaptain called "Main Brace," he spread the sails, and the lively craftwas soon skimming over the waters, carrying as lively a party as everset out on an afternoon frolic. "Jolly" was the only word which seemedat all to express the children's pleasure, and if the boys said "it'sjolly" once, they must have said it fifty times at least; while littleAlice exhibited her excitement by jumping from one side of the boat tothe other, stopping now and then to lean over the side and watch thelittle waves gurgling past them, sometimes dipping her delicate handsinto the water, and screaming with delight when the spray flew over her.
The party were seated (when seated at all) in what is called the "sternsheets," that is, on the seat in the open space behind the cabinheretofore described,--the good-natured and kindly Captain in the midstof them, firmly holding the helm or tiller of his boat, and guiding itwith steady hand wherever he wished it to go, cracking a pleasant jokenow and then, and enjoying in all the fulness of his big, warm heart thejoyous delight of his young guests. And he was in no hurry to stop thesport, for he ran on clear across the harbor, and then said he would"'bout ship," and put back again.
"What's 'bout ship?" inquired William.
"That's going about on the other tack," replied the Captain.
"What's going about on the other tack?" asked William, as wise as he wasbefore.
"I'll show you," said the Captain. "Now see here: first I give theproper order, as if somebody else was giving it to me, and I was the manat the wheel: 'Hard-a-lee,' do you observe;--now look, I put the helmdown as far as I can jam it,--there;--look now, how that turns the boatand brings her up into the wind,--you see the sails begin toshiver,--the wind is blowing right in your faces now;--now we haveturned nearly round; the boat, you see, has come up on an evenkeel,--level, you know;--now look out sharp for your heads there,--theboom is going to jibe over to the other side;--there, don't you seewe've turned round,--that house over there near the beach that wasalmost ahead of us is now behind us. There goes the boom,--bang! Therefills the sail, see it bulging out,--the jib, you see, shakes a littleyet,--but there she goes now filled out like the other; and now you seeI've got the helm back where I had it before, in the middle, 'steady,'you know, and there goes the _Alice_ off on the starboard tack, and aneasy bowline back towards the Mariner's Rest again. Wasn't that nicelydone?"
"Splendid! splendid!" cried William; "I wish I could do it."
"I'll teach you,--it's easy learned," answered the Captain; "but lookout there, or you'll go overboard; get up to windward, and trim theboat; you see we are leaning over to the other side now."
And thus the Captain kept on "tacking" across the harbor, going to andfro, for more than an hour, enjoying every minute of it just as much asthe children did. When at length, however, the children began to quietdown a little (the sharp edge of novelty being worn off), the Captainran into shoal water, and brought his boat's head once more up into thewind; but this time, instead of letting her head "pay" off to starboard,he steered her right into the wind's eye, with the sails shivering allthe time, until the boat stopped, when he cried out to Main Brace to"let go the anchor," which Main Brace did promptly, with an "Ay, ay,sir!" and then he "clewed" up the sails, and spread a white and redstriped and red-fringed awning over the place where they were seated,and said he was now going on with the story. "Isn't this a tip-topplace," said he, "for story-telling?" And the children all said it was"tip-top," and "jolly," and "grand," and made many little speeches aboutit, which to put down here would make this account so long thateverybody would get tired before getting to the end of it.
"Now I call this a much better place than the 'Crow's Nest,'" went onthe Captain; "for, don't you see, when we knocked off yesterday I wasstanding in the middle of the sea, on a great ice-raft. To be sure weare not exactly in the middle of the sea here, nor on an ice-rafteither, but we are on salt water, and that's where I like to be. The airis better for the wits, and the tongue too, for that matter, than on theland there, which is a good enough place to be when there is no wind;but I like to be on the water, and have plenty of sea-room, when thewind blows, especially when it blows a gale,--for on land, at suchtimes, I'm always afraid that the trees will blow over on me, or thehouse will blow down on my head, or some dreadful accident will happen,whereas on the sea one has no fears at all; and besides, at sea one isalways at home,--come rain or shine, he's always his house with him, andnever has to go groping about for shelter."
"Only you mustn't be in the forecastle," put in cunning William, whoremembered the Captain's fright when he first found himself at sea inthe _Blackbird_.
"Never mind that, lad," replied the Captain, "I was only a boy then, andhadn't come to years of discretion. I've made better friends with thesea since that day. But let us go on, or we'll never get through withthis story, any more than the Flying Dutchman will get into port, thoughhe keeps on beating up and down forever; and as for to-day, why, we'llleave off just where we began, like thieves in a treadmill, if we don'tget started pretty soon.
* * * * *
"Well, you see, as I was saying, you left me standing on an ice-raft inthe middle of the Arctic Sea, cast away in a cold and forbidding place,and all alone. My shipmates were all either drowned or killed outrightby the falling ice, so far at least as I knew. The prospect ahead wasnot a pleasing one, for of course, as I think I have said before, thefirst thought which crossed my mind was, that I should starve or freezeto death very soon. I was greatly astonished by what had happened, andindeed it was hard for me to believe my senses, so suddenly had thisgreat disaster come upon me. I stood staring into the mist, andlistening to the terrible sounds which came out of it, as one petrified;yet after a little time I recovered myself sufficiently to realize mysituation. The instinct of life is strong in every living thing, andyoung sailor-boys are no exception to the rule; so, after I had stood inthe presence of this frightful chaos for I have not the least idea howlong, I began to think what I should do
to save myself.
"The waves which had been raised after a while began steadily tosubside, and, as the sea became more calm, I found that I could approachnearer to where the wreck had happened by jumping over some of thecracks which had been made in the ice, and walking across piece afterpiece of it. These pieces were all in motion, rolling on the swell ofthe sea, and, the farther I went, of course the greater the motionbecame. I had to proceed cautiously, and when I jumped from one fragmentof ice to another, I was obliged to look carefully what I was about, forif I missed my footing I should fall into the sea, and be either drownedor ground up by the moving ice.
"Had the iceberg all gone to pieces at once, the sea would soon havebecome quiet; but it was evident from the noises which reached me that aconsiderable part of the berg was still holding together, and waswallowing in the sea in consequence of its equilibrium being disturbedby the first crash, and was still keeping the waters moving. I couldindeed vaguely see this remaining fragment, swaying to right and left,and I could also perceive that, with every roll, fresh masses werebreaking off, with loud reports, like the crash of artillery. I could,however, discover nothing of the ship nor either of the boats. I wasable to detect, even at a considerable distance, some fragments of icefloating and rolling about, when the fog would clear up a little; and,as I peered into the gloom, I thought at one time that I saw a manstanding upon one of them. It was but a moment, for the fog closed uponthe object, whatever it may have been, and it vanished as a spectralfigure.
"My eyes were strained to catch a further glimpse of this object, butnothing more was to be seen of it. From this my attention was soonattracted by a dark mass which had drifted upon the edge of the brokenice, not far to the right of the place where I had been standing whenthe boat left me. I soon made this out to be some part of the wreck ofthe ship. In a few moments I could clearly see that it was a piece of amast; then I could plainly distinguish the 'foretop.' Each succeedingwave was forcing it higher and higher out of the water, and Idiscovered, after a few moments, that other timbers were attached to it,and that beside these were sails and ropes, making of the whole aconsiderable mass.
"After observing this fragment of the wreck attentively for some time, Ithought I perceived a man moving among the tangled collection of timbersand ropes and sails, endeavoring to extricate himself. Whatever it mightbe, it was some distance above the sea,--so high, indeed, that the wavesno longer washed it fairly,--only the spray.
"It soon became clear to me that my suspicions that this was a man werecorrect; and being more convinced that one of my shipmates at least wasyet alive, I rushed forward to rescue him if possible, without oncestopping to give a thought to the risks I would encounter. It was clearthat he could not liberate himself.
"You will remember that I was now standing on a fragment of ice whichhad been broken off from the solid ice-field by the waves. It was one ofa number of similar fragments, all lying more or less close together,and between me and the place where I had been standing when the wavesbegan to subside, and the ice ceased to break up. Before me the ice wasin the same broken condition as behind me, only, being nearer the openwater, the pieces were rolling more, so that there was much greaterdanger in springing from piece to piece. Without, however, pausing toreflect upon this circumstance, I rushed forward as fast as I could go,jumping with ease over every obstacle in my way, until I was on thepiece of ice that held up the end of the tangled wreck. I had evidentlyarrived in the very nick of time, for the wreck was, instead of comingfarther up, now beginning to sink back into the sea.
Rescued from the Wreck.]
"What I had taken for a man proved to be one, or, as I soon found out, aboy,--the cabin-boy of the ship, a light, pale-faced lad, and onlyfourteen years old. The boy was evidently fast in some way among therigging, and had been trying to free himself. As I came closer, Iobserved that he was entirely quiet, and had sunk out of view. Quick asthought I mounted up into the wreck, and then I saw the boy with a ropetangled round his leg, and lying quite insensible. Underneath himanother man was lying, much mutilated, and evidently quite dead. As Iwas mounting up, a wave washed in under the wreck, but I escaped withonly a little spray flying over me, which, however, did not wet memuch. It was but the work of a moment to whip out my knife, which Icarried in a belt, like every other sailor, and cut the rope which boundthe boy down, and which he had tried in vain to loosen. After this I hadno further difficulty, and, seizing the boy around the waist with onearm (he was very light even for his years), I clambered out of the wreckto the ice without getting much more water upon me, and, hurrying off,did not stop until I had jumped with my burden across several cracks,and ran across several pieces of ice, reaching a place of present safetyon the unbroken or fast ice. Here I laid down my insensible burden, alldripping with the cold water, and in a state of great anxiety I bentover the boy. At first I thought that he was dead, but it was soon clearthat this was not the case, for he was breathing, although slowly, yetfreely. Out from his wet hair a little blood was oozing, and uponexamining the spot I found that there was a bad bruise there, and thatthe skin was broken, though there was not a serious cut. This wasclearly the cause of his present unconsciousness, as his breathingseemed conclusively to show that he had managed to keep his head abovewater, and had not been brought to his present state by drowning. Itoccurred to me that the blow had simply stunned him, and that it hadcome almost at the moment I arrived to rescue him. I could not perceivethat the skull was fractured, and I felt convinced that, if the boycould be warmed and allowed to lie at rest, he would after a while cometo his senses. To this conclusion I arrived while leaning over the poorfellow, examining his hurt, while he lay on the chilly ice, never oncethinking where I was, and all the while calling frantically to him; butI might as well have called to a stone. When I rose up, fully impressedwith the necessity of securing for the lad rest and warmth, and fullyrealized, for the first time, my powerless situation (that I was evenapparently unable to save myself, still less the boy), my heart seemedto give way entirely, and I sank down once more beside him. A prayer toHeaven for succor, which I had no thought could ever come to me, rose tomy lips, and at that very moment a ray of hope dawned upon me. The greatfog was breaking away, the bright sun was scattering the mists, and landwas bursting through it near at hand. Light, fleecy clouds were rollingup above the sea, and, as they floated off before a gentle wind, a blazeof sunshine burst through an opening in them and fell upon myself andthe boy whose life I had, at least for the present, saved.
"I could now look out over the sea for a considerable distance. Althoughthere was still much confusion, yet the ice was steadily quieting down,and the waves caused by it were subsiding rapidly. But a change not lessmarked had taken place in the space between where I stood and the openwater. The wreck from which I had rescued the boy had settled back intothe sea, and the fragments of ice were separating and floating off. HadI delayed a few minutes longer, I should never have reached the fastice, but should have drifted off upon the dark waters, as the man haddone whom I saw standing in the fog that I have told you of before.
"As the fog cleared up more and more, the land which first appearedstood out boldly, and the sea was visible over a range of many miles. Itwas dotted all over with fragments of ice and numerous icebergs, many ofwhich reached up into the disappearing mists, looking like whitemountains in miniature, with clouds drifting across their summits. Theland did not appear to be more than a mile distant from me, and it wasevident that I stood upon ice which was fast to it. Indeed, when I wasfirst cast upon this ice, I might have known, had I paused to reflect,that land must be very near, as the name 'fast ice' indicates clearly ofitself that simple fact.
"With this lighting up of the air, various thoughts came into my mind.First, could I get to the land and save the boy as well as myself;secondly, could I aid anybody else; and thirdly, could I save anythingof the wreck out of the sea. These last two reflections were quicklydisposed of, for although I could see many fragments of the wreck, nonew
ere within reach, and no other person was in sight,--ship and boats andmen were all gone down before the crushing avalanche, and nothing wasleft but myself and a senseless boy.
"I must here pause to tell you that, although we were in the Arcticregions, and on the ice, the weather was not cold, the time being themiddle of the summer. Of course the dense fog made the air damp andchilly, but, as I have said, not exactly cold. My shipmates, before thewreck happened, never dressed in anything warmer than the usual woollenclothing, and seldom wore coats. For some reason, I do not exactlyremember why, I had, upon going on deck from breakfast that fatalmorning, in addition to my ordinary coat, put on a heavy pilot-clothovercoat, which had been furnished me by the master of the ship,--theprice of it to be deducted from my wages. And it was most fortunate thatI had put this coat on, for it now served a good purpose in wrapping upthe boy.
"Seeing that there was now nothing to be gained by longer delay on theice, I picked up the boy in my arms and started for the land. It maystrike you as somewhat strange that I should have gone about it socalmly, or indeed that I did not fall down in despair, and at once giveup the hope of saving myself when there was so little, or rather no,apparent prospect of it before me. But for this there were some verynatural reasons. In the first place, the thought of saving the boy'slife kept my mind from dwelling too much upon my own misfortunes; andthen, the hope of finding the land which had come in sight out of thefog inhabited, stimulated my courage, and inspired exertion.
"Although the boy was not heavy, yet I found that in the distance I hadto carry him I grew much fatigued; but the necessity for haste made mestrong, and to save the boy's life seemed now much more desirable thanto save my own, inasmuch as if the boy died, and I survived him, andcould in any way manage to live on, I should be in a worse conditionthan if dead, as it appeared to me,--being all alone.
"As I approached very near the land, I became much alarmed bydiscovering that a considerable space of water, partly filled withfragments of ice, intervened between me and the shore; but, afterholding to the right for a little distance, I came at length to a spotwhere the ice was firmly in contact with the land, and, after climbingover some very rough masses which had been squeezed up along the shore,I got at last upon the rocks, and then on a patch of green grass, whereI laid down the insensible boy in the blazing sun.
"What was I now to do? The boy was yet in very much the same conditionthat he was when I set out with him for the shore. Meanwhile more thanhalf an hour must have elapsed, during which time the boy was wrapped inhis wet clothes, which, to a man in the full possession of his senses,would have been prostrating enough. It seemed to me that he was sinkingunder the effects of the blow which he had received, and the wet clotheswhich were on his body. I had, however, the gratification of knowingthat I was on firm land, and away from the cold ice. The grass was warm,and the air, as I have said, was scarcely chilly. Under these improvedconditions it was clearly better to expose the boy's body wholly to theair than to allow him to remain in his wet clothes. The first thing,therefore, which I did was to divest myself of my own clothing, in orderthat I might give my warm underclothing to the boy. This left formyself only my pantaloons and my coat. After buttoning the coat tightlyround me, I undressed the boy, and rubbed his body with such parts ofthe tail of my overcoat as his clothes had not wetted while carryinghim, and, this done, I drew on to him my shirt and drawers, and then,pulling up the grass, I heaped that about him, and over this threw mydamp overcoat,--the grass preventing it from touching him. All thisoccupied but a few minutes, for I worked with the energy of despair. Ithen set to rubbing and pounding his feet and hands which were verycold, to get some circulation back into them.
"I had now done all that it was possible for me to do for the presenttowards the restoration of my poor companion, who still remained inprecisely the same insensible state as before, and I now determined tolook about me and ascertain if there were any evidences of human beingsliving near at hand.
"The scene around me was dreary enough to strike terror into a stouterheart than mine; and, when I had fully viewed it, I had to confess thatit did not seem probable that any living thing, not to mention humanbeings, could possibly be there. The first thought I had was to shoutand halloo again and again at the very top of my voice; but no answerreached me except the echo of my own words in a deep and dark gorgeclose by. This echo startled me and made me afraid, though I never couldtell why. My loud calling had failed to produce any impression upon theboy whatever, and I felt sure that he was going to die. Without exactlyknowing what I did, or what I was doing it for, I now ran to the rightover the green grass, and then over rough stones up to a considerableelevation, and commenced hallooing again, when, much to my astonishment,I heard a great fluttering and loud sounds right below and withinthirty feet of me. I sprang back as if some terrible enemy had attackedme; but I recovered myself in an instant, when I observed that thefluttering came from a number of birds which rose from among the rocks.The birds were brown and quite large, and I knew at once that they wereeider-ducks, for I had seen them frequently before, while in the ship,and the sailors had told me their name.
"Without having any distinct motive in doing so, I went down to wherethe birds had risen, when still others rose before me in great numbers.The rapidity of their flight, and the loud noise which they made,startled others still farther away, and thus flock after flock kept onrising from among the rocks, screaming, and flapping their wings in avery loud manner. Several hundreds, perhaps thousands of them, must havethus got upon their wings and commenced sailing overhead.
"You must know that the eider-duck, in order to protect its eggs fromthe air when it goes off to get for food the little fish that it catchesin the sea, plucks from its breast the fine feathers called _down_, inwhich it buries its eggs very carefully. In each of the nests I foundthere was a good handful of this down, and the thought at once occurredto me to gather a quantity of it, and cover the boy with it. I went towork immediately, and collected a great armful of it, and, hastening towhere the boy was, I deposited it, and then hurried back for more. In avery short time I had accumulated a great pile, and, spreading a thicklayer of it out close beside the boy, I drew him over upon it, and thencovered him completely, and spread my overcoat as I had done before.
"The value of putting this discovery to prompt use was soon seen. Theboy, from being cold almost as a corpse, began to show some symptoms ofreturning warmth. His breathing seemed to be more rapid and free, andhis eyelids began to move a little, though they did not fully open forsome time; but it was then only for an instant, and I was not certainwhether he recognized me or not. I called to him loudly by name, Irubbed his forehead, I pounded his hands, but he gave no furtherrecognition; yet he was getting more and more warm, and in thiscircumstance I rested my hope.
"Having accomplished this much, and feeling pretty sure that the boywould recover in the end, my mind very naturally fell back upon thecontemplation of my own unhappy condition. I moved a few steps from theboy, and sat down upon a rock overlooking the sea. There was nothingthere to inspire me with courage, when this question came uppermost inmy mind: 'Suppose the boy does recover from his present stupor, how arewe going to live?' Could anybody indeed be in a more sorry state? Let meenumerate:--
"1st. I had been shipwrecked,--a fortune usually considered bad enoughunder any circumstances.
"2d. I had lost all of my companions except a feeble boy whom I hadrescued from death, and who was now helpless on my hands.
"3d. I was cast away on a desert land, I knew not where, but very fartowards the North Pole, as was clear enough from the immense quantitiesof ice which whitened the sea before me.
"4th. I was chilly, and had no fire nor means of making any. Nor had Isufficient clothing to cover me.
"5th. I was hungry, and had no food nor means of obtaining any.
"6th. I was thirsty, and had nothing to drink, nor could I discoveranything.
"7th. I was without house or hut to shelter me.
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"8th. I was without weapons to defend myself against the attacks of wildbeasts, if any there should be to molest me.
"To counteract these evils I had four things, namely:--
"1st. Life.
"2d. The clothes on my back.
"3d. A jack-knife.
"4th. The mercy of Providence.
"And this was all! What chance was there for me?
"Little enough, one would think. And, in truth, there did not seem to beany at all. When I thought of all this, I buried my face in my hands,and moaned aloud, and the big tears began to gather in my eyes."
* * * * *
"O, wasn't it awful!" exclaimed William.
"I don't see what you _could_ do, Captain Hardy," exclaimed Fred.
"The poor boy," exclaimed Alice,--"I hope he didn't die. Did he, CaptainHardy?"--and the child began to imitate the example set by John Hardy,when he rested on the rock and looked out upon the icy sea andspeculated upon the chances of his ever seeing again the home from whichhe had so foolishly run away.
"Well, I'll tell you about that some other time," answered the Captain."You may be sure I didn't die, at any rate, whatever may have happenedto the boy; but just now I can tell you no more, for look there at thatcloud coming up out of the sea, appearing, for all the world, as if itmeant to pipe a squall after us, by and by; and now, with your leave,we'll slip home while the play's good. So here goes. Up anchor."
"Ay, ay, sir," answered William, as he jumped forward very unnecessarilyto help Main Brace, to whom the order to "up anchor" was given.
"Halloo!" cried the Captain. "Turned sailor already, eh?"
While Main Brace and William were getting in the anchor, the Captain wasstowing away the awning, and then, the yacht being free, he spread thesails, and with his helm brought her to the wind; and there being now alively breeze, the party were not long in crossing over to the Captain'sanchoring-ground, where he turned so as to stop her as he had donebefore, and then cried out, "Stand by to let go the anchor," to whichWilliam answered, "Ay, ay, sir!" and when the boat had stopped, theCaptain cried out again, "Let go," and William answered, "Ay, ay!"again, and let it go. Then, as soon as the Captain had secured his yachtand stowed away the sails, the whole party hurried ashore, and up thepath to the Captain's cottage, for already great drops of rain werebeginning to patter on the leaves, and the roaring wind was heard amongthe forest trees, giving the first warning cry of a coming shower.