CHAPTER IV.THE DOG-CAPTAIN.
The 5th of April, the day of departure, came. The fact that the doctorhad joined the expedition gave some comfort to those on board.Wherever he could go they could follow. Still, most of the sailorswere very uneasy, and Shandon, fearing that their number might bediminished by desertion, was very anxious to get to sea. The land onceout of sight, the men would soon be resigned.
Dr. Clawbonny's cabin was situated on the poop, occupying the extremeafter-part of the ship. The cabins of the captain and mate opened onthe deck. That of the captain was kept tightly closed, after it hadbeen provided with various instruments, furniture, clothing, books,and utensils, all of which had been set down in detail in a letter. Ashe had asked, the key was sent to the captain at Lubeck; so he alonehad admission into the cabin.
This fact annoyed Shandon, and diminished his chances of having chiefcommand. As for his own cabin, he had arranged it suitably for thepresumed voyage, for he knew very well what was necessary for a polarexpedition.
The second mate's cabin was on the lower deck, where the sailors weredomiciled; the crew had very comfortable quarters; they would hardlyhave had such accommodations in any other ship. They were treated asif they were a valuable cargo; a huge stove stood in the middle oftheir sleeping-room.
Dr. Clawbonny was very enthusiastic about it; he took possession ofhis cabin on the 6th of February, the day after the ship was launched.
"The happiest animal in the world," he used to say, "would be a snailwho could make himself just such a shell as he wanted; I shall try tobe an intelligent snail."
And, in fact, for a shell which he was not going to leave for sometime, his cabin presented a very comfortable appearance; the doctortook a scientific or childlike pleasure in arranging his scientificparaphernalia. His books, his specimens, his cases, his instruments,his physical apparatus, his thermometers, barometers, field-glasses,compasses, sextants, charts, drawings, phials, powder, andmedicine-bottles, all were classified in a way which would have donehonor to the British Museum. This space of six feet square containedincalculable wealth; the doctor needed only to stretch out his handwithout rising, to become at once a physician, a mathematician, anastronomer, a geographer, a botanist, or a conchologist.
"This space of six feet square contained incalculablewealth."]
To tell the truth, he was proud of his arrangements, and verycontented in his floating sanctum, which three of his thinnest friendswould have completely filled. They used to crowd there in greatnumbers, so that even so good-natured a man as the doctor wasoccasionally put out; and, like Socrates, he came at last to say,--
"My house is small, but may Heaven grant that it never be filled withfriends!"
To complete our account of the _Forward_, it is only necessary to addthat a kennel for the huge Danish dog was built just beneath thewindow of the closed cabin; but he preferred to keep himself betweendecks and in the hold; it seemed impossible to tame him; no one everconquered his shyness; he could be heard, at night especially, howlingdismally in the ship's hold.
Was it because he missed his master? Had he an instinctive dread ofthe dangers of the voyage? Had he a presentiment of the coming perils?The sailors were sure that he had, and more than one said the same injest, who in his heart regarded the dog as a sort of diabolic animal.
Pen, a very brutal man, one day, while trying to kick him, slipped,and fell on the corner of the capstan in such a way that he cut hishead badly. It is easy to see how the sailors put all the blame uponthe dog.
PEN.]
Clifton, who was the most superstitious man in the crew, made, oneday, the strange observation that the dog, when on the poop, wouldalways walk on the windward side; and afterwards, when the brig was atsea and under sail, this singular animal would shift his position tothe other side after every tack, so as to be windward, as the captainof the _Forward_ would have done.
CLIFTON.]
Dr. Clawbonny, who by his gentleness and caresses would have almosttamed the heart of a tiger, tried in vain to make friends with thedog; he met with no success.
The dog, too, did not answer to any of the usual names of his kind. Sothe men used to call him "Captain," for he seemed perfectly familiarwith all the ways on shipboard. He had evidently been to sea before.
It is hence easy to understand the boatswain's answer to Clifton'sfriend, and how this idea found but few sceptics; more than one wouldrepeat it jestingly, who was fully prepared to see the dog, some fineday, take human shape, and with a loud voice assume command.
If Richard Shandon did not share such apprehensions, he was far frombeing undisturbed, and on the eve of departing, on the night of April5th, he was talking on this subject with the doctor, Wall, andJohnson, in the mess-room.
These four persons were sipping their tenth grog, which was probablytheir last, too; for, in accordance with the letter from Aberdeen, allthe crew, from the captain to the stoker, were teetotalers, nevertouching beer, wine, nor spirits, except in case of sickness, and bythe advice of the doctor.
For an hour past they had been talking about their departure. If thecaptain's instructions were to be completely carried out, Shandonwould the next day receive a letter containing his last orders.
"If that letter," said the mate, "doesn't tell me the captain's name,it must at least tell us whither we are bound. If not, in whatdirection shall we sail?"
"Upon my word," answered the impatient doctor, "if I were in yourplace, Shandon, I should set sail even without getting a letter; onewill come after us, you may be sure."
"You have a great deal of faith, Doctor. But, if you please, to whatpart of the world would you sail?"
"Towards the North Pole, of course; there can be no doubt about that."
"No doubt indeed!" said Wall. "Why not towards the South Pole?"
"The South Pole! Never!" cried the doctor. "Would the captain everhave thought of sending a brig across the whole Atlantic Ocean? Justthink for a moment, my dear Wall."
"The doctor has an answer for everything," was his only reply.
"Granted it's northward," resumed Shandon. "But tell me, Doctor, is itto Spitzbergen, Greenland, or Labrador that we have to sail, or toHudson's Bay? If all these routes come to the same end at last,--theimpassable ice,--there is still a great number of them, and I shouldfind it very hard to choose between them. Have any definite answer tothat, Doctor?"
"No," answered the doctor, annoyed that he had nothing to say; "but ifyou get no letter, what shall you do?"
"I shall do nothing; I shall wait."
"You won't set sail!" cried Clawbonny, twirling his glass in hisdespair.
"No, certainly not."
"That's the best course," said Johnson, mildly; while the doctorwalked around the table, being unable to sit quiet any longer. "Yes,that's the best course; and still, too long a delay might have verydisastrous consequences. In the first place, the season is a good one,and if it's north we are going, we ought to take advantage of the mildweather to get through Davis Straits; besides, the crew will get moreand more impatient; the friends and companions of the men are urgingthem to leave the _Forward_, and they might succeed in playing us avery bad turn."
"And then, too," said James Wall, "if any panic should arise among themen, every one would desert us; and I don't know, Commander, how youcould get together another crew."
"But what is to be done?" cried Shandon.
"What you said," answered the doctor: "wait; but wait till to-morrowbefore you despair. The captain's promises have all been fulfilled sofar with such regularity that we may have the best hopes for thefuture; there's no reason to think that we shall not be told of ourdestination at the proper time. As for me, I don't doubt in the leastthat to-morrow we shall be sailing in the Irish Sea. So, my friends, Ipropose one last drink to a happy voyage; it begins in a mysteriousway, but, with such sailors as you, there are a thousand chances ofits ending well."
And they all touched their glasses for the last time.
"Now, Commander," resumed Johnson, "I have one piece of advice to giveyou, and that is, to make everything ready for sailing. Let the crewthink you are certain of what you are about. To-morrow, whether aletter comes or not, set sail; don't start your fires; the windpromises to hold; nothing will be easier than to get off; take a piloton board; at the ebb of the tide leave the docks; then anchor beyondBirkenhead Point; the crew will have no more communication with theland; and if this devilish letter does come at last, it can find usthere as well as anywhere."
"Well said, Johnson!" exclaimed the doctor, reaching out his hand tothe old sailor.
"That's what we shall do," answered Shandon.
Each one then withdrew to his cabin, and took what sleep he could gettill morning.
The next day the first distribution of letters took place in the city,but there was none for Commander Richard Shandon.
Nevertheless he made his preparations for departure; the news spreadimmediately throughout the city, and, as we have seen, a greatconcourse of spectators thronged the piers of the New Prince's Docks.
"The news spread immediately throughout the city, and agreat concourse of spectators thronged the piers."]
A great many people came on board the brig,--some to bid a friend goodby, or to urge him to leave the ship, or to gaze at this strangevessel; others to ascertain the object of the voyage; and there weremany murmurs at the unusual silence of the commander.
For that he had his reasons.
Ten o'clock struck. Eleven. The tide was to turn at half past twelve.Shandon, from the upper deck, gazed with anxious eyes at the crowd,trying in vain to read on some one's face the secret of his fate. Butin vain. The sailors of the _Forward_ obeyed his orders in silence,keeping their eyes fixed upon him, ever awaiting some informationwhich he did not give.
Johnson was finishing the preparations for setting sail. The day wasovercast, and the sea, outside of the docks, rather high; a stiffsouthwest breeze was blowing, but they could easily leave the Mersey.
At twelve o'clock still nothing. Dr. Clawbonny walked up and downuneasily, looking about, gesticulating, and "impatient for the sea,"as he said. In spite of all he could do, he felt excited. Shandon bithis lips till the blood came.
At this moment Johnson came up to him and said,--
"Commander, if we are going to take this tide, we must lose no time;it will be a good hour before we can get off from the docks."
Shandon cast one last glance about him, and looked at his watch. Itwas after the time of the midday distribution of letters.
"Cast off!" he said to his boatswain.
"All ashore who are going!" cried the latter, ordering the spectatorsto leave the deck of the _Forward_.
Thereupon the crowd, began to move toward the gangway and make its wayon to the quay, while the crew began to cast off the last moorings.
At once the inevitable confusion of the crowd, which was pushed aboutwithout much ceremony by the sailors, was increased by the barking ofthe dog. He suddenly sprang from the forecastle right through the massof visitors, barking sullenly.
All made way for him. He sprang on the poop-deck, and, incredible asit may seem, yet, as a thousand witnesses can testify, thisdog-captain carried a letter in his mouth.
"A letter!" cried Shandon; "but is _he_ on board?"
"_He_ was, without doubt, but he's not now," answered Johnson, showingthe deck cleared of the crowd.
"Here, Captain! Captain!" shouted the doctor, trying to take theletter from the dog, who kept springing away from him. He seemed towant to give the letter to Shandon himself.
"Here, Captain!" he said.
The dog went up to him; Shandon took the letter without difficulty,and then Captain barked sharply three times, amid the profound silencewhich prevailed on board the ship and along the quay.
Shandon held the letter in his hand, without opening it.
"Read it, read it!" cried the doctor. Shandon looked at it. Theaddress, without date or place, ran simply,--"Commander RichardShandon, on board the brig _Forward_."
Shandon opened the letter and read:--
You will sail towards Cape Farewell. You will reach it April 20. Ifthe captain does not appear on board, you will pass through DavisStrait and go up Baffin's Bay as far as Melville Sound.
K. Z.,_Captain of the Forward_.
Shandon folded carefully this brief letter, put it in his pocket, andgave the order to cast off. His voice, which arose alone above theroaring of the wind, sounded very solemn.
Soon the _Forward_ had left the docks, and under the care of a pilot,whose boat followed at a distance, put out into the stream. The crowdhastened to the outer quay by the Victoria Docks to get a last look atthe strange vessel. The two topsails, the foresail, and staysail weresoon set, and under this canvas the _Forward_, which well deserved itsname, after rounding Birkenhead Point, sailed away into the Irish Sea.