CHAPTER TWENTY TWO.
"THE ARCTIC SUN"--RATS! RATS! RATS!--A HUNTING-PARTY--OUT ON THEFLOES--HARDSHIPS.
Among the many schemes that were planned and carried out for lighteningthe long hours of confinement to their wooden home in the Arcticregions, was the newspaper started by Fred Ellice, and named, as we havealready mentioned, _The Arctic Sun_.
It was so named because, as Fred stated in his first leading article, itwas intended to throw light on many things at a time when there was noother sun to cheer them. We cannot help regretting that it is not inour power to present a copy of this well-thumbed periodical to ourreaders; but being of opinion that _something_ is better than _nothing_,we transcribe the following extract as a specimen of the contributionsfrom the forecastle. It was entitled--
"John Buzzby's Oppinyuns o' Things in Gin'ral."
"Mr Editer,--As you was so good as to ax from me a contribootion toyour waluable peeryoddical, I beg heer to stait that this heer articleis intended as a gin'ral summery o' the noos wots agoin'. Your reederswill be glad to no that of late the wether's bin gittin' colder, butthey'll be better pleased to no that before the middle o' nixt sumerit's likely to git a long chawk warmer. There's a gin'ral complaintheer that Mivins has bin eatin' the shuger in the pantry, an' that'swot's makin' it needfull to put us on short allowance. Davie Summerssais he seed him at it, and it's a dooty the guvermint owes to thepublik to have the matter investigated. It's gin'rally expected,howsever, that the guvermint won't trubble its hed with the matter.There's bin an onusual swarmin' o' rats in the ship of late, an' DavieSummers has had a riglar hunt after them. The lad has becum more thanornar expert with his bow an' arrow, for he niver misses now--exceptin'always, when he dusn't hit--an' for the most part takes them on the pinton the snowt with his blunt-heded arow, which he drives in--the snowt,not the arow. There's a gin'ral wish among the crew to no whether thenorth pole _is_ a pole or a dot. Mizzle sais it's a dot and O'Rileyswears (no, he don't do that, for we've gin up swearin' in thefog-sail); but he sais that it's a real post 'bout as thick again as themain-mast, an' nine or ten times as hy. Grim sais it's nother wun thingnor anuther, but a hydeear that _is_ sumhow or other a fact, but yitdon't exist at all. Tom Green wants to no if there's any conexshunbetween it an' the pole that's connected with elections. In fact, we'reall at sea, in a riglar muz abut this, an' as Dr Singleton's asyentiffick man, praps he'll give us a leadin' article in your nixt--sono more at present from--
"Yours to command, John Buzzby."
This contribution was accompanied with an outline illustration of Mivinseating sugar with a ladle in the pantry, and Davie Summers peeping in atthe door--both likenesses being excellent.
Some of the articles in the _Arctic Sun_ were grave, and some were gay,but all of them were profitable, for Fred took care that they should becharged either with matter of interest or matter provocative of mirth.And, assuredly, no newspaper of similar calibre was ever looked forwardto with such expectation, or read and reread with such avidity. It wasone of the expedients that lasted longest in keeping up the spirits ofthe men.
The rat-hunting referred to in the foregoing "summery" was not a merefiction of Buzzby's brain. It was a veritable fact. Notwithstandingthe extreme cold of this inhospitable climate, the rats in the shipincreased to such a degree that at last they became a perfect nuisance.Nothing was safe from their attacks; whether substances were edible ornot, they were gnawed through and ruined, and their impudence, whichseemed to increase with their numbers, at last exceeded all belief.They swarmed everywhere--under the stove, about the beds, in thelockers, between the sofa-cushions, amongst the moss round the walls,and inside the boots and mittens (when empty) of the men. And theybecame so accustomed to having missiles thrown at them that theyacquired to perfection that art which Buzzby described as "keeping one'sweather-eye open."
You couldn't hit one if you tried. If your hand moved towards an objectwith which you intended to deal swift destruction, the intruder pausedand turned his sharp eyes towards you as if to say: "What! going to tryit again?--come, then, here's a chance for you." But when you threw, atbest you could only hit the empty space it had occupied the momentbefore. Or if you seized a stick, and rushed at the enemy in wrath, itgrinned fiercely, showed its long white teeth, and then vanished with afling of its tail that could be construed into nothing but an expressionof contempt.
At last an expedient was hit upon for destroying these disagreeableinmates. Small bows and arrows were made, the latter having heavy,blunt heads, and with these the men slaughtered hundreds. Wheneveranyone was inclined for a little sport he took up his bow and arrows,and, retiring to a dark corner of the cabin, watched for a shot. DavieSummers acquired the title of Nimrod, in consequence of his success inthis peculiar field.
At first the rats proved a capital addition to the dogs' meals, but atlength some of the men were glad to eat them, especially when fresh meatfailed altogether, and scurvy began its assaults. White or Arcticfoxes, too, came about the ship, sometimes in great numbers, and provedan acceptable addition to their fresh provisions; but at one period allthese sources failed, and the crew were reduced to the utmost extremity,having nothing to eat except salt provisions. Notwithstanding thecheering influence of the sun, the spirits of the men fell as theirbodily energies failed. Nearly two-thirds of the ship's company wereconfined to their berths. The officers retained much of their wontedhealth and vigour, partly in consequence, no doubt, of their unweariedexertions in behalf of others. They changed places with the men atlast, owing to the force of circumstances--ministering to their wants,drawing water, fetching fuel, and cooking their food,--carrying out, inshort, the divine command, "by love serve one another."
During the worst period of their distress a party was formed to go outupon the floes in search of walrus.
"If we don't get speedy relief," remarked Captain Guy to Tom Singletonin reference to this party, "some of us will die. I feel certain ofthat. Poor Buzzby seems on his last legs, and Mivins is reduced to ashadow."
The doctor was silent, for the captain's remark was too true.
"You must get up your party at once, and set off after breakfast, MrBolton," he added, turning to the first mate. "Who can accompany you?"
"There's Peter Grim, sir, he's tough yet, and not much affected byscurvy, and Mr Saunders, I think, may--"
"No," interrupted the doctor, "Saunders must not go. He does not lookvery ill, and I hope is not, but I don't like some of his symptoms."
"Well, Doctor, we can do without him. There's Tom Green and O'Riley.Nothing seems able to bring down O'Riley. Then there's--"
"There's Fred Ellice," cried Fred himself, joining the group; "I'll gowith you if you'll take me."
"Most happy to have you, sir; our healthy hands are very short, but wecan muster sufficient, I think."
The captain suggested Amos Parr and two or three more men, and thendismissed his first mate to get ready for an immediate start.
"I don't half like your going, Fred," said his father. "You've not beenwell lately, and hunting on the floes, I know from experience, is hardwork."
"Don't fear for me, Father; I've quite recovered from my recent attack,which was but slight after all, and I know full well that those who arewell must work as long as they can stand."
"Ho, lads, look alive there! are you ready?" shouted the first mate downthe hatchway.
"Ay, ay, sir!" replied Grim, and in a few minutes the party wereassembled on the ice beside the small sledge, with their shoulder-beltson, for most of the dogs were either dead or dying of that strangecomplaint to which allusion has been made in a previous chapter.
They set out silently, but ere they had got a dozen yards from the shipCaptain Guy felt the impropriety of permitting them thus to depart.
"Up, lads, and give them three cheers," he cried, mounting the ship'sside and setting the example.
A hearty, generous spirit, when vigorously displayed, always finds aready response fr
om human hearts. The few sailors who were on deck atthe time, and one or two of the sick men who chanced to put their headsup the hatchway, rushed to the side, waved their mittens--in default ofcaps--and gave vent to three hearty British cheers. The effect on thedrooping spirits of the hunting-party was electrical. They pricked uplike chargers that had felt the spur, wheeled round, and returned thecheer with interest. It was an apparently trifling incident, but itserved to lighten the way, and make it seem less dreary for many a longmile.
"I'm tired of it entirely," cried O'Riley, sitting down on a hummock, onthe evening of the second day after setting out on the hunt; "here weis, two days out, and not a sign o' life nowhere."
"Come, don't give in," said Bolton cheerfully, "we're sure to fall inwith a walrus to-day."
"I think so," cried Fred; "we have come so far out upon the floes thatthere must be open water near."
"Come on, then," cried Peter Grim; "don't waste time talking."
Thus urged, O'Riley rose, and, throwing his sledge-strap over hisshoulder, plodded on wearily with the rest.
Their provisions were getting low now, and it was felt that if they didnot soon fall in with walrus or bears they must return as quickly aspossible to the ship in order to avoid starving. It was, therefore, amatter of no small satisfaction that, on turning the edge of an iceberg,they discovered a large bear walking leisurely towards them. To droptheir sledge-lines and seize their muskets was the work of a moment.But unfortunately, long travelling had filled the pans with snow, and itrequired some time to pick the touch-holes clear. In this extremityPeter Grim seized a hatchet and ran towards it, while O'Riley charged itwith a spear. Grim delivered a tremendous blow at its head with hisweapon, but his intention was better than his aim, for he missed thebear and smashed the corner of a hummock of ice. O'Riley was moresuccessful. He thrust the spear into the animal's shoulder, but theshoulder-blade turned the head of the weapon, and caused it to run alongat least three feet, just under the skin. The wound, although notfatal, was so painful that Bruin uttered a loud roar of disapproval,wheeled round, and ran away!--an act of cowardice so unusual on the partof a Polar bear that the whole party were taken by surprise. Severalshots were fired after him, but he soon disappeared among theice-hummocks, having fairly made off with O'Riley's spear.
The disappointment caused by this was great; but they had little time tothink of it, for, soon after, a stiff breeze of wind sprang up, whichfreshened into a gale, compelling them to seek the shelter of a clusterof icebergs, in the midst of which they built a snow-hut. Before nighta terrific storm was raging, with the thermometer 40 degrees below zero.The sky became black as ink; drift whirled round them in horridturmoil; and the wild blast came direct from the north, over the frozensea, shrieking and howling in its strength and fury.
All that night and the next day it continued. Then it ceased; and forthe first time that winter a thaw set in, so that ere morning theirsleeping-bags and socks were thoroughly wetted. This was of shortduration, however. In a few hours the frost set in again as intense asever, converting all their wet garments and bedding into hard cakes ofice. To add to their misfortunes their provisions ran out, and theywere obliged to abandon the hut and push forward towards the ship withthe utmost speed. Night came on them while they were slowly toilingthrough the deep drifts that the late gale had raised, and to theirhorror they found they had wandered out of their way, and were still buta short distance from their snow-hut. In despair they returned to passthe night in it, and, spreading their frozen sleeping-bags on the snow,they lay down, silent and supperless, to rest till morning.