CHAPTER FIVE.
MISCELLANEOUS REFLECTIONS--THE COAST OF GREENLAND--UPPERNAVIK--NEWS OFTHE POLE STAR--MIDNIGHT DAY--SCIENTIFIC FACTS AND FAIRY-LIKE SCENES--TOMSINGLETON'S OPINION OF POOR OLD WOMEN--IN DANGER OF A SQUEEZE--ESCAPE.
In pursuance of his original intention, Captain Guy now proceededthrough Davis' Straits into Baffin's Bay, at the head of which heintended to search for the vessel of his friend Captain Ellice, andafterwards prosecute the whale-fishery. Off the coast of Greenland,many whalers were seen, actively engaged in warfare with the giants ofthe Polar Seas, and to several of these Captain Guy spoke, in the fainthope of gleaning some information as to the fate or the _Pole Star_, butwithout success. It was now apparent to the crew of the _Dolphin_ thatthey were engaged as much on a searching, as a whaling expedition; andthe fact that the commander of the lost vessel was the father of "youngMr Fred", as they styled our hero, induced them to take a deep interestin the success of their undertaking.
This interest was further increased by the graphic account that honestJohn Buzzby gave of the death of poor Mrs Ellice, and the enthusiasticway in which he spoke of his old captain. Fred, too, had, by his frank,affable manner, and somewhat reckless disposition, rendered himself ageneral favourite with the men, and had particularly recommended himselfto Mivins the steward (who was possessed of an intensely romanticspirit), by stating once or twice, very emphatically, that he (Fred)meant to land on the coast of Baffin's Bay, should the captain fail tofind his father, and continue the search on foot and alone. There wasno doubt whatever that poor Fred was in earnest, and had made up hismind to die in the search, rather than not find him. He little knew theterrible nature of the country in which for a time his lot was to becast, and the hopelessness of such an undertaking as he meditated. Withboyish inconsiderateness he thought not of how his object was to beaccomplished; he cared not what impossibilities lay in the way, but withmanly determination he made up his mind to quit the ship and search forhis father through the length and breadth of the land. Let not thereader smile at what he may perhaps style a childish piece ofenthusiasm. Many a youth, at his age, has dreamed of attempting asgreat if not greater impossibilities. All honour, we say, to the boywho _dreams_ impossibilities, and greater honour to him who, like Fred,_resolves to attempt them_! James Watt stared at an iron tea kettletill his eyes were dim, and meditated the monstrous impossibility ofmaking that kettle work like a horse; and men might (perhaps did) smileat James Watt _then_; but do men smile at James Watt _now_--now thatthousands of iron kettles are dashing, like dreadful comets, over thelength and breadth of the land, not to mention the sea, with long tailsof men, and women, and children behind them?
"That's 'ow it is, sir," Mivins used to say, when spoken to by Fred onthe subject, "I've never bin in cold countries myself, sir, but I've binin 'ot, and I knows that with a stout pair o' legs, and a will to work,a man can work 'is way hanywhere. Of course there's not much of apop'lation in them parts, I've heer'd; but there's Heskimos, and whereone man can live, so can another, and what one man can do, so cananother--that's bin my hexperience, and I'm not ashamed to hown it, I'mnot, though I _do_ say it as shouldn't, and I honour you, sir, for yourfilleral detarmination to find your father, sir, and--"
"Steward!" shouted the captain down the cabin skylight.
"Yes, sir!"
"Bring me the chart."
"Yes, sir!" and Mivins disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box from the cabinjust as Tom Singleton entered it.
"Here we are, Fred," he said, seizing a telescope that hung over thecabin door, "within sight of the Danish settlement of Uppernavik; comeon deck and see it."
Fred needed no second bidding. It was here that the captain had hintedthere would, probably, be some information obtained regarding the _PoleStar_, and it was with feelings of no common interest the two friendsexamined the low-roofed houses of this out-of-the-way settlement.
In an hour afterwards the captain and first mate, with our youngfriends, landed amid the clamorous greetings of the entire population,and proceeded to the residence of the governor, who received them withgreat kindness and hospitality; but the only information they couldobtain was that, a year ago, Captain Ellice had been driven there in hisbrig by stress of weather, and, after refitting and taking in a supplyof provisions, had set sail for England.
Here the _Dolphin_ laid in a supply of dried fish, and procured severaldogs, besides an Esquimaux interpreter and hunter, named Meetuck.
Leaving this little settlement, they stood out once more to sea, andthreaded their way among the ice, with which they were now wellacquainted in all its forms, from the mighty berg, or mountain of ice,to the wide field. They passed in succession one or two Esquimauxsettlements, the last of which, Votlik, is the most northerly point ofcolonisation. Beyond this all was terra incognita. Here enquiry wasagain made, through the medium of the Esquimaux interpreter, who hadbeen taken on board at Uppernavik, and they learned that the brig inquestion had been last seen, beset in the pack, and driving to thenorthward. Whether or not she had ever returned, they could not tell.
A consultation was now held, and it was resolved to proceed north as faras the ice would permit, towards Smith's Sound, and examine the coastcarefully in that direction.
For several weeks past there had been gradually coming over the aspectof nature, a change to which we have not yet referred, and which filledFred Ellice and his friend, the young surgeon, with surprise andadmiration; this was the long-continued daylight, which now lasted thewhole night round, and increased in intensity every day, as theyadvanced north. They had, indeed, often heard and read of it before,but their minds had utterly failed to form a correct conception of theexquisite calmness and beauty of the _midnight-day_ of the north.
Everyone knows that, in consequence of the axis of the earth not beingperpendicular to the plane of its orbit round the sun, the poles arealternately directed more or less _towards_ that great luminary duringone part of the year, and _away_ from it during another part. So that,far north, the days during the one season grow longer and longer until,at last, there is _one long day_ of many weeks' duration, in which thesun does not set at all; and during the other season there is _one longnight_, in which the sun is never seen. It was approaching the heightof the summer season when the _Dolphin_ entered the Arctic regions, and,although the sun descended below the horizon for a short time eachnight, there was scarcely any diminution of the light at all, and, asfar as one's sensations were concerned, there was but one longcontinuous day, which grew brighter and brighter at midnight, as theyadvanced.
"How thoroughly splendid this is," remarked Tom Singleton to Fred onenight, as they sat in their favourite out-look, the main-top, gazingdown on the glassy sea, which was covered with snowy icebergs and floes,and bathed in the rays of the sun, "and how wonderful to think that thesun will only set for an hour or so, and then get up as splendid asever!"
The evening was still as death. Not a sound broke upon the ear save thegentle cries of a few sea-birds, that dipped ever and anon into the sea,as if to kiss it gently while asleep, and then circled slowly into thebright sky again. The sails of the ship, too, flapped very gently, anda spar creaked plaintively, as the vessel rose and fell on the gentleundulations that seemed to be the breathing of the ocean; but suchsounds did not disturb the universal stillness of the hour; neither didthe gambols of yonder group of seals and walrus, that were at play roundsome fantastic blocks of ice; nor did the soft murmur of the swell thatbroke in surf at the foot of yonder iceberg, whose blue sides wereseamed with a thousand water-courses, and whose jagged pinnacles rose uplike needles of steel into the clear atmosphere.
There were many bergs in sight, of various shapes and sizes, at somedistance from the ship, which caused much anxiety to the captain,although they were only a source of admiration to our young friends inthe main-top.
"Tom," said Fred, breaking a long silence, "it may seem a strange ideato you, but, do you know, I cannot help fancying that heaven must
besomething like this."
"I'm not sure that that's such a strange idea, Fred, for it has two ofthe characteristics of heaven in it--peace and rest."
"True; that didn't strike me. Do you know, I wish that it were alwayscalm like this, and that we had no wind at all."
Tom smiled. "Your voyage would be a long one if that were to happen. Idare say the Esquimaux would join with you in the wish, however, fortheir kayaks and oomiaks are better adapted for a calm than a stormysea."
"Tom," said Fred, breaking another long silence, "you're very tiresomeand stupid tonight; why don't you talk to me?"
"Because this delightful dreamy evening inclines me to think and besilent."
"Ah, Tom! that's your chief fault. You are always inclined to think toomuch, and to talk too little. Now I, on the contrary, am always--"
"Inclined to talk too much, and think too little; eh, Fred?"
"Bah! don't try to be funny, man; you haven't it in you. Did you eversee such a miserable set of creatures as the old Esquimaux women are, atUppernavik?"
"Why, what put _them_ into your head?" enquired Tom, laughing.
"Yonder iceberg; look at it! There's the nose and chin, exactly, of theextraordinary hag you gave your silk pocket-handkerchief to at parting.Now, I never saw such a miserable old woman as that before; did you?"
Tom Singleton's whole demeanour changed, and his dark eyes brightened asthe strongly marked brows frowned over them, while he replied: "Yes,Fred, I have seen old women more miserable than that. I have seen womenso old that their tottering limbs could scarcely support them, goingabout in the bitterest November winds, with clothing too scant to covertheir wrinkled bodies, and so ragged and filthy, that you would haveshrunk from touching it--I have seen such groping about among heaps offilth that the very dogs looked at, and turned away as if in disgust."
Fred was inclined to laugh at his friend's sudden change of manner, butthere was something in the young surgeon's character--perhaps its deepearnestness--that rendered it impossible, at least for his friends, tobe jocular when he was disposed to be serious. Fred became grave as hespoke.
"Where have you seen such poor wretches, Tom?" he asked with a look ofinterest.
"In the cities, the civilised cities of our own Christian land. If youhave ever walked about the streets of some of these cities, before therest of the world was astir, at grey dawn, you must have seen themshivering along, and scratching among the refuse cast out by the tenantsof the neighbouring houses. Oh, Fred, Fred, in my professional career,short though it has been, I have seen much of these poor old women, andmany others, whom the world never sees on the streets at all,experiencing a slow, lingering death by starvation, and fatigue, andcold. It is the foulest blot on our country, that there is nosufficient provision for the _aged poor_."
"I have seen those old women too," replied Fred, "but I never thoughtvery seriously about them before."
"That's it--that's just it; people don't _think_, otherwise thisdreadful state of things would not continue. Just listen _now_, for amoment, to what I have to say. But don't imagine that I'm standing upfor the poor in general. I don't feel--perhaps I'm wrong," continuedTom thoughtfully,--"perhaps I'm wrong--I hope not--but it's a fact Idon't feel much for the young and the sturdy poor, and I make it a rule_never_ to give a farthing to _young_ beggars, not even to littlechildren, for I know full well that they are sent out to beg by idle,good-for-nothing parents. I stand up only for the _aged_ poor, because,be they good or wicked, they _cannot_ help themselves. If a man felldown in the street, struck with some dire disease that shrunk hismuscles, unstrung his nerves, made his heart tremble, and his skinshrivel up, would you look upon him and then pass him by _withoutthinking_?"
"No!" cried Fred in an emphatic tone; "I would not! I would stop andhelp him."
"Then, let me ask you," resumed Tom earnestly, "is there any differencebetween the weakness of muscle and the faintness of heart which isproduced by disease, and that which is produced by old age, except thatthe latter is incurable? Have not these women feelings like otherwomen? Think you that there are not amongst them those who have `knownbetter times?' They think of sons and daughters dead and gone, perhaps,just as other old women in better circumstances do; but they must notindulge such depressing thoughts, they must reserve all the energy, thestamina, they have, to drag round the city--barefoot, it may be, and inthe cold--to beg for food, and scratch up what they can find among thecinder-heaps. They groan over past comforts and past times, perhaps,and think of the days when their limbs were strong, and their cheekswere smooth--for they were not always `hags',--and remember that _once_they had friends who loved them and cared for them, although they areold, unknown, and desolate now."
Tom paused and pressed his hand upon his flushed forehead.
"You may think it strange," he continued, "that I speak to you in thisway about poor old women, but I feel _deeply_ for their forlorncondition. The young can help themselves, more or less, and they havestrength to stand their sorrows, with _hope_, blessed hope, to keep themup; but _poor_ old men and old women cannot help themselves and cannotstand their sorrows, and, as far as this life is concerned, they have_no hope_; except to die soon and easy, and, if possible, insummer-time, when the wind is not so very cold and bitter."
"But how can this be put right, Tom?" asked Fred in a tone of deepcommiseration. "Our being sorry for it, and anxious about it (andyou've made me sorry, I assure you) can do very little good, you know."
"I don't know, Fred," replied Tom, sinking into his usual quiet tone."If every city and town in Great Britain would start a society whosefirst resolution should be that they would not leave one poor _old_ manor woman unprovided for, _that_ would do it. Or if the Government wouldtake it in hand _honestly_, that would do it."
"Call all hands, Mr Bolton," cried the captain in a sharp voice. "Getout the ice-poles, and lower away the boats."
"Hallo! what's wrong!" said Fred, starting up.
"Getting too near the bergs, I suspect," remarked Tom. "I say, Fred,before we go on deck, will you promise to do what I ask you?"
"Well--yes, I will."
"Will you promise, then, all through your life, especially if you evercome to be rich or influential, to think _of_, and _for_, old men andwomen who are poor?"
"I will," answered Fred, "but I don't know that I'll ever be rich, orinfluential, or able to help them much."
"Of course you don't. But when a thought about them strikes you, willyou always _think it out_, and, if possible, _act it out_, as God shallenable you?"
"Yes, Tom, I promise to do that as well as I can."
"That's right, thank you, my boy!" said the young surgeon, as theydescended the shrouds and leaped on deck.
Here they found the captain walking up and down rapidly, with an anxiousexpression of face. After taking a turn or two he stopped short, andgazed out astern.
"Set the stun'sails, Mr Bolton. The breeze will be up in a little, Ithink. Let the men pull with a will."
The order was given, and soon the ship was under a cloud of canvas,advancing slowly as the boats towed her between two large icebergs,which had been gradually drawing near to each other the whole afternoon.
"Is there any danger, Buzzby?" enquired Fred, as the sturdy sailor stoodlooking at the larger berg, with an ice-pole in his hands.
"Danger! ay, that there is, lad! more nor's agreeable, d'ye see. Herewe are without a breath o' wind to get us on, right between two bergs ascould crack us like a walnut. We can't get to starboard of 'em for thecurrent, nor to larboard of 'em for the pack, as ye see, so we must gobetween them, neck or nothing."
The danger was indeed imminent. The two bergs were within a hundredyards of each other, and the smaller of the two, being more easily movedby the current, probably, was setting down on the larger at a rate thatbade fair to decide the fate of the _Dolphin_ in a few minutes. The menrowed lustily, but their utmost exertions could move the ship butslowly. Aid was coming, howe
ver, direct from the hand of Him who is arefuge in the time of danger. A breeze was creeping over the calm searight astern, and it was to meet this that the studding sails had beenset a-low and aloft, so that the wide-spreading canvas, projecting farto the right and left, had, to an inexperienced eye, the appearance ofbeing out of all proportion to the little hull, by which it wassupported.
With breathless anxiety those on board stood watching the two bergs andthe approaching breeze.
At last it came. A few cat's-paws ruffled the surface of the sea,distending the sails for a moment, then leaving them flat and loose asbefore. This, however, was sufficient; another such puff and the shipwas almost out of danger, but before it came, the projecting summit ofthe smaller berg was overhanging the deck. At this critical moment thewind began to blow steadily, and soon the _Dolphin_ was in the openwater beyond. Five minutes after she had passed, the moving mountainsstruck with a noise louder than thunder; the summits and large portionsof the sides fell, with a succession of crashes like the roaring ofartillery, just above the spot where the ship had lain not quarter of anhour before, and the vessel, for some time after, rocked violently toand fro, in the surges that the plunge of the falling masses raised.