a sketcher in imminent danger. difficulties increase, and are overcome as usual.
the first night on home-in-sight island was not so undisturbed as might have been expected. the noisy gulls did indeed go to sleep at their proper bed-time, which, by the way, they must have ascertained by instinct, for the sun could be no certain guide, seeing that he shone all night as well as all day, and it would be too much to expect that gulls had sufficient powers of observation to note the great luminary’s exact relation to the horizon. polar bears, like the eskimo, had forsaken the spot. all nature, indeed, animate and inanimate, favoured the idea of repose when the explorers lay down to sleep on a mossy couch that was quite as soft as a feather bed, and much more springy.
the cause of disturbance was the prolonged absence of alf vandervell. that enthusiastic naturalist’s failure to appear at supper was nothing uncommon. his non-appearance when they lay down did indeed cause some surprise, but little or no anxiety, and they all dropped into a sound sleep which lasted till considerably beyond midnight. then the captain awoke with a feeling of uneasiness, started up on one elbow, yawned, and gazed dreamily around. the sun, which had just kissed his hand to the disappointed horizon and begun to re-ascend the sky, blinded the captain with his beams, but did not prevent him from observing that alf’s place was still vacant.
“very odd,” he muttered, “alf didn’t use to—to—w’at’s ’is name in—this—way—”
the captain’s head dropped, his elbow relaxed, and he returned to the land of nod for another half-hour.
again he awoke with a start, and sat upright.
“this’ll never do,” he exclaimed, with a fierce yawn, “something must be wrong. ho! benjy!”
“umph!” replied the boy, who, though personally light, was a heavy sleeper.
“rouse up, ben, alf’s not come back. where did you leave him?”
“don’ know, burrerface saw ’im las’—.” benjy dropped off with a sigh, but was re-aroused by a rough shake from his father, who lay close to him.
“come, ben, stir up butterface! we must go look for alf.”
butterface lay on the other side of benjy, who, only half alive to what he was doing, raised his hand and let it fall heavily on the negro’s nose, by way of stirring him up.
“hallo! massa benjamin! you’s dreamin’ drefful strong dis mornin’.”
“yer up, ol’ ebony!” groaned the boy.
in a few minutes the whole camp was roused; sleep was quickly banished by anxiety about the missing one; guns and rifles were loaded, and a regular search-expedition was hastily organised. they started off in groups in different directions, leaving the eskimo women in charge of the camp.
the captain headed one party, chingatok another, and leo with benjy a third, while a few of the natives went off independently, in couples or alone.
“i was sure alf would get into trouble,” said benjy, as he trotted beside leo, who strode over the ground in anxious haste. “that way he has of getting so absorbed in things that he forgets where he is, won’t make him a good explorer.”
“not so sure of that, ben,” returned leo; “he can discover things that men who are less absorbed, like you, might fail to note. let us go round this hillock on separate sides. we might pass him if we went together. keep your eyes open as you go. he may have stumbled over one of those low precipices and broken a leg. keep your ears cocked also, and give a shout now and then.”
we have said that the island was a low one, nevertheless it was extremely rugged, with little ridges and hollows everywhere, like miniature hills and valleys. through one of these latter benjy hurried, glancing from side to side as he went, like a red indian on the war-path—which character, indeed, he thought of, and tried to imitate.
the little vale did not, however, as leo had imagined, lead round the hillock. it diverged gradually to the right, and ascended towards the higher parts of the island. the path was so obstructed by rocks and boulders which had evidently been at one time under the pressure of ice, that the boy could not see far in any direction, except by mounting one of these. he had not gone far when, on turning the corner of a cliff which opened up another gorge to view, he beheld a sight which caused him to open mouth and eyes to their widest.
for there, seated on an eminence, with his back to a low precipice, not more than three or four hundred yards off, sat the missing explorer, with book on knees and pencil in hand—sketching; and there, seated on the top of the precipice, looking over the edge at the artist, skulked a huge polar bear, taking as it were, a surreptitious lesson in drawing! the bear, probably supposing alf to be a wandering seal, had dogged him to that position just as benjy vane discovered him, and then, finding the precipice too high for a leap perhaps, or doubting the character of his intended victim, he had paused in uncertainty on the edge.
the boy’s first impulse was to utter a shout of warning, for he had no gun wherewith to shoot the brute, but fear lest that might precipitate an attack restrained him. benjy, however, was quick-witted. he saw that the leap was probably too much even for a polar bear, and that the nature of the ground would necessitate a détour before it could get at the artist. these and other thoughts passed through his brain like the lightning flash, and he was on the point of turning to run back and give the alarm to leo, when a rattling of stones occurred behind him—just beyond the point of rocks round which he had turned. in the tension of his excited nerves he felt as if he had suddenly become red hot. could this be another bear? if so, what was he to do, whither to fly? a moment more would settle the question, for the rattle of stones continued as the steps advanced. the boy felt the hair rising on his head. round came the unknown monster in the form of—a man!
“ah, benjy, i—”
but the appearance of benjy’s countenance caused leo to stop abruptly, both in walk and talk. he had found out his mistake about sending the boy round the hillock, and, turning back, had followed him.
“ah! look there,” said benjy, pointing at the tableau vivant on the hill-top.
leo’s ready rifle leaped from his shoulder to his left palm, and a grim smile played on his lips, for long service in a volunteer corps had made him a good judge of distance as well as a sure and deadly shot.
“stand back, benjy, behind this boulder,” he whispered. “i’ll lean on it to make more certain.”
he was deliberately arranging the rifle while speaking, but never for one instant took his eye off the bear, which still stood motionless, with one paw raised, as if petrified with amazement at what it saw. as for alf, he went on intently with his work, lifting and lowering his eyes continuously, putting in bold dashes here, or tender touches there; holding out the book occasionally at arm’s length to regard his work, with head first on one side, then on the other, and, in short, going through all those graceful and familiar little evolutions of artistic procedure which arouse one’s home feelings so powerfully everywhere—even in the arctic regions! little did the artist know who was his uninvited pupil on that sunny summer night!
with one knee resting on a rock, and his rifle on the boulder, leo took a steady, somewhat lengthened aim, and fired. the result was stupendous! not only did the shot reverberate with crashing echoes among surrounding cliffs and boulders, but a dying howl from the bear burst over the island, like the thunder of a heavy gun, and went booming over the frozen sea. no wonder that the horrified alf leapt nearly his own height into the air and scattered his drawing-materials right and left like chaff. he threw up his arms, and wheeled frantically round just in time to receive the murdered bear into his very bosom! they rolled down a small slope together, and then, falling apart, lay prone and apparently dead upon the ground.
you may be sure that leo soon had his brother’s head on his knee, and was calling to him in an agony of fear, quite regardless of the fact that the bear lay at his elbow, giving a few terrific kicks as its huge life oozed out through a bullet-hole in its heart, while benjy, half weeping with sympathy, half laughing with glee, ran to a neighbouring pool to fetch water in his cap.
a little of the refreshing liquid dashed on his face and poured down his throat soon restored alf, who had only been stunned by the fall.
“what induced you to keep on sketching all night?” asked leo, after the first explanations were over.
“all night?” repeated alf in surprise, “have i been away all night? what time is it?”
“three o’clock in the morning at the very least,” said leo. “the sun is pretty high, as you might have seen if you had looked at it.”
“but he never looked at it,” said benjy, whose eyes were not yet quite dry, “he never looks at anything, or thinks of anything, when he goes sketching.”
“surely you must allow that at least i look at and think of my work,” said alf, rising from the ground and sitting down on the rock from which he had been so rudely roused; “but you are half right, benjy. the sun was at my back, you see, hid from me by the cliff over which the bear tumbled, and i had no thoughts for time, or eyes for nature, except the portion i was busy with—by the way, where is it?”
“what, your sketch?”
“ay, and the colours. i wouldn’t lose these for a sight of the pole itself. look for them, ben, my boy, i still feel somewhat giddy.”
in a few minutes the sketch and drawing-materials were collected, undamaged, and the three returned to camp, alf leaning on leo’s arm. on the way thither they met the captain’s party, and afterwards the band led by chingatok. the latter was mightily amused by the adventure, and continued for a considerable time afterwards to upheave his huge shoulders with suppressed laughter.
when the whole party was re-assembled the hour was so late, and they had all been so thoroughly excited, that no one felt inclined to sleep again. it was resolved, therefore, at once to commence the operations of a new day. butterface was set to prepare coffee, and the eskimos began breakfast with strips of raw blubber, while steaks of leo’s bear were being cooked.
meanwhile chingatok expressed a wish to see the drawing which had so nearly cost the artist his life.
alf was delighted to exhibit and explain it.
for some time the giant gazed at it in silence. then he rested his forehead in his huge hand as if in meditation.
it was truly a clever sketch of a surpassingly lovely scene. in the foreground was part of the island with its pearl-grey rocks, red-brown earth, and green mosses, in the midst of which lay a calm pool, like the island’s eye looking up to heaven and reflecting the bright indescribable blue of the midnight sky. further on was a mass of cold grey rocks. beyond lay the northern ice-pack, which extended in chaotic confusion away to the distant horizon, but the chaos was somewhat relieved by the presence of lakelets which shone here and there over its surface like shields of glittering azure and burnished gold.
“ask him what he thinks of it,” said leo to anders, a little surprised at chingatok’s prolonged silence.
“i cannot speak,” answered the giant, “my mind is bursting and my heart is full. with my finger i have drawn faces on the snow. i have seen men put wonderful things on flat rocks with a piece of stone, but this!—this is my country made little. it looks as if i could walk in it, yet it is flat!”
“the giant is rather complimentary,” laughed benjy, when this was translated; “to my eye your sketch is little better than a daub.”
“it is a daub that causes me much anxiety,” said the captain, who now looked at the drawing for the first time. “d’you mean to tell me, alf, that you’ve been true to nature when you sketched that pack?”
“as true as i could make it, uncle.”
“i’ll answer for its truth,” said leo, “and so will benjy, for we both saw the view from the top of the island, though we paid little heed to it, being too much occupied with alf and the bear at the time. the pack is even more rugged than he has drawn it, and it extends quite unbroken to the horizon.”
the captain’s usually hopeful expression forsook him for a little as he commented on his bad fortune.
“the season advances, you see,” he said, “and it’s never very long at the best. i had hoped we were done with this troublesome ‘sea of ancient ice,’ but it seems to turn up everywhere, and from past experience we know that the crossing of it is slow work, as well as hard. however, we mustn’t lose heart. ‘nebber say die,’ as butterface is fond of remarking.”
“yis, massa, nebber say die, but allers say ‘lib, to de top ob your bent.’ dems my ’pinions w’en dey’s wanted. also ‘go a-hid.’ dat’s a grand sent’ment—was borned ’mong de yankees, an’ i stoled it w’en i left ole virginny.”
“what says chingatok?” asked the captain of the eskimo, who was still seated with the sketch on his knees in profound meditation.
“blackbeard has trouble before him,” answered the uncompromising giant, without removing his eyes from the paper. “there,” he said, pointing to the pack, “you have three days’ hard work. after that three days’ easy and swift work. after that no more go on. must come back.”
“he speaks in riddles, anders. what does he mean by the three days of hard work coming to an end?”
“i mean,” said chingatok, “that the ice was loose when i came to this island. it is now closed. the white men must toil, toil, toil—very slow over the ice for three days, then they will come to smooth ice, where the dogs may run for three days. then they will come to another island, like this one, on the far-off side of which there is no ice—nothing but sea, sea, sea. our kayaks are gone,” continued the giant, sadly, “we must come back and travel many days before we find things to make new ones.”
while he was speaking, captain vane’s face brightened up.
“are you sure of what you say, chingatok?”
“chingatok is sure,” replied the eskimo quietly.
“then we’ll conquer our difficulties after all. come, boys, let’s waste no more time in idle talk, but harness the dogs, and be off at once.”
of course the party had to travel round the island, for there was neither ice nor snow on it. when the other side was reached the real difficulties of the journey were fully realised. during the whole of that day and the next they were almost continuously engaged in dragging the sledges over masses of ice, some of which rose to thirty feet above the general level. if the reader will try to imagine a very small ant or beetle dragging its property over a newly macadamised road, he will have a faint conception of the nature of the work. to some extent the dogs were a hindrance rather than a help, especially when passing over broken fragments, for they were always tumbling into holes and cracks, out of which they had to be dragged, and were much given to venting their ill-humour on each other, sometimes going in for a free fight, in the course of which they tied their traces into indescribable knots, and drove their eskimo masters furious. on such occasions the whips—both lash and handle—were applied with unsparing vigour until the creatures were cowed.
danger, also, as well as toil, was encountered during the journey. on the evening of the second day the sledge driven by oolichuk diverged a little from the line of march towards what seemed an easier passage over the hummocks. they had just gained the top of an ice-block, which, unknown to the driver, overhung its base. when the dogs reached the edge of the mass, it suddenly gave way. down went the team with a united howl of despair. their weight jerked the sledge forward, another mass of the ice gave way, and over went the whole affair. in the fall the lashings broke, and oolichuk, with several of his kindred, including poor little oblooria, went down in a shower of skins, packages, bags, and eskimo cooking utensils.
fortunately, they dropped on a slope of ice which broke their fall, and, as it were, shunted them all safely, though violently, to the lower level of the pack.
beyond a few scratches and bruises, no evil resulted from this accident to these hardy natives of the north.
that night they all encamped, as on the previous night, in the midst of the pack, spreading their skins and furs on the flattest ice they could find, and keeping as far from overhanging lumps as possible.
“what does blackbeard mean by coming here?” asked chingatok of anders, as they lay side by side, gazing up at the blue sky awaiting sleep. “we cannot swim over the sea, and we have no boats.”
“i don’t know,” answered the interpreter. “our chief is a wonderful man. he does things that seem to be all wrong, but they turn out mostly to be all right.”
“does he ever speak of a great spirit?” asked the giant in a solemn tone.
“not to me,” replied the other, “but i hear him sometimes speaking to his little boy about his god.”
“then he must know his god,” returned chingatok. “has he seen him—spoken to him?”
anders was a good deal surprised as well as puzzled by the questions put by his new friend. his extremely commonplace mind had never been exercised by such ideas. “i never asked him about that,” he said, “and he never told me. perhaps he will tell you if you ask him.”
the interpreter turned on his side with a sigh and went to sleep. the giant lay on his back gazing long and steadily with a wistful look at the unbroken vault of sky, whose vast profundity seemed to thrust him mercilessly back. as he gazed, a little cloud, light as a puff of eider-down, and golden as the sun from which its lustre came, floated into the range of his vision. he smiled, for the thought that light may suddenly arise when all around seems blank gave his inquiring spirit rest, and he soon joined the slumbering band who lay upon the ice around him.
according to chingatok’s prophecy, on the third day the fagged and weary discoverers surmounted their first difficulty, and came upon comparatively smooth ice, the surface of which resembled hard-trodden snow, and was sufficiently free from obstructing lumps to admit of rapid sledge travelling. it was late when they reached it, but as they could now all sit on the sledges and leave the hard work to the dogs, the leader resolved to continue the advance without resting.
“it’s time enough to stop when we’re stopped,” he remarked to leo, while making preparations to start. “we will sleep at the first obstruction we meet with, if it’s a sufficiently troublesome one. see that the things are well lashed on all the sledges, alf. remember that i hold you responsible for lost articles.”
“and what am i responsible for, father?” asked benjy with a pert look.
“for keeping out of mischief, ben. that’s the most i can expect of you.”
“you are only a sort of negative blessing to us, you see, benjy,” said alf, as he stooped to tighten a rope. “it’s not so much what you do, as what you don’t do, that rejoices us.”
“i’m glad of that,” retorted the boy, arranging himself comfortably on his father’s sledge, “because i won’t do anything at all for some hours to come, which ought to fill you all with perfect felicity. awake me, leo, if we chance to upset.”
“now then, all ready?” cried the captain. “off you go, then—clap on all sail!”
crack went the mighty whips, howl went the dogs, and the sledges were soon skimming over the sea at the rate of ten miles an hour. of course they did not keep that pace up very long. it became necessary to rest at times, also, to give the dogs a little food. when this latter process had been completed, the teams became so lively that they tried to runaway.
“let them run,” said the captain to leo.
“and help them on,” added benjy.
leo took the advice of both, applied the lash, and increased the speed so much that the sledge swung from side to side on the smooth places, sometimes catching on a lump of ice, and all but throwing out its occupants. the eskimos entered into the spirit of their leaders. they also plied their lashes, and, being more dexterous than leo, soon converted the journey into a race, in which chingatok—his giant arm flourishing an appropriately huge whip—was rapidly coming to the front when a tremendous shout in the rear caused them to pull up. looking back, alf’s sledge was seen inverted and mixed, as it were, with the team, while alf himself and his eskimo friends were sprawling around on the ice. no damage was done to life or limb, but a sledge-runner had been partially broken, and could not be mended,—so said oolichuk—in less than an hour.
“this, then,” said the captain, “is our first obstruction, so here we will make our beds for the night.”
