Chapter 12. A Strange Peril

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_ CHAPTER TWELVE. A STRANGE PERIL

It seemed hard to believe, so rapidly had the change taken place. Only a few minutes before, and they were gliding along with the blue sky above and the air perfectly clear; now everything was shut out, even Johannes in the bows of the boat looking indistinct from where Steve and the captain were seated in the stern.

Captain Marsham made no verbal reply to the warning of the Norseman, but his right arm which held the steering oar grew rigid, and he did not stir from his position.

Steve was no experienced sailor, but he had seen plenty of the last fog, and as he sat there growing anxious the following problem presented itself to him after the fashion of the mathematical studies at school, and based on the difficulty of making a way through what was little better than black darkness. Let A, B, and C represent the points of a triangle. If three parties start together from those points to reach a common centre, and travel at different rates of speed, when will they meet?

"It looks as if the answer is--never," thought Steve. "Why, the _Hvalross_ is steaming faster--we saw her; and she'll go right on and leave us behind. This fog, too, may last for days."

"Keep cool, my lad," said the captain in a low voice; "we shall soon be on board. Listen, and try if you can hear the beat of the propeller."

Those words sent a hopeful thrill through the boy, just as his spirits were getting very low indeed, and he leaned over the boat's side listening, but the regular dip, dip of the oars was all he could distinguish. He did not speak; there was no need.

"Steady!" cried the captain suddenly, and his voice sounded as if it were shut in. "Lie on your oars for a few moments. Listen for the beat of the steamer."

There was dead silence then, and Steve began to realise for the first time in his life the meaning of the word "lost."

But no sound came to their ears from out of the mist which now surrounded them, and seemed to arch them in as if they were in a dark grey cell just big enough to hold the boat.

"Had we better cast off the fish, sir," said Johannes at last, "and pull hard?"

"No," said Captain Marsham; "matters are not so desperate as that. Here, Steve boy, your voice is the youngest and most likely to pierce the mist; give a good ahoy."

"Ahoy!" yelled the boy, and again, "Ahoy! ahoy!" but the hail sounded as if he were shouting with his head closely shut in a box, and all felt that it was useless to listen for a reply.

"You hail, Johannes, as you would do if alone."

The Norseman rose up, placed his hands to his mouth, and uttered a bellowing roar. But though this was repeated again and again there was no reply.

"Give way!" cried the captain, and the oars began to dip, the men rowing steadily without a word, trusting themselves entirely to their captain as the one who must know best under the circumstances; while Steve, who felt that he ought to be perfectly calm and cool, knew that moment by moment he was growing more nervous and uncomfortable, haunted as he was by the idea that they might never reach the _Hvalross_, and be left alone in that icy solitude, without weapons or provisions, to try and reach Jan Mayen, and find the refuge they had thought possible for the others.

"There is the wrecked ship," he said to himself, as thoughts came swiftly; "it would do for a shelter, and we should have to live on sea-birds, unless we could find that after all there are some stores buried in the ship's hold under the sand."

"Steady!" cried the captain just then, interrupting the flow of his wild thoughts; and the men rested on their oars again, while shout after shout was sent up, but with no reply.

"We must have come far enough," muttered Captain Marsham; and he hesitated as he vainly tried to pierce the dense medium which surrounded them. "We'll lie on our oars and drift a little while," he said aloud; "the fog will pass over soon. What do you say, Johannes?"

"One never knows, sir," replied the man gravely; "but it is of no use to go on rowing; we must have passed the ship, for there is a strong current here."

"Well, we shall see."

They sat listening till, growing fidgety, Steve turned to lean over the stern and take hold of the rope which held the beluga. The great fish-like creature yielded to the drag and came close up, but its head was hardly discernible, and it looked so weird and strange that the boy loosed his hold with a shudder, expecting that it would float away. But it remained stationary for a few moments, and then, urged by the current, rubbed heavily against the boat's side, imperceptibly altering its position by dragging round the stern.

After listening patiently for some time, the captain drew a little compass from his pocket and placed it beside him on the thwart, waiting till it was steady, when he exclaimed in quite a startled tone:

"Which way were we pulling, my men?"

"About due west, sir."

"But the boat's head lies south, and we have been going right away from the steamer. Here, pull hard starboard, backwater port!" he cried; and as the oars dipped he bent down and watched the compass till he found the boat's head pointing north-east, when he shouted, "All together: give way!"

It was a relief to feel that something was being done to extricate them from their awkward predicament, and the men pulled hard for the next ten minutes or so, when, at a word from Captain Marsham, they easied, and a fresh howl was sent forth to penetrate the fog. But this had no better result than the last, and once more the order was given to pull and obeyed with fresh vigour, when Steve suddenly leaped up.

"I heard it then," he said.

"Hold hard!" cried Captain Marsham, and the oars hung dripping over the side. "Heard what, my lad?"

"The steamer's whistle, quite plainly."

There was a dead silence at this as all listened, but not a sound reached them but the drip, drip, drip of the water from the blades of the oars.

"Mistaken, I'm afraid, Steve, my lad," said the captain. "Any one of you hear the whistle?"

There was no reply.

"Give way, my lads."

Splash went the oars, and at that moment Steve cried excitedly:

"There it is again, right astern!"

"Nonsense, boy!" said the captain;--"imagination. We should have heard it too. Pull, my lads, pull."

The men dragged at their oars, and Steve sank down in his place feeling abashed, but perfectly certain all the same that he had heard the whistle. At the end of a few minutes the captain said kindly:

"It's very easy to be deceived, my lad, and to fancy we hear that which we wish to hear. Johannes, come aft here, and cast off this little fish. We shall have enough to do without towing it."

"Cast it off, sir?" said the man as soon as he had passed the rowers, and he opened his great knife slowly.

"Yes; it is too heavy to drag. Well, why do you hesitate?"

"I was thinking, sir."

"Well, think afterwards. Don't cut the rope; you can untie it."

"Yes, sir," said the man slowly; and in a voice which did not reach the others, "but had I not better tell you what I was thinking first?"

"Well, go on," said the captain shortly.

"We might want the whale--for food."

Captain Marsham gave quite a start, for there was so much meaning in those few words, suggestive as they were of their being starving in the open boat, and he sat there gazing full in the man's eyes.

"You think, then, that we may not find the ship?" he said in a whisper.

"The good God only knows," said the Norseman, taking off his cap. "We are in His hands; but it is our duty to provide for the worst."

"Yes," said the captain slowly, "you are quite right, my man; let the fish stay."

"There!" cried Steve, starting up again. "I'm sure I heard it then!"

"Steve!" cried the captain angrily, as he turned sharply on the boy.

"Yes, I heard it then," said Johannes slowly, as he held his hands behind his ears and leaned toward the stern.

"You heard it?"

"Yes; there again. Listen, captain."

"I hear nothing."

"No, it has stopped now."

Captain Marsham made an impatient gesture.

"There!" cried Steve excitedly.

"Yes, there!" said Johannes. "You heard it then, sir?"

"No," said the captain after a few moments' listening. "You must both be mistaken."

"No, sir," said the Norseman gravely, "I am not mistaken; that was a steamer's whistle."

"Then it cannot be ours."

"Perhaps not, sir; but it was a steamer's whistle, a signal, and it is dead astern. Shall we run back?"

"Yes; we must get on board something as soon as we can. This may be some whaler caught in the fog. Pull, my lads, and I will steer you round."

Captain Marsham looked down at the dimly seen compass on the thwart beside him, and gradually got the boat's head south-west.

At the end of half an hour's pulling the captain suddenly exclaimed:

"Yes, I heard it then! Did you?"

"I have heard it several times since we changed our course," said Johannes quietly.

"Indeed! and you, Steve?"

"Yes, sir, I've heard it, too."

"Then why didn't you speak?"

Steve was silent, and the captain listened again.

"Yes, that is a steamer's whistle undoubtedly, and perhaps not very distant."

"She can't be very far away, sir. If she were, we could not have heard her at all."

The men were cheery now, and pulled with a steady stroke, making but little way on account of the heavy load they were towing; but the fact of their hearing the vessel, of which there was no doubt now, inspirited them.

"Stop!" said the captain suddenly. "Now, Steve, hail!"

As the boy sent forth as loud an ahoy as his lungs would allow there was a dull, smothered wail off astern, very near at hand, evidently, one moment, and the next sounding distant and far away.

"Hail again!" cried the captain; and this time Johannes gave forth one of his hoarse, deep roars, the sound seeming to return upon them, but there was no reply.

"Hail again, Steve," and the boy shouted; but still without result.

Then Johannes sent forth another of his sonorous roars, and all laid on their oars and listened, when, so softly as to be almost imperceptible as the men held their breath, there came a low hail, which grew fainter and fainter and then died away.

"That was the _Hvalross_, I'm sure!" cried Steve excitedly, as the boat's course was altered once more.

"Yes; and she's hanging about to find us," said the captain. "Cheer up, my lads. She won't go far without trying back; she can't be far away."

The men tugged at their oars, but there was no answering cheer; even the great Norseman was silent, while, as Steve settled down in his place once more, he felt as if they were to be left to take their chance on the outskirts of the region of ice, for, after signalling till they were weary, the _Hvalross_ must be steaming right away. _

Read next: Chapter 13. Occupants Of The Deep

Read previous: Chapter 11. The White Whale Shoal

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