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Steve Young, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 36. Chill Days |
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_ CHAPTER THIRTY SIX. CHILL DAYS "Ha-Ha! Ha-ha-ha! Ha-ha-ha-ha-ha-ha!" A regular rollicking burst of good, sound, old-fashioned, honest, English laughter, which rang out clear, bright, and cheery in the frosty air. "She'll pe laughin' at me, Meester Stevey?" "Yes!" cried the lad, bursting out into another peal, in which Skene joined with a good, sound, rattling bark. "Why, even the dog can't help it. Look at him!" "She'll pe only barkin' and not laughin'. Togs canna laugh." "Well, they can show their teeth!" cried Steve. "Oh, I say, Watty, you do look a guy! Your mother wouldn't know you." "Her ain mither wad ken her anywhere," said Watty proudly. "Not like this. Why, you look like an old bear with a sheep-skin on. Why, that coat's too big for you. What have you got underneath?" "She isna a pit too pig. She wants a muckle great-coat to keep oot the caud." "Why, you've got a blanket on under it!" "Ay. She chust happit a planket roond an' roond her potty, an' tied it wi' a bit o' line to keep it oop, an' she's waarm as waarm a' but her foots an' han's!" "I should think you are," said Steve merrily. "You're as big round as a hop pocket. You can hardly move." "Oh ay, she can move when she wants to move. Hae ye got any chilplains?" "No, have you?" "Cot any chilplains? Why, her han's an' foots are chust a' ane creat chilplain, an' when she kets wairm they ding an' itch till she cauld scratch awa' a' her skin." "I'll ask Mr Handscombe to give you something for them." "Nay, she winna tak' it. She canna' tak' pheesek." "Nonsense! I mean to rub on." "Oh, mebby she micht try a wee drap ootside." "Well, how do you like having the weather so cold as this?" "She wants to gang hame. When shall we sail back again?" "Next summer, I hope. What nonsense! How could we sail when we're frozen up?" "Preak a way oot. She wadna mind helping." "You don't know what you're talking about. But I say, I wouldn't dress up so warmly as that now." "Why, she's tressed oop wairmly!" "I've only got this sheep-skin coat on. If you dress like this now, what will you do when it grows cold?" "Phwat!" cried Watty excitedly. "Ye dinna mean that she can be more caud than this?" "Yes, this is nothing. Wait a bit till the sun does not rise at all, and it's all dark, and then I s'pose it's going to be tremendously cold." "Dinna say it, sir; dinna say it!" "Why not? It's true enough!" cried Steve. "Nay, she's lauchin' at her. Cauder! She could na pe mair caud than the noo." "Oh, very well; wait and see." "Put she's chust choking her." "Chust choking you!" cried Steve, laughing. "I tell you it's all true." "Hey, then, what's to pecome of her?" groaned Watty. "She couldna pear a pit mair caud, and she'll have to pe perried out here in the ice and snaw. Ye'll chust tell her ane thing, Meester Stevey. She winna lauch at her?" "No, I won't laugh, Watty. What is it?" "They keek oop a lot o' talk and clish ma claver aboot it kettin' dairk. Is she coing to hae ferry short days--shorter than they are the noo?" "There'll be no days at all soon. It will all be night." "Phwat! Dairk nicht, and no taylight at a'?" "Not a bit. The sun will not rise at all for about eighteen weeks." Watty looked out wildly from among the wool of the great-coat he had on and from beneath the fur of his peaked cap with quite an agonised expression. "She isna choking her?" "No, I told you I would not." "The sun winna coom oop at a'?" "No, not at all for eighteen weeks. It will be all night." "Then ta wairld's going to be at an eend?" "Nonsense! No." "Then the sun's coing oot?" "Not a bit of it." "Then whar she coing to?" "Down toward the South Pole." "She canna understan' it," said Watty piteously. "She thocht it was a' talk to frechten her. Then we shall nivver see the sun any more?" "Of course we shall. There'll be eighteen weeks without it, and then it will begin to get lighter again more and more, till the sun keeps up in the sky like it did when we came up here just now. You understand?" "Nay, she dinna understan' it a pit." "But you saw that the sun did not set for a long time?" "Yes, she saw tat; but she nivver understood it a pit." "Well, it is puzzling," said Steve. "It took me some time to get it into my head, but I do pretty well understand it now. Why, Watty, if we stood at the North Pole at midsummer, we should see the sun go round and round in the sky, and then every day get a little lower and a little lower, till it was only just in sight; and then still lower, till it disappeared altogether." "Does she mean went oot o' sicht a' thegither?" "Yes." "And wad she hae to stan' recht o' the top o' the pole to see tat?" "No, at the Pole. You don't think there's a wooden pole there, do you?" "Ay. Andra says she's a creat pig pole, an' ta wairld turns roond and roond upon her." "The world turns round and round; but there's no wooden pole, only one spot they call the Pole." "An' ye can see the sun go roond like tat, Meester Stevey?" "You could if you could get there. Nobody has ever been so far north. I don't think anybody has been so far before as this." "Then how do they know?" "Oh, by calculations and books." "She dinna pelieve it." "Oh, it's quite true, though." "What, tat ta sun coes roond like tat?" "Yes, I'm not deceiving you. Don't you believe me?" "Oh ay, she pelieves pecause she knows she's a chentleman; and when a chentleman says onything is true she is quite true." "Thank you," said Steve, smiling. "Put if ta sun coes on like tat, an' she's squirming oop an' squirming doon, she's cot something wrong wi' her wairks." Steve laughed. "Ay, put it's naething to lauch aboot, Meester Stevey. Thenk o' the sun coing quite oot for eighteen weeks. Oh, it's a waefu' place. What'll we do when it's a' nicht?" "Go to sleep like the bears do, and have a good long rest." "Go to sleep for eighteen weeks!" cried Watty in horror. "Why, she'd nivver wak' ony mair!" "Oh yes, you would; and besides, it will not be quite dark. There'll be the moon and stars and the aurora." "She dinna ken onything apoot the roarer. Will she mak' it licht?" "Yes, beautifully." "Hey, but caud as it is the noo?" "Much colder," cried Steve. "Then she'll chust lie doon and dee," said Watty piteously, "for she canna bear to thenk upo' it. Cauder than it is the noo, an' her han's and foots like they are. Why, she'd be a' one creat chilplain ivery wha'! What wad her mither say if she knew?" The lads were out on the trampled snow about a hundred yards from the _Hvalross_, which looked, with its snow-covered roofing, like some long, low house, out of which three tall masts had grown. And as they were talking a hail came from the canvas-covered doorway at the top of the gangway. The resemblance to a low, long house was increased by the iron chimneys rising out through the snow and the big funnel of the boiler, from all of which black smoke was issuing; for, the ample supply of coal being so near, Captain Marsham had the engine furnace kept going for the sake of the heat given by the boilers, as well as from the fire itself. In fact, the engine-room and stoke-hole became favourite places with the men of an evening before bed, or after a long tramp round somewhere through the snow; for, now that they were fairly started in their battle with the arctic winter, the weather had to be very bad, and the wind very keen, for the crew to be kept out of their daily exercise. The loud hail came from the doorway, and a curious-looking figure like a diver in a fur suit came down the well-made flight of ice steps, and advanced to join the two lads. The resemblance to a diver increased as it drew nearer, for the face was almost completely hidden by the visor-like arrangement of the round, helmet-shaped cap, and in place of a visor's bars there were two large, round green-glass goggles which glistened in a peculiar manner when the object advanced, as if he were not only a diver, but a steam diver who was moved by some internal machinery which caused him to emit little puffs of steam at breathing intervals. "Morning, Mr Handscombe," cried Steve as he drew near. "Morning, my lad; but look here, you are doing a very foolish thing. We're below zero, and yet you're standing about here talking as if it were summer." "We haven't felt the cold, sir." "The more likely for the cold to be dangerous for you, my lad. A frost-bite comes on without the sufferer knowing about it, the cold making the part quite insensible to pain, and a bad bite may mean utter destruction of the tissue and the loss of even hands and feet." "Phwat!" cried Watty, forgetting his awe of the doctor in the horror of the announcement; "wad a man who was frost-bit lose her han's or her foots?" "Yes, if it were a bad case of freezing." "An' wad her han's or foots tummle off?" "More likely the patient's medical attendant would have to cut them off." "Coot her han's an foots off? What wi'--chopper?" "No," said the doctor, smiling at the lad's horrified looks; "they would be carefully taken off with a knife and saw. Surgeons are very careful." Watty groaned. "It's a' ower wi' her, Meester Stevey, an' she's ferry sorry she's iver fote and ca'd her, for she'll nivver see bonnie Scotland more." "Why not? What's the matter with you, my lad?" said the doctor. "She's ferry pad, sir. Poth her foots an' poth her han's is frost-pitten." "What! and you did not tell me? Here, come back to the ship, and let me have a look." "Na, na, na; she'll na gang wi' ye!" cried Watty. "But if they are frost-bitten I can perhaps do them good, and save you from a very bad injury. Come along." "Na, na; she'll keep her han's an' foots on as lang as she can," groaned the lad. "She winna let her tooch them." "Don't be absurd!" said the doctor angrily. "Steve, did you know of this?" "No, sir," said the boy, fighting hard to conceal his mirth. "I ought to have been told. Here, come along. Stop!" "Ay, she'll stop; she winna gang wi' ye." "Are your feet really bad?" "Ay, sir; but she shanna tooch them." "You have no business to walk," said the doctor. "I must have you carried, sir." "Na, na; she'll stay here." "Bah! don't be absurd, boy. I know what is best for you. Here, Steve, my lad, go and fetch two of the men to carry him in. I'm glad I heard of this in time." "Dinna gang, Meester Stevey; oh, dinna gang!" cried Watty. "I must; I'm ordered to go," cried Steve quickly, as he ran back to the ship, and then hunted out Andrew and Hamish from the forecastle to come and bear the lad to the deck. "She wass ferry well at breakfast," said Andrew. "She must ha' been eating something since then," for Andrew's ideas of illness were always in connection with eating or drinking too much. "Phwat will she say's the matter?" "He told the doctor he was very bad," replied Steve, "and you're to carry him." "She wass ferry sorry for the puir laddie, and she'll carry her on her pack." But Andrew was not allowed to carry Watty in on his "pack," but under the doctor's instructions, and, in spite of the lad's remonstrances, they passed hands under him, made him throw his arms over their shoulders, and prepared to start. "She winna go!" cried Watty, struggling faintly. "Take no notice of him," said the doctor; "he must be carried in at once. Now off!" Poor Watty was borne to the snow steps which rose right up to the gangway, carried in, and no sooner were they upon the gloomy deck, where they had to depend now for light upon a couple of swinging lanthorns, than the captain met them. The place was quite misty with the men's breath, which hung about like steam, in spite of the efforts made to keep the place warm; and things looked quite indistinct, especially about Watty, who had had to resign himself to his fate, and lay where he was placed upon the deck. "What is it--a fall?" cried the captain; "broken leg?" "No, frost-bitten," said the doctor laconically. "Take off that fur coat, my lads." The huge sheep-skin coat was opened and drawn from Watty's shoulders, leaving visible one of the blankets from his bunk doubled and rolled round him tightly, and held by a stout piece of cord that looked wonderfully like a portion of a walrus line. "Watty laddie," said Hamish, "she meant to keep hersel' wairm," and the men about laughed, all but Johannes and his companions, who were perfectly serious. "Ay, she tid: ferry wairm as efer wass," added Andrew. "Is it her nose?" "That will do, my men; let me come," said the doctor, kneeling down and hastily drawing off the big fur glove that Watty wore on his right hand, in spite, too, of a good deal of resistance on the lad's part. "Dinna lat him coot it off, Meester Stevey, sir," he whispered. "Her mither wadna ken her if she went back to Ardnachree gin she had nae airms and legs." "Humph! dear me!" said the doctor; "bring that lanthorn closer. Very red and inflamed, but that one's not frost-bitten." He held the hand close to the lanthorn, which was lowered by Andrew, and then knocked sidewise, for the lad sprang up sitting. "Then she wadna chop it off?" "No, no; lie still!" cried the doctor testily. "You had better hold him, my lads," said the captain; and Hamish and Andrew held him down again, bringing forth a fierce growl from Skene, who seemed to feel that if there was a struggle on he ought to be in it. "Down, Skeny!" said Steve sharply; and the dog uttered an uneasy whine. "Here, let me see the other hand," cried the doctor. "Na, that one's the waur!" cried Watty excitedly. "She's nae waur than this or my puir foots." "No nonsense," said the doctor; and he firmly but gently held the boy's other red and swollen hand to the light of the lanthorn. "Frost-bitten?" said the captain; but the doctor did not answer save by a grunt. "Ane's waur than t'ither," whimpered Watty. "And now about your feet, my lad," cried the doctor. "Oh, they're nane so bad as my han's, sir; only dings and tangs o' nichts." "There, get up, you young impostor!" cried the doctor, rising. "Frost-bitten?" he added, turning to the captain. "Nothing but a few chilblains. Here, you Steve," he continued, button-holing the lad, "did you know there was nothing the matter but chilblains?" "He told me his hands and feet were frost-bitten," said Steve. "Yes, but you knew better, sir," said the doctor, who had hold of the boy's arm and was marching him toward the cabin stairs. "Well, I--" began Steve. "Of course," cried the doctor. "I saw the twinkle in your eye, my lad. Look here, don't you play tricks with doctors; they get such chances for serving you out." "I suppose I ought to have spoken," said Steve; "but it seemed so comic to see him so sure that he was frost-bitten, and it's such a long time since we had a laugh that--" "Let it rest, Handscombe," said Captain Marsham good-humouredly. "Steve says it is a long time since he had a hearty laugh." "What!" cried the doctor. "Why, I heard him roaring with laughter not above an hour ago." Steve looked confused. "Of course," he said, colouring. "I'd forgotten that." "There, we don't want any apologies, my boy," said the captain. "Keep up your spirits, and other people's if you can. I want every one to have a good store of health and strength before the long night comes." _ |
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