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Steve Young, a fiction by George Manville Fenn |
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Chapter 42. The Way Out |
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_ CHAPTER FORTY TWO. THE WAY OUT Captain Young it was with his crew! For the rescue party which had gone out in search of the _Ice Blink_, and met with the fate of so many who penetrate the solitudes of the north, had been found and rescued by those they sought to save. Their coming, as they advanced toward the frozen-in _Hvalross_ cheering loudly, acted like an electric shock, and before they reached the deck with Steve, men who had been lying in hopeless misery shut up in their bunks came crawling out to meet the help which they knew must have arrived. An hour later Steve could hardly believe in the change, for the silence in the ship had given place to an eager buzzing of conversation; the fires were burning and sending forth their warm glow; and though in the cabin the captain still lay insensible, the doctor had been galvanised into life, and was talking eagerly to Captain Young. "So, Steve," cried the latter, "you are in command now, eh?" "Oh, nonsense, uncle! That is only what Mr Handscombe said," replied the lad. "Well, you must have been captain and crew, too," said his uncle, who was making a tremendous meal. "But you're a poor officer, my lad, to let your men get into such a low, exhausted state." "You don't know, uncle, how every one has tried," said Steve reproachfully. "Tried?" said Captain Young. "Why, when we came on board an hour ago your men pretended that they were all dying. Now they are feasting along with my lads as if nothing whatever had been the matter." "You don't know how reduced and helpless we had all grown, sir," said the doctor, coming to Steve's help; "and you do not think of the effect upon them of your coming with help when they had all literally lain down to die." "I know, I know, my dear sir!" said the bluff, red-faced, grey-headed man. "I've gone through it all. Last winter I saw my poor fellows go down one by one, till I was the only man about who tried to fight the darkness and depression; and all the time so utterly weak and despairing that I could at any time have lain down and given up all hope. But we got through the winter, and this year my lads have held up wonderfully, and have battled through with hardly one breakdown." "It is astonishing," said the doctor. "Perhaps so; but I daresay all of you would have fought through a second year far better than your first." Steve shook his head. "Nonsense, boy! It is principally the mind, and being used to things. You wrote at school, I know, 'Familiarity breeds contempt,' which, written simply, means, 'Bogies don't frighten you when you've seen them more than once.'" "But our poor fellows were very bad, sir," said Steve. "Yes, in spirits, my boy. Now they think it's all right, they get up and talk and eat and drink." "Well, but, uncle," said Steve, "see how different our position is now!" "Nonsense! It's all fancy, my lad. You're worse off now than you were a couple of hours ago." "Worse off?" cried Steve. "Of course. You have a dozen hungry men to provide for." "But you've come to save us, and brought us hope." "Where is it then, boy?" cried Captain Young. "You all had as much hope as we had--far more; but you gave up and smothered it. We haven't come to save you; we want you to save us." "I don't understand you," said Steve. "Then I'll make myself plain, my lad. You have a sound ship here in this fiord, well provisioned, and with plenty of fuel, besides having a doctor to take care of you. On the other hand, we have a ship sixty miles away, yonder on the east side of this great island or peninsula of a vast arctic continent, for we have not made out much; but our ship lies where it was driven ashore by the ice, crushed beyond repairing, good for nothing but to make us a house to live in." "Then you have been within sixty miles of us all the time!" cried the doctor. "Yes, sixty miles, I should say, south-east, and only found a way across the mountains during these last few days, and quite by accident; for they have always been like a wall to us till now." "But you have tried to get across to here before?" "Once; but our expeditions have generally been in the other directions-- south and east." "And you have kept on making expeditions in this terrible weather?" said the doctor. "Terrible? When it is quite calm, and the moon makes it like day," said Captain Young, smiling. "There, we have had a year's more experience, and have grown used to it. Whenever the weather was clear we have been out." "Then you have not come to save us?" said Steve, who had grown very thoughtful. "No, my dear boy; you have got to save us," said Captain Young cheerily. "We would not give up hope, but worked away; and at last we have found the help we wanted, for our ship can never sail again, even if we could get her afloat. You came to rescue us like the brave fellows you were, and here we are ready to be rescued and taken home to dear old England once again." Steve's face was comic in its perplexity. "We seem a nice party to save your great, strong, hearty men," he said. "Bah!" cried Captain Young. "We've done you good already, and you'll all soon come round and be able to help us sleigh all our treasures across the mountains whenever the weather is fine. What a gloriously snug position you are in here; far more sheltered than we." Steve exchanged glances with the doctor; and just then, looking very weak, Mr Lowe tottered into the cabin, the coming of the crew of the _Ice Blink_ having roused him too. "You steamed up this fiord, of course?" said Captain Young. "Yes," replied Steve. "Then there is only one winter's ice around you, and therefore you ought to be free by the end of July." Steve groaned. "What's the matter, my lad?" "You don't know that the ice-floes jammed up the mouth of the fiord after we were in." "Indeed! Well, boy, nature must unjam it when the ice is in motion again. Mouths of inlets are always opening and closing here. Let's wait and see. I want to see Marsham, though, look different from this." He had his wish, and within a week; for all idea of the _Ice Blink's_ going back was put an end to by a succession of terrible gales. When at last the weather settled again the moon was growing old, and a trip right up a valley on the far side of the glacier, where they had never explored at all, led them toward the mountains whose pass was so choked with snow that the party were forced to return to the _Hvalross_, where they were quartered for the next six weeks. Their coming and the example of the acclimatised men worked wonders, so that by the end of those six weeks there was hardly a sick man left; and when daylight and the hardened snow gave them opportunities journey after journey was made to the _Ice Blink_ for the most valuable of the skins the crew had collected, the rest being left in the hope of the _Hvalross_ sailing round to that side of the great promontory, so as to get within easy distance, and then load up with all worth taking. But that was never done, for it was quite the end of August, and a feeling of despair was creeping over both crews, as it seemed that they must prepare for another winter in the ice, when a terrific gale swept down the fiord one night. It had its results. All through the spring and summer the water had been rising in the blocked-up fiord, for that which had escaped from the chasm was very small in quantity since the crumbling down of the rocks that night; and consequently the _Hvalross_ rode some thirty yards higher than when she was frozen-in amongst the newly formed ice. The weight of this water against the ice dam was tremendous, and there was always hope that it would force its way through; but the piled-up floe held good till the night of the gale, when there was a heavy sea on, and the ship lay tugging at her two anchors, hard set to hold her own so as not to be driven down the fiord and crushed amongst the breakers. The canvas shelter had long before been lowered, and every one was on deck, waiting once more for the steam to be up sufficiently to enable them to go ahead a little and ease the strain on the anchors. At last there was sufficient pressure, and the familiar ting came from the engine-room gong, the propeller spun round, and the dragging at the anchors ceased. It was just in time, for all at once there was a fearful roar heard loudly above the rushing and shrieking of the wind. "Full speed ahead!" signalled the captain; and the propeller churned up the water now rushing by them at a terrific rate, while all gazed wildly at the sides, expecting to be swept down the fiord to destruction in the masses of ice. For the great floe dam which closed them in had given way at last, and for a short time their position was one of terrible peril. But the cables proved true, eased as they were by the full power of the propeller, and half an hour after the _Hvalross_ was riding nearly forty feet lower than she had been in the morning, with the way out to the ocean free. In those precarious waters no opportunities can be lost. A place open one day may, by a change of wind, be closed the next by the ice-floes; and in view of this the _Hvalross_ glided out of her prison deeply laden with the spoil of another summer in the far north, and with the two crews cheering loudly as they went. Then after various vicissitudes of being caught in the ice, freed, caught, and freed again, she made her way southward till the last lane in the ice-floes was threaded, and her head laid for Nordoe in the brightest of sunshine, and the deck in the long summer day feeling hot. There was a warm and friendly, almost affectionate, parting from the Norwegians, Johannes looking quite mournful when he shook farewell hands with Steve; but they were cheered loudly as they stepped on to the little quay, any sadness they felt being chased away by the many friends who pressed round them to welcome them back from the icy seas. Next morning the head of the stout little steamer was laid for home, and the crew gave vent to the heartiest of cheers, which increased to a roar of delight as Andrew, forgetful of all past suffering, made his appearance, proud and solemn-looking, to march round the deck with his pipes, driving Skene the dog below with crest and tail drooping, and his sharp, white teeth bared to the gums. Then all settled down to the quiet monotony of the voyage home, for the stormy times were past, and the vessel glided south, heavily laden, but steady, and looking, as Steve said, perfectly satisfied with having well done her work. And so she had, for every man who had sailed was returning safe and sound, and she was bringing back the captain and crew of brave men for whom they had gone in search. "I feel convinced," said Captain Marsham one evening, "that we were the first visitors to those icy shores." "Yes," said Captain Young; "I doubt whether any one ever reached so far north before; but I don't like leaving my ship and so much valuable cargo behind." "Let them rest for the next who go there," said Captain Marsham. "It would have been madness to have run the risk of being caught in the ice again." "Yes, we had enough darkness and cold to last some time." Steve went out on deck, and found Watty right in the bows bribing Skene to sit up with scraps of meat brought from the galley; but he ceased and looked shyly at the boy as he advanced. "Well, Watty," cried Steve, "we shall soon be home again now, all alive and well." "Ay, she'll sune pe seeing Glasgie, and her puir auld mither ance again." "How should you like to go up north once more?" Watty shook his shock head. "The pear's grease is peautiful, Meester Stevey, and she ton't mind the chilplains after a pit; but it's a' tat tairkness mak's her hairt sair. Hey, but it's a waefu' place." "Then you wouldn't care to go again?" "Na," said Watty; "put if she ganged there acain to fetch the ither ship she'd gang wi' her." "You would, Watty?" "Ay, tat she would, and to the ferry wairld's end." [THE END] _ |
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