The World of Ice by R. M. Ballantyne (digital e reader TXT) 📕

The sixth night after the hunting-party had left the ship, Grim and Fred Ellice suddenly made their appearance on board. It was quite dark, and the few of the ship’s company who were able to quit their berths were seated round the cabin at their meagre evening meal.

“Hallo, Fred!” exclaimed Captain Ellice, as his son staggered rather than walked in, and sank down on a locker. “What’s wrong, boy? where are the rest of you?”

Fred could not answer; neither he nor Grim were able to utter a word at first. It was evident that they laboured under extreme exhaustion and hunger. A mouthful of hot soup administered by Tom Singleton rallied them a little, however.

“Our comrades are lost, I fear.”

“Lost!” exclaimed Captain Guy. “How so? Speak, my boy; but hold, take another mouthful before you speak. Where did you leave them, say you?”

Fred looked at the captain with a vacant stare. “Out upon the ice to the north; but, I say, what a comical dream I’ve had!” Here he burst into a loud laugh. Poor Fred’s head was evidently affected, so his father and Tom carried him to his berth.

All this time Grim had remained seated on a locker, swaying to and fro like a drunken man, and paying no attention to the numerous questions that were put to him by Saunders and his comrades.

“This is bad!” exclaimed Captain Guy, pressing his hand on his forehead.

“A search must be made,” suggested Captain Ellice. “It’s evident that the party have broken down out on the floes, and Fred and Grim have been sent to let us know.”

“I know it,” answered Captain Guy; “a search must be made, and that instantly, if it is to be of any use; but in which direction are we to go is the question. These poor fellows cannot tell us. ‘Out on the ice to the north’ is a wide word. Fred, Fred, can you not tell us in which direction we ought to go to search for them?”

“Yes, far out on the floes—among hummocks—far out,” murmured Fred half-unconsciously.

“We must be satisfied with that. Now, Mr Saunders, assist me to get the small sledge fitted out. I’ll go to look after them myself.”

“An’ I’ll go with ’ee, sir,” said the second mate promptly.

“I fear you are hardly able.”

“No fear o’ me, sir. I’m better than ’ee think.”

“I must go too,” added Captain Ellice; “it is quite evident that you cannot muster a party without me.”

“That’s impossible,” interrupted the doctor; “your leg is not strong enough, nearly, for such a trip; besides, my dear sir, you must stay behind to perform my duties, for the ship can’t do without a doctor, and I shall go with Captain Guy, if he will allow me.”

“That he won’t,” cried the captain. “You say truly the ship cannot be left without a doctor. Neither you nor my friend Ellice shall leave the ship with my permission. But don’t let us waste time talking. Come, Summers and Mizzle, you are well enough to join, and Meetuck, you must be our guide; look alive and get yourselves ready.”

In less than half an hour the rescue party were equipped and on their way over the floes. They were six in all—one of the freshest among the crew having volunteered to join those already mentioned.

It was a very dark night, and bitterly cold, but they took nothing with them except the clothes on their backs, a supply of provisions for their lost comrades, their sleeping-bags, and a small leather tent. The captain also took care to carry with them a flask of brandy.

The colossal bergs, which stretched like well-known landmarks over the sea, were their guides at first, but after travelling ten hours without halting they had passed the greater number of those with which they were familiar, and entered upon an unknown region. Here it became necessary to use the utmost caution. They knew that the lost men must be within twenty miles of them, but they had no means of knowing the exact spot, and any footprints that had been made were now obliterated. In these circumstances Captain Guy had to depend very much on his own sagacity.

Clambering to the top of a hummock he observed a long stretch of level floe to the northward.

“I think it likely,” he remarked to Saunders, who had accompanied him, “that they may have gone in that direction. It seems an attractive road among the chaos of ice-heaps.”

“I’m no sure o’ that,” objected Saunders; “yonder’s a pretty clear road away to the west, maybe they took that.”

“Perhaps they did, but as Fred said they had gone far out on the ice to the north, I think it likely they’ve gone in that direction.”

“Maybe yer right sir, and maybe yer wrang,” answered Saunders, as they returned to the party. As this was the second mate’s method of intimating that he felt that he ought to give in (though he didn’t give in, and never would give in, absolutely), the captain felt more confidence in his own opinion.

“Now, Meetuck, keep your eyes open,” he added, as they resumed their rapid march.

After journeying on for a considerable distance, the men were ordered to spread out over the neighbouring ice-fields, in order to multiply the chances of discovering tracks; but there seemed to be some irresistible power of attraction which drew them gradually together again, however earnestly they might try to keep separate. In fact, they were beginning to be affected by the long-continued march and the extremity of the cold.

This last was so great that constant motion was absolutely necessary in order to prevent them from freezing. There was no time allowed for rest—life and death were in the scale. Their only hope lay in a continuous and rapid advance, so as to reach the lost men ere they should freeze or die of starvation.

“Holo! look ’eer!” shouted Meetuck, as he halted and went down on his knees to examine some marks on the snow.

“These are tracks,” cried Captain Guy eagerly. “What think you, Saunders?”

“They look like it.”

“Follow them up, Meetuck. Go in advance, my lad, and let the rest of you scatter again.”

In a few minutes there was a cry heard, and as the party hastened towards the spot whence it came, they found Davie Summers pointing eagerly to a little snow-hut in the midst of a group of bergs.

With hasty steps they advanced towards it and the captain, with a terrible misgiving at heart, crept in.

“Ah, then, is it yerself, darlint?” were the first words that greeted him.

A loud cheer from those without told that they heard and recognised the words. Immediately two of them crept in, and, striking a light, kindled a lamp, which revealed the careworn forms of their lost comrades stretched on the ground in their sleeping-bags. They were almost exhausted for want of food, but otherwise they were uninjured.

The first congratulations over, the rescue party immediately proceeded to make arrangements for passing the night. They were themselves little better than those whom they had come to save, having performed an uninterrupted march of eighteen hours without food or drink.

It was touching to see the tears of joy and gratitude that filled the eyes of the poor fellows, who had given themselves up for lost as they watched the movements of their comrades while they prepared food for them; and the broken, fitful conversation was mingled strangely with alternate touches of fun and deep feeling, indicating the conflicting emotions that struggled in their breasts.

“I knowed ye would come, Captain; bless you, sir,” said Amos Parr in an unsteady voice.

“Come! Av coorse ye knowed it,” cried O’Riley energetically. “Och, but don’t be long wid the mate, darlints, me stummik’s shut up intirely.”

“There won’t be room for us all here, I’m afraid,” remarked Bolton.

This was true. The hut was constructed to hold six, and it was impossible that ten could sleep in it, although they managed to squeeze in.

“Never mind that,” cried the captain. “Here, take a drop of soup; gently, not too much at a time.”

“Ah, then, it’s cruel of ye, it is, to give me sich a small taste!”

It was necessary, however, to give men in their condition a “small taste” at first, so O’Riley had to rest content. Meanwhile the rescue party supped heartily, and, after a little more food had been administered to the half-starved men, preparations were made for spending the night. The tent was pitched, and the sleeping-bags spread out on the snow, then Captain Guy offered up fervent thanks to God for his protection thus far, and prayed shortly but earnestly for deliverance from their dangerous situation, after which they all lay down and slept soundly till morning—or at least as soundly as could be expected with a temperature at 55 degrees below zero.

Next morning they prepared to set out on their return to the ship. But this was no easy task. The exhausted men had to be wrapped up carefully in their blankets, which were sewed closely round their limbs, then packed in their sleeping-bags and covered completely up, only a small hole being left opposite their mouths to breathe through, and after that they were lashed side by side on the small sledge. The larger sledge, with the muskets, ammunition, and spare blankets, had to be abandoned. Then the rescue party put their shoulders to the tracking-belts, and