The Giant of the North - Robert Michael Ballantyne (good e books to read .txt) 📗

again shifted so as to carry the kites further to the west, the pace became much slower, and the leeway, or drift to leeward, considerable. Ultimately the wind blew straight to the west, and the boats ceased to advance. "This won't do, uncle," said Leo, who was close astern of the _Faith_, "I'm drifting bodily to leeward, and making no headway at all."

"Down with the tops,--I mean, the kites," shouted the Captain. "Pass the word to Alf."

Accordingly, the kites were reeled in, the regulators being so pulled and eased off that they were kept just fluttering without tugging during the operation. When, however, they passed out of the wind-stratum into the region of calm which still prevailed immediately above the sea, the kites descended in an alarming manner, swaying to and fro with occasional wild swoops, which rendered it necessary to haul in on the lines and reel up with the utmost speed.

Captain Vane was very successful in this rather difficult operation. While he hauled in the line Benjy reeled it up with exemplary speed, and the kite was finally made to descend on the boat like a cloud. When secured the locking-cross was removed, the distending-rods were folded inwards, the restraining, or what we may term the waist-band was applied, and the whole affair was changed into a gigantic Mrs Gamp umbrella. Being placed in the bow of the boat, projecting over the water, it formed a not ungraceful though peculiar bowsprit, and was well out of the way.

Leo and Butterface were equally successful, but poor Alf was not so fortunate. The too eager pursuit of knowledge was the cause of Alf's failure as has often been the case with others! He took on himself, as chief of his boat, the difficult and responsible task of hauling in the line,--which involved also the occasional and judicious manipulation of the regulating cord, when a sudden puff of wind should tend to send the kite soaring upwards with six or eight horse-power into the sky. To Ivitchuk was assigned the easy task of gathering in the "slack" and holding on to Alf if a sudden jerk should threaten to pull him overboard. Anders reeled up.

Just as the kite was passing out of the windy region above into the calm region below Alf beheld floating near the boat a beautiful, and to him entirely new, species of marine creature of the jelly-fish kind. With a wild desire to possess it he leaned over the boat's edge to the uttermost and stretched out his left hand, while with his right he held on to the kite! Need we say that the kite assisted him?--assisted him overboard altogether, and sent him with a heavy plunge into the sea!

Ivitchuk dropped his line and stretched out both arms towards the spot where the "Kablunet" had gone down. Akeetolik roared. Anders howled, and dropped his reel. Left to itself, the kite, with characteristic indecision, made an awful swoop towards the North Pole with its right shoulder. Changing its mind, it then made a stupendous rush with its left to the south-east. Losing presence of mind it suddenly tossed up its tail, and, coming down head foremost, went with fatal facility into the deep sea.

When Alf rose and was dragged panting into the boat, his first glance was upwards,--but not in thankfulness for his preservation!

"Gone!" he groaned, rising to his feet.

But the kite was not gone. The word had barely left his lips when it rose half its length out of the water, and then fell, in melancholy inaptitude for further mischief, flat upon the sea.

"Anything damaged?" asked the Captain, as he and Leo rowed their boats towards the _Charity_.

"Nothing," replied Alf with a guilty look, "the stick and things seem to be all right, but it has got _awfully_ wet."

"No matter," said the Captain, laughing at Alf's forlorn look, "the sun will soon dry it. So long as nothing is broken or torn, we'll get on very well. But now, boys, we must go to work with oars. There must be no flagging in this dash for the Pole. It's a neck-or-nothing business. Now, mark my orders. Although we've got four oars apiece, we must only work two at a time. I know that young bloods like you are prone to go straining yourselves at first, an' then bein' fit for nothing afterwards. We must keep it up steadily. Two in each boat will pull at a time for one hour, while the other two rest or sleep, and so on, shift about; till another breeze springs up. Don't fold it up tight, Alf. Leave it pretty slack till it is dry, and then put on its belt."

"Don't you think we might have supper before taking to the oars?" suggested Leo.

"I second that motion," cried Benjy.

"And I support it," said Alf.

"Very good, get out the prog; an' we'll lay ourselves alongside, three abreast, as Nelson did at the Battle o' the Nile," said the Captain.

Their food was simple but sufficient. Pemmican--a solid greasy nutricious compound--was the foundation. Hard biscuit, chocolate, and sugar formed the superstructure. In default of fire, these articles could be eaten cold, but while their supply of spirits of wine lasted, a patent Vesuvian of the most complete and almost miraculous nature could provide a hot meal in ten minutes. Of fresh water they had a two-weeks' supply in casks, but this was economised by means of excellent water procured from a pond in a passing berg--from which also a lump of clear ice had been hewn, wrapped in a blanket, and carried into the Captain's boat as a supply of fresh water in solid form.

Laying the oars across the boats to keep them together, they floated thus pleasantly on the glassy sea, bathed in midnight sunshine. And while they feasted in comfort inexpressible--to the surprise, no doubt, of surrounding gulls and puffins--Benjamin Vane once again gave utterance to the opinion that it was the most glorious and altogether astonishing state of things that he had ever heard or dreamed of since the world began!


CHAPTER THIRTEEN.


A GALE AND A NARROW ESCAPE.

This is a world of alternations. We need not turn aside to prove that. The calm with which the voyage of our discoverers began lasted about four days and nights, during which period they advanced sometimes slowly under oars, sometimes more or less rapidly under kites--if we may so express it--according to the state of the wind.

And, during all that time the discipline of two and two--at watch, or at sleep, if not at work--was rigidly kept up. For none knew better than Captain Vane the benefit of discipline, and the demoralising effect of its absence, especially in trying circumstances. It is but just to add that he had no difficulty in enforcing his laws. It is right also to state that the women were not required to conform, even although they were accustomed to hard labour and willing to work as much as required. In all three boats the bow was set apart as the women's quarters, and when Toolooha, Oblooria or Tekkona showed symptoms of a desire to go to sleep--(there was no retiring for the night in these latitudes)--a blanket stretched on two oars cut their quarters off from those of the men, and maintained the dignity of the sex.

But soon the serene aspect of nature changed. Grey clouds overspread the hitherto sunny sky. Gusts of wind came sweeping over the sea from time to time, and signs of coming storm became so evident that the Captain gave orders to make all snug and prepare for dirty weather.

"You see, lads," he said, when the three boats were abreast, and the kites had been furled, "we don't know what may happen to us now. Nobody in the world has had any experience of these latitudes. It may come on to blow twenty-ton Armstrongs instead of great guns, for all we know to the contrary. The lightning may be sheet and fork mixed instead of separate for any light we've got on the subject, and it may rain whales and walruses instead of cats and dogs; so it behoves us to be ready."

"That's true, father," said Benjy, "but it matters little to me, for I've made my will. Only I forgot to leave the top with the broken peg and the rusty penknife to Rumty Swillpipe; so if you survive me and get home on a whale's back--or otherwise--you'll know what to do."

"This is not a time for jesting, Ben," said Alf rather seriously.

"Did I say it was?" inquired Ben, with a surprised look.

Alf deigned no reply, and Butterface laughed, while he and the others set about executing the Captain's orders.

The arrangements made in these india-rubber boats for bad weather were very simple and complete. After the lading in each had been snugly arranged, so as to present as flat a surface on the top as possible, a waterproof sheet was drawn over all, and its edges made fast to the sides of the boat, by means of tags and loops which were easily fastened and detached. As each sheet overhung its boat, any water that might fall upon it was at once run off. This, of course, was merely put on to protect the cargo and any one who chose to take shelter under it. The boat being filled with air required no such sheet, because if filled to overflowing it would still have floated. All round this sheet ran a strong cord for the crew, who sat outside of it as on a raft, to lay hold of if the waves should threaten to wash them off. There were also various other ropes attached to it for the same purpose, and loops of rope served for rowlocks.

When all had been arranged, those whose duty it was to rest leaned comfortably against the lumps caused by inequalities of the cargo, while the others took to their oars.

"It's coming!" cried Benjy, about half-an-hour after all had been prepared.

And unquestionably it _was_ coming. The boy's quick eyes had detected a line on the southern horizon, which became gradually broader and darker as it rose until it covered the heavens. At the same time the indigo ripple caused by a rushing mighty wind crept steadily over the sea. As it neared the boats the white crests of breaking waves were seen gleaming sharply in the midst of the dark blue.

"Clap the women under hatches," shouted the Captain, with more good sense than refinement.

Benjy, Butterface, and Anders at the word lifted a corner of their respective sheets. Obedient Toolooha, Oblooria, and Tekkona bent their meek heads and disappeared: The sheets were refastened, and the men, taking their places, held on to the cords or life-lines. It was an anxious moment. No one could guess how the boats would behave under the approaching trial.

"Oars out," cried the Captain, "we must run before it."

A hiss, which had been gradually increasing as the squall drew near, broke into a kind of roar, and wind and waves rushed upon them as the men bent their backs to the oars with all their might.

It was soon found that the boats had so little hold of the water that the wind