Chapter Three.

We found tramping across the rough ground very fatiguing, for in most places it was soft and spongy, except where we crossed more level ridges of bare rock. Already the grass was beginning to grow, and flowers were opening their petals, although most of the streams were partially frozen and we could only cross them by wading halfway up to our knees in slush. As yet we had not got sufficiently near to any deer to give us a chance of obtaining some venison, for which we were longing with the appetites of half-starved men, nor had we been able to catch any birds.

“We shall have to get over to where the walruses are, and it will be hard if we don’t get enough then to fill us up to the throats,” observed Sandy, “though we may chance to find fowl rather scarce.”

On we trudged, mile after mile, drawing in our belts and keeping up our spirits, urged forward by hope. At last my brother Andrew, who was leading, reached the top of a high rocky ledge, which lay directly across our course, when he turned round and made a signal to us with his hand to approach cautiously. I followed, Sandy came next. We soon climbed up the rock, when we saw before us a low shore and lofty hills in the distance. The ice was in great part melted. Near the shore were countless wild fowl, assembled in large flocks,—swans, geese, ducks, snipes, terns, and many others. Scrambling down the rock, we were soon blazing away right and left. In a few minutes we killed a sufficient number of birds to afford us an ample feast. The question was how to cook them, as the stems of the largest trees were less in circumference than our small fingers. We managed, however, to collect a sufficient quantity of moss and twigs to make up a diminutive fire, at which we browned, though we could not thoroughly cook, our fishy-tasting fowl. We were, indeed, too hungry to be particular.

After we had satisfied our own hunger, we began to think of our companions. Two of the men volunteered to return with a supply of the birds sufficient for the crew, while the remainder of us continued our route to the west. We had to make a wide circuit round the end of a lake. As may be supposed, we kept a bright look-out for deer. We had gone some distance, when we observed a couple in a small valley where the snow had melted. To have a better chance of securing the reindeer, we divided; Mr Patterson, Sandy, and Ewen making their way along the side of the hill, while my brother and I proceeded up the valley, concealing ourselves among the rocks or in the gullies, hoping thus to get within shot of the deer. The wind came down the valley, so that we were to leeward, and had some prospect of getting close to the game without being perceived. Greatly to our satisfaction we saw that the animals were coming towards us, browsing on their way. We, therefore, knelt down behind a rock, waiting until the deer should approach. At length we could hear the sound they made, munching the herbage as they tore off the moss and grass. At this Andrew rose and fired at one, and I, imitating his example, aimed at the other. Greatly to our disappointment, as the smoke cleared away, we could see both the deer scampering off up the valley, but one soon fell behind the other. It had been hit in the shoulder. Slower and slower it went; we made chase, but it still kept a long way ahead of us. We both reloaded as we ran, hoping to overtake it and get another shot, should it not in the meantime come to the ground. Greatly to my delight, I saw the deer which I had shot suddenly stop, when presently over it fell. The other held on for some time longer, when that too rolled over. We had a long chase, though we scarcely knew how far we had gone. On looking round we could nowhere see our companions. I fired off my rifle to attract their attention, as we wanted them to assist us in cutting up the deer and to carry back the venison. Scarcely had I fired than I saw, coming out of a hollow in the side of the hill, a huge white monster, followed by two smaller creatures, which I at once knew must be a bear and her cubs. Her intention was evidently to appropriate our venison, an object which we were anxious to defeat. Andrew had seen her, and stood with his rifle ready for an encounter. I reloaded as rapidly as I could. We had neither of us shown ourselves first-rate shots, and I was afraid that my brother might miss the bear, and that she might seize him before I could go to his rescue. The animal sat upon her haunches sniffing the air; then, once more dropping down, she approached, resolved to carry off the deer or attack us should we attempt to prevent her. Andrew allowed her to get within twelve paces or so, when he fired at her head. The bear, instead of dropping as I expected, to my horror rushed towards my brother.

“Leap out of the way,” I shouted, for I dared not fire as he then stood, lest I might hit him.

He followed my advice, when I levelled my rifle, knowing that his life, and probably my own, might depend upon the accuracy of my aim. The bear, growling terrifically, came on, and when about three yards from me rose on her hind legs, stretching out her formidable paws, about to spring and grasp me in her deadly embrace. I pulled the trigger, and as I did so jumped back with all the agility I possessed, knowing that should my shot fail to take effect, I might—even though she were mortally wounded—be torn to pieces by her teeth and claws before another minute was over. Great was my thankfulness when I saw her huge body sink slowly to the ground, where she lay without moving a limb; still, as I thought it possible that she might not be dead, I joined Andrew, who was reloading a few paces off.

The bear cubs, who had followed her a short distance behind, now came up, and began pulling away at her body, not understanding why she did not move. We were soon convinced that she was perfectly dead. What was now to be done with the little animals? When they found that she would not move, they began biting at her savagely. However, they soon scented out the deer, and, while we were employed in cutting them up, came to us and eagerly devoured the pieces we threw to them, they not showing the slightest fear of us, nor anger at the way we treated their mother.

We had now more meat than we could carry away, even with the assistance of the rest of the party; and, as they did not appear, we each took a heavy load and prepared to set off.

Andrew, who was anxious to take the little creatures on board, suggested fastening some lines we had in our pockets round their necks to lead them with us, but no force would compel them to budge. I tried, however, to get them to move by putting a small piece of meat a short distance from their noses, when they both darted forward to catch it. I then gradually increased the distance between the pieces of meat, and got them out of sight of their mother.

Following the traces left by the wounded deer, we were enabled to make our way with more certainty than we should otherwise have done. At last we caught sight of our shipmates, who were not a little astonished at seeing our two small shaggy companions, and highly delighted at finding that we had brought so fine a supply of meat.

On hearing of the abundance we had left behind, they wanted us to return with them; but we, having done our duty, preferred resting in a sheltered spot on the side of the hill, while they followed our tracks to bring away some more venison and bear’s flesh. In the meantime the little cubs gambolled together at our feet, occasionally coming up to get a suck at a piece of venison.

The party at length arrived, each man staggering under as much meat as he could carry. They all sat down that we might consult in what, direction we should proceed. Mr Patterson wished, as we had gone thus far, to continue on to the lee side, where he believed that a harbour would be found into which the ship might possibly have put, for he was certain she would not, if she could help it, approach the other side of the island. Should such be the case, we hoped to be able to get the boats round, either by the shore or by the ice. We had still three men who had accompanied us, and the boats’ crews would by this time be in want of food. Mr Patterson accordingly sent back Sandy and two of them, each carrying a load of venison and bear’s flesh. He directed the boatswain, after provisioning the men, to search along the shore, and ascertain if there was any possibility of getting the boat over it.

“We had better take the little bears with us,” said Sandy; “they’ll amuse the men, and, if the worst comes to the worst, we can eat them.” Saying this, and adopting our plan, he threw a small piece of meat before the noses of the little animals, who at once rushed forward to seize it, not aware that it was part of the flesh of their parent.

“You’ll be gorging yourselves, ye little gluttons,” observed Sandy, and, fastening a piece of meat to the line, he dragged it after him, whisking it away the moment the creatures got up to it. Thus enticed, they parted from us, their first friends, without the slightest sign of regret, eagerly following Sandy and the men. As it was important not to expend more powder and shot than we could help, we carried a larger supply of meat than we should otherwise have done, so that we might have food enough to last us for several days if necessary. Our progress was therefore somewhat slow, and it was not until the sun had set that we caught sight of the ocean, or rather of the fields of ice and bergs which covered it, with here and there a line of open water, showing that it was breaking up and being driven away from the coast. Descending from some high ground which we had been traversing, we found ourselves on the shores of a deep bay, on the northern side bordered by cliffs and rocks, but with a sandy beach at the inner end. It was already partially open, and although small floes floated about, some remained attached to the shore.

“This is just the place I hoped to find,” observed Mr Patterson. “If we are compelled to remain here we shall be able to obtain a supply of fish, while it is the sort of spot walruses and seals are likely to frequent.”

We had now to look out for a sheltered nook in which we could pass the night.

“We shall be able to have a fire too,” I remarked, as I pointed to a quantity of drift-wood, which lay above high water-mark.

“You and Ewen and Croil collect it then,” he answered, “while the doctor and I search for a sheltered spot.”

While picking up the wood I was separated from my companions, and found myself going in the direction Mr Patterson and my brother had taken.

Passing round some rocks, I saw several dark heads in the water, which I at once recognised as walruses. As I felt sure they would not land to attack me, I went on without hesitation. Presently I heard a shout. Looking round the rock I saw Mr Patterson, with his rifle clubbed, engaged in what seemed to me a desperate conflict with a huge walrus. Though he was retreating, the creature, working its way on with its flappers, pressed him so hard that it was impossible for him to turn and fly. I immediately unslung my rifle, which I had hitherto carried at my back, but dared not fire for fear of wounding him. I hurried on, endeavouring to get to one side of the walrus so that I might take sure aim, when, to my horror, the mate’s foot slipped, and down he came with great force. The next instant the huge monster was upon him, and was about to dig its formidable tusks into his body. In another moment he might be killed. I was still nearly twenty paces off, but there was not a moment to be lost. Praying that my bullet might take effect, I lifted my rifle and fired. Then, without stopping to see the result of my shot, I dashed forward in the hopes of still being in time to drag the mate out of the way of the monster’s terrific tusks. Thankful I was to see that the walrus was not moving, but still it might with one blow of its tusks have killed the mate.

Shouting to Andrew, who was, I supposed, not far off, I sprang forward. The walrus was dead, and so I feared was the mate. Not a sound did he utter, and his eyes were closed. It was with the greatest difficulty that I could drag him from under the body of the walrus. Again and again I shouted, and at last Andrew appeared, his countenance expressing no little dismay at what he beheld.

“He is still alive,” he said, after he had examined the mate. “The walrus has not wounded him with its tusks, but has well-nigh pressed the breath out of his body, and may possibly have broken some of his ribs. We’ll carry him to a dry cave I have just found, in which we can light a fire, and I hope he’ll soon come round. Get Ewen and Croil to assist us.” I hurried along the shore and summoned them. We all four managed to carry the mate to the cavern. While Andrew attended to him, Ewen, Croil and I brought the drift-wood we had collected, and getting some dry moss from the rocks to kindle a flame, we soon had a fire blazing.

Andrew reported unfavourably of the mate. Two of his ribs were broken, and his legs fearfully crushed.

“Much turns upon his having a good constitution to enable him to get over it,” observed my brother. “He has been a temperate man, and that’s in his favour, but I wish that he was safe on board, as he requires careful nursing, and that’s more than he can obtain in this wild region.”

A restorative which the doctor always carried, at length brought the mate somewhat round, and he was able to speak.

“Have you seen anything of the ship?” was the first question he asked.

“No, we did not expect her so soon,” answered Andrew; “she will come here in good time, I dare say!”

“Then where are the boats?” inquired the mate.

“One is very much damaged,” said Andrew; “we must wait for a favourable opportunity for bringing the other to this side of the island. In the meantime you must try and go to sleep. In the morning we will see what is best to be done.”

The poor mate asked no further questions, but lay back in an almost unconscious state, while Andrew sat by his side, endeavouring to alleviate his sufferings.

The rest of us, having cooked some venison, made a hearty supper, but the mate was unable to eat a morsel. Andrew decided on sending Ewen and me back the next morning to obtain a cooking pot, in which he might make some broth for the mate, as well as to bring the sail of the damaged boat, which might assist to shelter him from the cold. Should it be found impossible to get the boat round to the bay, he thought it would be best to leave her there, and to let all the men come across, bringing the gear of the two boats, and as much of the wood of the wrecked one as they could carry. His idea was to build a hut, or to make the cavern habitable. It was agreed that we should catch as many bears and walruses as we could, so that we might have materials for constructing the hut as well as for covering ourselves.

“It will be wise at once to make preparations for the winter. We must provide shelter, food, clothing, and fuel, and this will fully occupy all hands until the cold weather sets in,” said Andrew. “Had we been cast on shore here at the end of the summer, we should in all probability have perished; but now I hope that we shall be able to support existence until another spring, when we may expect the appearance of a ship to take us off.”

Our plans being arranged, Andrew told us to lie down and try and get some sleep, saying that he would keep watch in case any prowling bear should pay us a visit, besides which he wished to attend to the mate. I begged him, however, to let me sit up for a couple of hours, promising to call him, should I fancy that our injured companion required his assistance. He at last consented. In a few minutes he and the rest of the party were fast asleep. I carefully made up the fire, then, after some time, feeling drowsy, I took my rifle, and went outside the cavern. The night was tolerably light, indeed the darkness in that latitude was of short duration. As I looked in the direction where the body of the walrus lay, I fancied I saw two or three white objects on the rocks. At first I thought that they were piles of snow or ice; but, watching them attentively, I observed that they were moving, and I had no doubt they were bears attracted by the body of the dead walrus, on which they expected to banquet. I now regretted that we had not had time to carry off the skin, which would of course be torn to pieces and rendered valueless. I was much tempted to try and shoot the bears, which I might easily have done while they were feasting, but I considered that I ought not to leave my post, and I did not like to awake Andrew, who required all the rest he could obtain, I therefore returned to the cave and sat down by the fire, thankful for the warmth it afforded. When I judged I had been on watch a couple of hours, I aroused my brother.

“You were right in not trying to shoot the bears, for even had you killed one the others might have set upon you, and we cannot afford to lose another of our party,” he said. “Lie down now, as you have a long journey before you; and I shall be glad if you can bring the men over here before another night sets in.” It was broad daylight when my brother awoke me and the rest. The mate appeared somewhat better, and, as he had no feverish symptoms, Andrew expressed his belief that he would recover. Having breakfasted and done up a portion of the cooked venison for provisions during our journey, Ewen and I set off, leaving Croil to assist my brother in taking care of the mate. Andrew charged us not to expend our powder on birds, or we might have shot as many as we required. Every hour they were arriving in large flocks on their way to still more northern regions, where they might enjoy the long summer day without interruption. I will not describe the journey, which we managed to accomplish in about six hours. Sandy, who came to meet us, reported that the men were behaving well, thankful for the food we had sent them; but, as far as he could judge, it would be impossible to get the boat round for the present, either over the ice or across the land. All hands therefore were ready to obey the directions Andrew had sent them. While Ewen and I rested, they made up the loads each man was to carry. As to launching the boat among the rocks which fringed that side of the island, it was clearly impossible unless in the calmest weather, without the risk of her being knocked to pieces; for the sea continually rolled in huge masses of ice, which with thundering sound were shivered into fragments. It seemed surprising that we had escaped, when we looked at the spot where we had landed.

“We are all ready, and if you and Ewen think you can trudge back by the way you have come, we’ll set out at once,” said Sandy.

“All right,” we answered, springing to our feet and taking our rifles, with a few articles—all the men would let us carry—we led the way.

The men, however, had not taken any of the shattered boat, or oars, or spars, and it would, therefore, be necessary to make another journey to bring them across. The other boat was turned bottom upmost, out of the reach of the highest tide, with the things we had to leave placed under her. We took longer to perform the journey back than we had occupied in coming, as the men, with their heavy loads, could not proceed as fast as Ewen and I had done. On approaching the bay we looked out for Croil, whom we expected to see on the watch for us. He was nowhere visible. We shouted to give notice that we were near, but no reply reached us.

“He is probably in the cave assisting the doctor,” observed Ewen. “I hope the mate is not worse.”

On getting near the shore, however, we saw my brother, who had just come out of the cave. He waved to us to hasten on.

“Thank heaven you are come!” he said. “I am very anxious about young Croil. He went away a couple of hours ago to collect drift-wood, and has not returned. I could not leave the mate, who still continues in a very precarious condition, to look for him, and I fear that some accident has happened; probably he has been attacked either by a walrus or a bear, and, if so, I fear that he will be added to our list of casualties.”

“We must find him at all events,” I answered. “Should he have been attacked by a bear, we shall discover some traces which will show what has happened to him.”

The men, having deposited their loads, tired as they were, dispersed in all directions. Sandy, Ewen, and I went to the northward under the cliffs. Every moment I expected to see the mangled remains of the poor lad, or traces of his blood, should a bear have carried him off. Of one thing we felt sure, that he would have kept as close as he could to the beach, where he might hope to meet with drift-wood. Before long, however, our progress was stopped by cliffs which jutted out into the sea, though we saw that there was a continuation of the beach farther on. We had, therefore, to climb up and try to find a way down again to the level of the water. It was no easy task to climb the cliff, but we accomplished it at last. We went on for some distance, but so precipitous were the cliffs that it seemed impossible that we should be able to descend with any safety. Every now and then we peered over them, and as I was doing so I thought I saw an object lying close to the base some way on. I felt almost sure that it was a human being, while not far from it was what looked like the wreck of a boat. That it was poor Croil we could have little doubt, and that he had been killed by a fall from above appeared too probable.

Sandy, who was of this opinion, told Ewen and me to wait while he hurried back to obtain a coil of rope which he had brought from the boat, as also the assistance of some of the other men should they have returned. Ewen and I accordingly went on, and, carefully looking over the cliff, to our sorrow discovered that it was indeed our poor shipmate. That he had fallen from such a height without being killed seemed impossible.

“Take care that we do not share his fate,” I observed to Ewen, as I got up to ascertain if there was any less precipitous part near at hand, by which we could descend without waiting for the rope.

As far as I could discover there were no marks on the edge of the cliffs to show from whence he had fallen. Going on a little further I found a narrow ledge, which apparently sloped downwards. Very likely he had attempted to make his way by this ledge to the shore. From its extreme narrowness I felt that it would be folly to trust myself to it, and that I should probably fall as he had done.

While looking about I heard Ewen exclaim—

“He is moving, I saw him lift his hand!” He then shouted out: “Hullo! Croil, we are coming to help you.”

It was a great relief to know that the lad was alive, though it made us still more anxious for the return of Sandy. At last he appeared. Now came the question, Who should descend? It was a hazardous task. Sandy insisted on going down, but I felt that I would much rather descend than have to hold the rope.

“No, no,” said Sandy, “I’ll trust you. I’ll stick this stake into the ground, and if you hold on to the upper end the rope will be firm enough.”

While we were securing the rope as Sandy proposed, a man with another length of rope came running towards us. It was fortunate he brought it, for the first was not sufficiently long to reach the bottom. Our preparations were speedily made, and Sandy, with the activity of a sailor, sliding over the edge of the cliff, glided down by the rope until he reached the spot where Croil lay. I fancied that I heard him shout out for help, so I told Ewen to hold on to the stake, and, taking hold of the rope, slid down as Sandy had done. I saw him, as I reached the bottom, supporting Croil in his arms.

“I did not want you to come, Hugh, but as you are here, you can help me in getting up the laddie. There is still life in him, but he has had a shaking which might have broken every bone in his body, though I cannot discover that any are broken. We must hoist him up gently, for he cannot bear any rough handling, that’s certain.”

I suggested that we should make a cradle from the wreck of the boat which had tempted Croil to try to reach the beach.

Sandy had some small line in his pocket; I also had another piece, and Dick Black—the man who had come to our assistance—had brought a whole coil, which he threw down to us. We soon formed a cradle, in which we placed the lad, securing it to the end of the rope. We had, besides this, lines sufficient to enable me to stand below and assist to guide it in its ascent. Sandy then swarmed up to the top, and he and our two companions began to hoist away while I guided the cradle from below. I was thankful to see Croil at length safely placed on the top of the cliff. The rope was then let down, and making a bow-line in which I could sit, I shouted to the rest to haul away. I felt rather uncomfortable as I found myself dangling in mid-air, for fear the rope should get cut by the rocks, but I reached the top without accident. I was thankful to find that Croil had come to himself, though unable to describe how he had fallen.

“We must mark this spot, to come back for that wood; it will be a perfect god-send to us, for we shall want every scrap of fuel we can find,” I observed.

The cradle enabled us to carry Croil without difficulty to the cave, where my brother at once attended to him.

Wonderful as it seemed, not a bone in his body was broken, nor had his spine received any injury, which Andrew at first thought might be the case. He thus hoped that the lad might get round and in a short time be as well as ever. He was far more anxious about the mate, who still remained in a precarious condition.

Supper over and a watch being set, we all lay down inside the cave, with our feet to the fire which blazed in front of it. And thus passed the third night of our residence on the island.

Chapter Five.

After visiting the unfortunate sloop, a fair lead appeared, with a pool of considerable size to the northward. Making all sail we stood on, hoping to find whales sporting within it. Before, however, we reached the pool the wind dropped, and the boats were sent ahead to tow the ship. This mode of progression was, however, before long rendered impossible, by the closing of the floes. We had continued to warp her along by carrying out ice-anchors, and working the windlass. We looked anxiously ahead, for the lane was becoming closer and closer, and it seemed not impossible that we should be compelled to form a dock to save the ship from being nipped. Saws were got ready, and every other preparation made for cutting a space in the ice sufficient to hold the ship. At length the captain seeing that the pool itself was contracting, gave the word to commence the work. All hands were required for the task, some used the saws, and others hauled away the blocks as they were cut out. It was hard work, but no one grumbled, as our lives might depend upon our getting it accomplished in time. Scarcely was it finished, than the floes closed, not with such force as we expected, but with quite enough to have crushed our stout ship into a pancake. Instead of such being the case, we floated free from harm in the basin we had formed. Here we were doomed to lie until the ice should open again and set us free. Some dark objects, which we guessed were seals, were seen on the edge of the pool. To employ our time, we set off to try and kill some of them.

Ewen had been eager to distinguish himself as a harpooner, and he and I went together. Observing a couple of seals, we crawled towards them so cautiously, that we got near enough, without waking them, to dart our weapons. As we rose to our feet, I struck mine with all my force into the head of the animal nearest me, almost pinning it to the ice. Ewen was not so fortunate, for although he fixed his harpoon into the animal’s body, before he had time to take a turn with the line round a rough point of ice near at hand, the seal plunged into the water, and he, holding on to the rope, was dragged after it.

I shouted out to him to let go, which, as may be supposed, he right willingly did, and fortunately was able to catch hold of my line which I threw to him, when I hauled him up safe again on the ice. His first impulse was to look over the edge, hoping to recover the line, but that, with the harpoon, had disappeared.

“Thank you, Hugh, for saving my life,” he said, “but I wish you could have caught the harpoon and line, for I shall be laughed at as a bungler.”

I did my best to console him, and Sandy, who soon afterwards came up, assured him that many a now famed walrus and seal hunter had commenced his career with equal want of success.

Several other seals had been killed, and the rest having been frightened away, as there was no chance of capturing any more, we commenced our return, Ewen assisting me in dragging our prize to the boat. A few hours after we got on board, once more the ice opened, and all sail being made we stood on, our hopes renewed of being able to capture as many whales as we required.

“We shall have a full ship!” cried the captain, rubbing his hands as we lay in the pool with a whale on each side, which had been killed within an hour after we reached the open water. Others were spouting in all directions, and two boats being away, it was hoped that we should have a couple of fish ready to take the place of the others, the moment the flensing was finished. But as I had already seen the rapid way in which the ice changes its position in those regions, I was not too sanguine. Scarcely had the blubber from the two whales been stored below, than the ice was seen to be moving, and as the boats were towing up a third whale, it began to close in on us, the large pool becoming a broad lane, while other channels disappeared altogether. Notwithstanding this the whale was brought alongside, and every effort was made to flense it rapidly. Still the ice was coming closer and closer. A favourable breeze just then sprang up, and a narrow lead which ran towards an expansive pool opened out before us. By remaining where we were we might get crushed before we could flense the whale, and with great reluctance the captain ordered it to be cast off and sail made.

We had not got a quarter of a mile, when, looking astern, we saw that the spot where we had floated was one sheet of ice.

“Better luck, next time,” said our skipper, who was always anxious to encourage the men.

That luck however was not for us. The lead as we advanced became blocked up with floating masses, some of them monster icebergs, amid which we forced our way until the wind dropped.

The boats were now sent ahead, some to tow, others to shove away with long poles the ice which impeded our progress. At length we reached an ice-hole, when the boats being hoisted on board, we made sail, hoping to find a lead on the opposite side, but we were to be disappointed—no opening could be discovered.

We, as usual, made fast to a floe, and the captain after a visit to the crow’s nest, expressed his intention of returning southward.

The announcement was received with a cheer by the crew, but there was no wind, and we had to wait for a breeze to carry us back the way we had come. That way was, however, no longer open: the pools were lessening in size, and in a few hours not a single spot of clear water could be seen.

Again and again the crow’s nest was visited, but each time the same report was brought. It was very evident that we were closely beset. Still our brave captain did not despair, and promised that, should the ice open again, it would not be his fault if the ship failed to make her way through it.

The object of the voyage, for the time, was entirely forgotten, all we thought of was to effect our escape. Never for a minute night or day was the crow’s nest empty, some one being always on the look-out to report the state of the ice. I frequently went aloft. Ice alone was visible in whichever way I looked: here piled into immense masses, huge fragments of glaciers detached from the neighbouring shores either of Greenland or Spitzbergen; there broken hummocky slabs resting against each other in every variety of form; or else vast level plains, over which it appeared that a sleigh might travel for miles without impediment; but water there was none, and I could scarcely hope that that frozen expanse would ever again break up sufficiently to allow us to force our way through. We knew that at all events we should have to encounter, to the southward, the numberless icebergs and the dense floes through which we had before passed. Had we found my brother David I fancied that I should have been happy, but his fate was still shrouded in mystery, and even if we escaped we should have to return without him.

The sun now remained between two and three hours below the horizon, but, short as was the night, the holes we had bored to obtain water were frozen over in the morning. Still we hoped that an equinoctial storm might break up the ice-fields and set us free. Before, however, we had been many days in this position, a dark streak was seen to the southward.

“There’s water there,” observed the captain with confidence in his tone; “it may be the open ocean.”

Almost immediately afterwards other tracks were seen indicating leads through the ice, and at length some appeared so near that the captain determined to open a passage through our floe to reach them by blasting and sawing. Hope revived within us that we should get through. Laborious as was the process, we persevered. Every fathom gained made us fancy that we were so much nearer liberty. The wished-for storm at length began to blow; the ice broke up. All the sail the ship could bear was spread, and away we steered with her head to the southward. What cared we now for the thundering blows received on her stout bows. We were determined to be free. Freedom we believed we should obtain, when to our dismay the first mate, who had gone aloft, announced a dense floe with icebergs ahead: to run against, it would have ensured our destruction, and we were compelled to steer to leeward of a floe, when, furling all sail, we made fast to it. The wind falling, a dense fog came on. The sounds which reached us showed that the ice was still in violent commotion, and, in the hopes that a passage might be found, the captain dispatched two of the boats to try and find a way.

I went with the first mate. We had gone some distance, when he announced that he saw an opening, and immediately headed the boat towards it. Looking up we could see a huge iceberg towering above our heads. We had great hopes that we had entered a lane through which the ship might pass, but the thickness of the atmosphere prevented us from seeing far ahead. The mate however was convinced that he was right, and we were about to put back when again the wind began to blow with a violence far greater than before, and the sea tossed and tumbled, moving the mass of ice about in a manner which threatened our destruction. The turbulence of the waters proved that the mate was correct in regard to there being an open sea to the southward, and we bent to our oars with all our strength, that we might return to the ship, and take advantage of the opening.

I remember that we were passing close under an iceberg, when I heard a terrific crash, and all was dark, and I knew that I was beneath the water. By a violent effort I rose to the surface, and the next instant found I was clinging to the ice. The force of the sea threw me still further on the berg until I was beyond the reach of the waves.

My position was awful in the extreme. The snow began to fall, driving against me with fearful force. I looked round but could nowhere see the boat or my companions. I alone had been saved from instant death, to perish, I believed, in a more lingering manner.

I expected ere long to drop off into the sea or to be frozen to death, still I resolved to struggle for life. How the time passed I could not judge. Every moment seemed an hour. Looking round, the fall of snow seemed lessened, and I caught sight of the ship. It appeared to me in the indistinct light that she was being dashed furiously against the berg, and that her destruction was inevitable. Should she founder I knew that my chance of life was slight indeed. I felt inclined to slip off and terminate my suffering at once, rather than attempt to cling on until overpowered by the cold; but I felt that it was my duty to prolong my existence to the last, and I did my best to secure myself by placing my feet on a ledge below me. I was conscious, however, that my mental and physical powers were both failing me. I looked for the ship, but could nowhere see her. Had she, with my brother and all hands, foundered? Such appeared too probable. Dreadful was the thought. I was fast sinking into insensibility when I heard a hail, and on looking down saw Sandy with an ice-pole in his hand, clambering up the berg towards me. In another moment his arm was around my waist, and I knew no more until I found myself in the boat and heard my preserver shout—

“Shove off, lads, he’ll come round in time.”

Opening my eyes I saw that the boat was pulling away from the berg, but I could nowhere perceive the ship. Were my fears then for her realised? I wanted to ask Sandy, but it seemed as if the power to speak had left me. Again and again I tried, but my lips refused to move.

“What is it, laddie?” asked Sandy, perceiving the efforts I was making, as he bent down his ear for a moment to my mouth.

I managed to utter “The ship.”

“She’s all right,” he returned; “she managed to weather the berg, and is now brought up to leeward of the floe, but she had a narrow scrape of it, and we thought for certain that she’d be knocked to pieces.”

My mind felt greatly relieved, but Sandy having to attend to the steering of the boat I could not again attract his attention. I was anxious to know what had become of the boat. I did not suppose it possible that she could have escaped. After some time I managed to utter the word “boat” loud enough for him to hear me.

“It is a sad business, the poor fellows are all lost. We saw the wreck dashing against the base of the floe, and that drew our attention to you. Although we saw you at a distance we at first took you for a seal.”

I asked no further questions. Some twenty minutes or more passed away before we reached the side of the ship. It was surprising that during the time I did not perish from cold. I was hoisted on board, and Andrew had me carried below immediately and put to bed with warm appliances to my feet and chest. At first I suffered great pain, but at length I began to feel a sensation of comfort and dropped off to sleep. I afterwards found that Sandy’s boat had not gone back to the ship as I supposed, but that the foggy weather clearing off she had got under weigh, hoping to find some channel, and that she had discovered the one we were attempting to pass through when the mass of ice had fallen upon us.

On awaking I felt greatly recovered, but my brother would not allow me to leave my bed. I observed that he looked very grave. I inquired if anything had happened.

“The loss of the first mate and the boat’s crew is a serious matter,” he answered, “but our own position is critical in the extreme. We have failed to get through among the icebergs, and are now passing through a lead to the westward. It is possible that we may get out by it, but if not we shall, too probably, be beset for the winter.”

“We’ll get through, doctor, don’t be cast down,” exclaimed the captain, who had overheard my brother’s remark. “We must keep up the spirits of the men, they’re rather low at having lost so many of our shipmates.”

I knew from the sounds that the ship was still making way. Sooner than Andrew had expected I was all to rights. On once more going on deck, I found that the captain was in the crow’s nest, looking out for a further lead, of which, from where I stood, nothing could be seen. There were a few water-holes and openings in the ice, none of them, except the one in which we floated, being wide enough to admit the ship. The sun was sinking towards the horizon, and a night of three hours’ duration was approaching. The captain on coming down ordered the ice-anchors to be carried to the floe to windward, and the ship to be made fast.

“We shall be out of this in a few hours, lads, I hope,” he said. “The ice will open again soon, though at present I see no lead to follow.”

Andrew sent me below soon after this. I was struck, when awaking at night, with the perfect silence which prevailed everywhere. It was evident we were not moving. The next morning when I went on deck, to my dismay I found that the pool in which we floated was completely frozen over. The crew were cutting away the ice from round the ship. It was thick enough to bear them. While they were thus employed, the floes around them began to move, emitting a rustling sound, or perhaps I might liken it to a suppressed roar. The ice in the pool cracked in all directions, and one slab was forced over another. The violence of the movement increased on every side. We could see huge masses of ice rushing together, one being piled over the other, until the appearance of the surface became completely changed. Every moment it seemed as if the ship herself would be nipped. The ice tumbled and tossed about in a most fearful manner, filling the air with shrieks and howls, for I can liken the noise it produced to nothing else. The hitherto level floes became piled up into mountainous masses, towering many fathoms above the deck. We could do nothing to preserve the ship. The captain, believing that any moment might be her last, ordered the crew to bring their bags and the provisions which we always kept ready for such a catastrophe up on deck. Should the ship be crushed where could we go for safety? The boats would be destroyed if placed on the ice. Though we might escape to it, we could only expect to be utterly overwhelmed.

We could now see water round us in various directions, but we were too closely beset to obtain any chance, unless some lane should unexpectedly open by which we might reach one of the pools to the southward. In about a couple of hours, however, the commotion ceased, but as it did so our chance of escape lessened. The cold became greater than we had yet felt it, and every floe and mass of ice was soon securely bound together. Although we had not had time to form a dock, one made by nature had preserved us.

Next day there was no change, except that the distant lanes and pools appeared to be closed. Although our captain must have seen that there was a great probability of our having to winter in the ice, he was unwilling to dishearten the crew by preparations until it was absolutely necessary. We, in the meantime, for the sake of taking exercise, made excursions over the ice, generally accompanied by some dogs.

Of course we carried our rifles, and Sandy, with some of the men, took their harpoons, on the chance of finding a seal or walrus on the ice or coming up to breathe through a water-hole. Ewen and Croil and I set off from the ship one morning, expecting to shoot some snow-buntings or other birds, or perhaps, should we get near a water-hole, to kill a seal. We carried provisions with us, as the air invariably made us hungry. The captain had charged us not on any account to lose sight of the ship. We had gone on and on, looking back every now and then, seeing her clearly enough. At last Ewen proposed that we should sit down under the lee of a huge hummock and take our lunch. Croil and I were perfectly willing to do this. We had finished our repast, which as may be supposed did not take us very long, when Ewen, looking up, exclaimed, “Where is the ship?”

She was not to be seen.

“Stay! I’ll climb to the top of this ice-hill, and I shall soon make her out from thence,” said Ewen, placing his rifle against a block of ice near the spot where he commenced his ascent. He found the task a pretty hard one.

“Perhaps we shall find it more easy on the other side,” I observed to Croil.

We both moved on, looking out for a part which we could both more readily climb up. We were not disappointed; it seemed so easy, indeed, that, slinging our rifles over our backs, we made our way up, expecting to meet Ewen at the top. We had nearly reached it, when we heard him shout out—

“Hugh, Croil, take care. I see a large bear coming along; he’ll be up to us presently.”

We looked in the direction Ewen pointed, and there, sure enough, we saw a large shaggy monster coming along leisurely, and sniffing the air as if he had scented us. Croil and I waited until Ewen joined us.

“We must shoot him, or perhaps he’ll manage to make a dinner off one of us,” I exclaimed.

“Dear me, and I left my rifle at the bottom of the hummock,” cried Ewen.

“Then stay where you are, and Croil and I will see what we can do,” I answered. “Should I miss, Croil, do you take a steady aim, while I retreat and reload.”

This was agreed on, and we descended the hummock to a spot whence we thought we could take a better aim at the bear. Just as we reached it, what was our surprise to see Master Bruin seize Ewen’s rifle and begin to walk off with it, looking round cunningly as he did so, as if perfectly aware that he was carrying off the means we possessed of injuring him.

“Fire! fire!” cried Ewen, “or I shall lose my gun.”

Ewen’s voice made the bear stop, and I advanced as fast as I could, being partially concealed by a projection of the hummock. Taking a steady aim, I pulled the trigger. My bullet struck the bear on the shoulder. He instantly dropped the rifle, and, turning round with a fierce growl, bit at the wound, but did not attempt to run off. This enabled me to reload. Fortunate it was that I had time to do so, for Croil, not being a good shot, missed; when the bear, growling horribly, and showing his teeth, began to move towards us; then, sitting up on his hind paws, he looked about him to make us out more clearly. I told Croil to reload and to stand by me with his rifle, that I might use it should my next shot not take effect. I prayed that my aim might be steady, and fired. Croil and Ewen raised a shout of joy as they saw the bear roll over, kicking his legs in the air. We let him kick, while I again got my rifle ready for action. We then advanced, intending to put the bear out of its misery, while Ewen, slipping down from the top of the ice-hill, ran to possess himself of his gun. The bear’s struggles, however, soon ceased, and we had not to expend any further powder and shot upon him.

“How are we to get him to the ship?” exclaimed Croil.

“Where is the ship, rather?” I asked.

“I saw her clearly enough from the top of the hummock,” said Ewen. “I was going to cry out when I saw the bear. We may drag the carcase part of the way, and then get some of the men to come and cut it up, and transport the remainder on their shoulders,” said Ewen.

This plan was agreed to; by going round the hummock we could see the ship, though she appeared a long way off. We hoped, however, by returning with so valuable a prize, we should be excused for having gone further than we ought to have done. We found that it was no easy matter to drag along the huge carcase over the ice, even where the surface of the floe was perfectly smooth. At last we had to give up the task, but how we were to find our way back to where we had left the bear was the difficulty, as the fur could not be distinguished at any great distance. At last Croil produced a red handkerchief from his pocket, which we secured to the end of a pole we had carried for the purpose of trying the ice. He then stuck it through the bear’s body, with the iron head fixed in the ice. Though the bear could not be seen, the handkerchief could be distinguished at a long distance off. We were pretty well tired when we got back to the ship, and the captain was beginning to find fault with us for having gone so far, when we told him of the bear, and he immediately sent four hands, under the command of Sandy, to bring it in, or at all events the skin, and as much of his flesh as they could carry. We three offered to set off with them, but I was secretly not sorry when the captain remarked that we had taken enough exercise for one day, and ordered us to go below and get some rest.

It was getting dark when Sandy’s party returned with our prize, cut up, however, into bits. They were received with a cordial welcome, as all hands were glad to get some fresh meat, which we had not tasted for many a long day.

Chapter Seven.

It was evening when we got back to the encampment. On casting our eyes towards the ship, her appearance, as she lay overlapped with masses of ice on her beam ends, could not fail to produce a melancholy feeling.

“She’ll never float again!” exclaimed the captain with a sigh. “We must make the best of things, however, as they are.”

The men had progressed with the house. It was already habitable, though much more was to be done to enable us to bear the piercing cold of an arctic winter.

Next day was employed in getting everything out of the ship, which could be reached, likely to be useful, as she could no longer afford us a safe shelter. We began to cut away the bulwarks, the upper planks, and indeed all the wood we could get at, to serve for fuel as well as to strengthen the house. While thus employed, the fearful sounds from which we had for some time been free, again assailed our ears. There was a sudden movement of our floe, while all around us, and especially to the northward, we could see the ice heaving and tumbling, huge masses falling over, and floes rising one above another. Should our floe be subject to the same violent pressure, a slab might slide over it and sweep us to destruction. Even should some of the more active manage to climb to the top, our house and boats and stores must inevitably be lost, and those who might have escaped at first would, ere long, be frozen to death.

The hours we thus passed, not knowing at what moment the catastrophe might occur, were terrible in the extreme. To work was impossible. At length, however, the disturbance ceased. The intense cold quickly congealed the broken masses together, and we were able to turn in and sleep soundly.

The next day all was quiet. The captain was of opinion that we should move no further north, and that, should our floe become detached, we might expect to drift to the southward.

The captain’s observations showed that at present we were stationary, but it was still doubtful whether our floe was or was not united to the main body. The captain, Mr Patterson, my brother, the boatswain and I, had been discussing the subject one evening as we sat in the hut, and were afterwards talking of the Aurora Borealis when I agreed to go out and ascertain if any of peculiar brilliancy was visible.

On emerging from the hut, I gazed up at the sky. An Aurora was blazing brilliantly, forming an irregular arch, from which showers of rays of many colours spread in every direction. I was watching it with intense admiration, and was intending to go back and call my companions, when one of the dogs which had followed me gave a loud bark. It was answered by a growl. Looking over the ice I saw two enormous shaggy monsters, who, sniffing the air, advanced cautiously towards me. The brave dog dashed forward. In vain I called him to return.

Satisfied that our visitors were Polar bears which must have come from the main land, I hurried back, closing the door behind me to prevent them from entering. The captain, mate, and my brother seized their rifles, as I did mine, hoping to kill one or both of the intruders. As we opened the door, a loud cry uttered by a dog reached our ears. One of the bears had seized the animal and was carrying him off, satisfied with his prize. The other was creeping on towards the hut. Our bullets quickly settled him, and he rolled over. We then gave chase to the other who was carrying off the dog, but we were compelled to stop and reload, and by the time we had done this, so rapidly did the animal run that he was far beyond our reach, and all hope of rescuing our canine companion was over. We regretted the loss of the brave dog. It was a lesson to us not to let the others loose until we were ready to assist in attacking any similar visitors. The bear was quickly skinned and cut up. The skin would serve us for clothing, the fat for fuel, the meat for food. This visit of the bears showed us that the field of which our floe formed part must be attached to the land-ice. Our captain being anxious to visit the shore, intending, should a favourable spot be found, to form our winter quarters on it—we agreed to set out the next morning.

Much to our disappointment, when the time came, the captain was unable to go. He was very unwell, and my brother forbade him to take the journey. As he did not improve, Andrew was unable to leave him, and it was finally settled that the mate, Sandy, Ewen, Croil, another man, and I should form the party to proceed to the land. We had a small sledge which had been manufactured some time before. To this we attached our remaining dogs, and loaded it with stores of ammunition and provisions, including food for the dogs. Each of us carried also a small load as well as our rifles and long poles to assist our progress. Our companions cheered us as we set off, several accompanying us part of the way from the camp. We were by this time pretty well accustomed to travelling over the ice, but we had great difficulty in making our dogs, who had not been well trained, pull together, and the mate, losing patience, declared that he would rather drag the sledge himself, and that he wished the dogs back again.

“If he were to try it for half an hour he would change his tone,” observed Sandy to me; “the doggies will get along well enough in a few days.”

“In a few days!” I exclaimed, “I thought that we should get to the shore by nightfall.”

“Many a night will fall before we reach it,” answered Sandy. “If we could go in a straight line over smooth ice, at a jog trot, the case would be different. We shall have to make our way in and out among the bergs and hummocks, and maybe to take a long circumbendibus to avoid any waterholes in our course; we are very likely to fall in with some, solid as the ice appears hereabouts.”

I soon found that Sandy was perfectly correct in his prognostications. For the early part of the first day we got on well enough. We had our choice of climbing over numerous ridges from ten to twenty feet in height, or going round until we could find a passage between them. We had thus made less than three miles when the night closed in on us. We then put up our tent, lighted our lamp, and crept into our sleeping sacks. Though our quarters were rather close, we were more comfortable than I could have supposed possible. We had a long night, and with the first streaks of dawn, having breakfasted inside our tent on coffee boiled over the lamp, we again proceeded. Our dogs, I should have said, slept outside, and they formed a sufficient guard to give us notice should any bears approach.

The next day we made even less progress than on the first, though we met with no accident to hinder us. Sometimes we dragged the sledge over the hummocks, and sometimes we went round them, the dogs preferring the former method, as while we toiled they sat up on their tails watching our proceedings with infinite satisfaction.

The next night I was awakened by hearing a rustling sound, which I guessed was snow falling, but I soon dropped asleep again forgetting all about it. In the morning I saw that the sides of the tent were considerably pressed in, and on drawing aside the curtain which closed the front, a mass of snow fell inside. Looking out, what was our dismay to find that we were entirely surrounded. Travelling which was before difficult would now be doubly so. However, on further examination we found that, having chosen a sheltered spot under a hummock, the snow had drifted round us.

We easily, therefore, forced our way out, roused up the half-buried dogs, whose noses showed their whereabouts, and having taken our morning meal doubled up our tent and then trudged forward, Sandy leading. We followed in line, thus making a path for the dogs who without difficulty kept up with us. Before long we came to a berg from which extended north and south a line of hummocks. It seemed to bar further progress. To ascertain which course to pursue, we agreed to climb to the top of the berg, leaving Ewen and Croil to take charge of the sledge. The mate, Sandy, and I, at once commenced the ascent. It was no easy work, and we ran great risk of slipping down again and breaking our limbs. Still, by persevering, the top at length was gained. We could see the land very clearly to the westward, and between it and us the ice appeared far more level than any we had hitherto passed over. To the north it was utterly impracticable. To the southward we discovered a passage which we hoped to reach in the course of the day. The mate’s belief was that we were close upon the land-ice, and that by pushing on we could reach it by nightfall.

Having made these observations we prepared to descend, but we found that the chance of falling when doing so would be far greater than when ascending. It appeared, however, from where we stood, that there was a slope on the southern side where we might get down with comparative ease. There was, however, a projecting ledge which must be knocked away before we could reach the slope. We had brought ropes with us, and Sandy passing one round his waist, begged the mate and me to hold it at the other end while he advanced with his staff at the point of which he had secured a huge lump of ice. Using this us a sledge hammer, he began knocking away at the ledge, and after a few blows the whole mass giving way went thundering down the slope.

“It’s just as well to clear that off,” he observed, “or it might have come down on our heads.”

This was the more likely when he told us that he had observed a deep crack, which had induced him to make the attempt to knock the ledge away.

We now descended and rejoined Ewen and his companions, who had been greatly alarmed at seeing the mass of ice come rattling down, supposing that some accident had happened to us, while they had with difficulty restrained the dogs from galloping away from them.

We now directed our course southward, and were not disappointed in finding a passage through the hummocks, which enabled us to get on the smoother land-ice. We had, however, soon to camp. To render our tent warm, having cleared away the snow, we built a wall round it which sheltered us from the wind.

On the evening of the second day after this, we reached the shore, which rose bleak and barren before us. Yet it was a satisfaction to set our feet on firm ground. We landed in a small bay, the shore for a short distance shelving up to the foot of the cliffs, which—as they extended round to the east—would, we agreed, afford us shelter from the more bitter blasts of winter. The rocks were bare and rugged. Here and there a few lichens appeared, which to our eyes, long unaccustomed to anything of a green tint, seemed very pleasant.

“This will do!” cried the mate, “if our shipmates can reach this, we may pass the winter far better than we should have done on the open floe.”

As we had but a few more minutes of daylight, we hurriedly pitched our tent on a level spot close under the rocks, piling up the snow around it as before.

The mate was anxious to return at once with the news of our success, and to guide the party to the shore. He hoped, with a good night’s rest, to be able to set off early in the morning, and to perform a great part of the distance before nightfall.

Sandy suggested, that it would be as well if some of us remained, as it would be necessary to carry but few articles on the sledge, and the dogs would the more easily perform the journey. He offered to go with Ewen and Croil, but to this the mate would not agree, and announced his intention to set off with Croil, leaving the rest of us to build a snow-hut for the reception of the party.

We had brought, I should have said, a couple of lamps with sufficient oil. We were therefore provided with one of the chief necessaries of life. We hoped also to shoot a bear, or perhaps some birds, to increase our stock of provisions.

When morning returned, however, a storm was blowing outside the bay, though within we were tolerably sheltered from its fury. To have attempted to cross the ice while it continued would have been madness.

The mate and Sandy therefore assisted us in putting up a hut. We had abundance of snow from a drift collected on the opposite side of the bay, though we soon exhausted that which lay immediately round us. The storm, however, increased to such an extent that we were compelled to take shelter within our tent, which, had it not been surrounded by a snow wall, would inevitably have been blown down. As we sat crowded together in our tent, waiting for the cessation of the storm, the howling and roaring of the wind among the rocks in no way served to raise our spirits, but rather increased the gloomy forebodings of evil which stole over us.

The mate announced his intention of taking a look round, to see what prospect there was of the weather clearing.

“Stay here, lads,” he said, taking up his gun, “there’s no reason why you should be exposed to the cold. I’m more accustomed to it than you are.”

“Not more than me, sir,” said Sandy; “I’ll go with you, if you like.”

“No, no, boatswain. You stay and look after the others. You are older than I am, at all events, and require more rest.”

Saying this the mate went out and closed the door of the tent.

Ewen, Croil, and the seaman were asleep. Sandy and I talked on for some time.

“Wonder the mate doesn’t come back,” said the boatswain. “I’m afraid something has happened to him. He can’t have lost his way on the ice, but he may have slipped over a rock, or into a seal hole, if any are to be found close in shore.”

We waited a little longer, and at length Sandy, starting up, exclaimed, “We must go and look for him.”

Just then our ears were saluted by a loud roar, which made the rest of the party jump up. We all hastened out. No one was to be seen.

“Where did the sound come from?” asked Sandy. “I thought it was quite near.”

“From the other side of the rock,” I answered.

We hastened towards the spot, in the direction to which I pointed. We all had our guns in our hands ready for an encounter with a bear, which we expected to see. What was my horror on getting round the rock to discover the mate on the ground, a huge shaggy monster standing over him. We crept on, afraid, should we shout, that the bear might carry off his victim. Whether the mate was dead or alive, we could not tell, but he lay perfectly still. Sandy was leading, but he was not a first-rate shot, and I would rather have trusted to my own rifle. At last the bear made a movement, and Sandy, thinking he was going to bite the mate, fired, but he only wounded the animal in the back. What was my horror to see it seize the mate by the body and scamper off with him. We all fired, but dared not aim at the animal’s head, believing that the mate was still alive, for fear of killing him. I stopped to reload, as did Ewen.

“After him, lads,” shouted Sandy, but the bear was far too fleet for us to overtake, and to our grief and dismay disappeared with his victim behind the rocks to the northward.

We searched in vain for our companion. Though we traced the way the bear had gone by the crimson stains on the white snow, it convinced us that the poor mate was killed. To follow further would have been useless. With sad hearts we returned to our tent, almost frozen by the cold blast, to spend the most melancholy night we had yet passed.

We had now to settle on our future proceedings. Sandy had become the leader of the party. He proposed returning to the ship, but none of us wished to be left behind, and preferred rather to undergo the toils and risks of the journey than to remain on shore. But of this Sandy would not hear. He declared that he could go very well with only one of us, and that the other three by remaining—I acting as officer—could manage well enough by ourselves.

At last I gave in, and Sandy with the seaman set off as soon as the wind had abated. We watched them as they made their way over the plain of ice, their forms diminishing into mere dots, then finally disappearing. We in the meantime were working away to complete our hut and to render it as habitable as possible. The flesh of the bear we had killed afforded us an ample supply of food, while the fat served to increase our stock of fuel. There was probably drift-wood on the shore, but except a few pieces which stuck up above the snow, we could obtain none. We took care of every scrap we could find, not to burn, but to manufacture into such articles as we might require. In the crevices of the rocks we discovered some low creeping plants which in any other region would have been bushes, but were here a mere collection of twigs, no thicker than our little fingers, just appearing above the ground. We agreed that each should take certain duties, and it was settled that Croil should stay at home and look after the hut, employing himself in either cooking or scraping the bear’s skin to make it fit for use as a covering. Should we kill a sufficient number of bears, we intended to fasten the skins of some of them together so as to form a roof to our hut, while others would make great-coats or bed coverings.

Soon after Sandy and his companion had departed, Ewen and I took our guns both for the sake of exercise and to try and shoot bears, reindeers, or musk-oxen which we thought it possible might be found in that region. We were not aware that the latter animals had migrated southward by that time, or indeed that they were likely to be found only on level ground where the depth of the snow was not sufficient to prevent them from getting at the moss or lichens beneath. I was thankful to have Ewen as my companion. He had greatly improved since he came on board and showed that he possessed qualities which I did not before suspect, so that I felt for him as I should for a brother. The atmosphere had become calm and comparatively warm though the snow remained hard and crisp.

Ewen and I kept under the cliffs and were tempted to make our way much further south than we had hitherto gone, in the hopes of discovering some opening into the interior of the country. We at last reached a part of the cliffs where, though very rugged, they were less precipitous than in other parts. The sun was sinking behind them, but we still had abundance of daylight for exploring. Ewen offered to climb to the top in the hopes of obtaining an extensive view and perhaps of finding level ground where we should have the chance of finding deer or oxen. There was no reason why we should both run the risk, for a risk there was, though a slight one.

“Let me make the attempt alone, while you remain below, and point out to me the best path to take,” he said.

I did not much like to do this, but he declared that if I insisted on going he would give up the expedition. As I saw the sense of his proposal, I consented, and he commenced climbing up, rifle in hand. He had gone some distance when I saw a creature creeping along the rocks above his head, and directly afterwards, as it came more into sight, I saw that it was a huge bear. I shouted to him, to draw his attention to it, should he not have discovered the animal. He stopped and began to descend to a position from whence he could take a steady aim at the monster, should it come within his reach. What was my horror directly afterwards to see two other bears crawling out from among the rocks by which they had hitherto been concealed, evidently having discovered him. It seemed impossible that he should escape. I shouted to him, when he again began clambering up the rock. To my dismay, as he did so the first bear crawled down and seated itself on a point so as to intercept him.

The two other creatures got closer and closer with the evident intention of seizing him. I trembled for his safety, and hurried to the nearest spot from which I could take a steady aim.

“Never mind the fellow above you,” I shouted. “If you will shoot the ere nearest to you, I will manage the other, and we will then tackle the third if he attempts to come down.”

I could well enter into Ewen’s feelings. It was surprising, in the perilous position in which he was placed, that he should have retained any presence of mind.

Following my advice, he sat himself down on the rock and took aim, waiting until I should fire.

“Now!” I cried, and we both pulled our triggers at the same moment.

I own that I trembled lest either one or both of us might miss, in which case it seemed impossible that he should escape destruction. As the smoke cleared away from before my eyes, I saw the bears in motion, but instead of advancing they both fell back and came tumbling down the cliff close to where I was standing. I rapidly loaded, as did Ewen. We had still another antagonist to contend with, whom he must tackle alone, for I could not help him.

Just as I expected to see the bear crawling down the rocks to seize my friend, to my infinite satisfaction, the creature, alarmed by the reports, turned tail and began clambering up the cliff.

I shouted to Ewen not to shoot, as, should he only wound the bear, it might in its rage turn and attack him. I also had to look after one of the others, who though wounded, was not dead, and recovering from its fall, was looking about apparently for the foe who had injured it. On espying me it began to advance, growling furiously. As blood was flowing from behind its shoulder, I hoped that it might soon drop, but in the meantime it might tear me to pieces, and perhaps treat Ewen in the same way. To run from a bear is at all times very dangerous, unless to gain protection of some sort at no great distance; for the bear—clumsy as it looks—can run much faster than a man. I, therefore, having reloaded my rifle, stood with it ready to send a shot through the animal’s head. I waited until the wounded bear was almost close upon me, and I could not refrain from uttering a shout of satisfaction as it rolled over perfectly dead. Ewen in the meantime, approaching the other, had finished it by firing a bullet through its head.

“I wish that we had the sledge to take home the meat and skins,” observed Ewen, “but we must carry as much as we can.”

Our fear was that, should we leave the meat, other bears, of whom there appeared to be a whole colony in the neighbourhood, would come and devour it. We managed to get off the skins, which were likely to prove most valuable to us; and, loaded with them and a portion of the meat, we returned to the hut, where we found Croil anxiously looking out for us. He too, had seen a couple of bears moving across the bay, and was afraid that we might have been attacked by them, and suffered the fate of the poor mate.