Have you ever thought about what fiction is? Probably, such a question may seem surprising: and so everything is clear. Every person throughout his life has to repeatedly create the works he needs for specific purposes - statements, autobiographies, dictations - using not gypsum or clay, not musical notes, not paints, but just a word. At the same time, almost every person will be very surprised if he is told that he thereby created a work of fiction, which is very different from visual art, music and sculpture making. However, everyone understands that a student's essay or dictation is fundamentally different from novels, short stories, news that are created by professional writers. In the works of professionals there is the most important difference - excogitation. But, oddly enough, in a school literature course, you don’t realize the full power of fiction. So using our website in your free time discover fiction for yourself. The World of Ice by R. M. Ballantyne (e novels to read online TXT) 📖
- Author: R. M. Ballantyne
Book online «The World of Ice by R. M. Ballantyne (e novels to read online TXT) 📖». Author R. M. Ballantyne
But the drag was a fearfully heavy one for men who, besides having walked so long and so far on the previous day, were, most of them, much weakened by illness and very unfit for such laborious work. The floes, too, were so rugged that they had frequently to lift the heavy sledge and its living load over deep rents and chasms which, in circumstances less desperate, they would have scarcely ventured to do. Work as they would, however, they could not make more than a mile an hour, and night overtook them ere they reached the level floes. But it was of the utmost importance that they should continue to advance, so they pushed forward until a breeze sprang up that pierced them through and through.
Fortunately there was a bright moon in the sky, which enabled them to pick their way among the hummocks. Suddenly, without warning, the whole party felt an alarming failure of their energies. Captain Guy, who was aware of the imminent danger of giving way to this feeling, cheered the men to greater exertion by word and voice, but failed to rouse them. They seemed like men walking in their sleep.
“Come, Saunders, cheer up, man,” cried the captain, shaking the mate by the arm; but Saunders stood still, swaying to and fro like a drunken man. Mizzle begged to be allowed to sleep, if it were only for two minutes, and poor Davie Summers deliberately threw himself down on the snow, from which, had he been left, he would never more have risen.
The case was now desperate. In vain the captain shook and buffeted the men. They protested that they did not feel cold—“they were quite warm, and only wanted a little sleep.” He saw that it was useless to contend with them, so there was nothing left for it but to pitch the tent.
This was done as quickly as possible, though with much difficulty, and the men were unlashed from the sledge and placed within it. The others then crowded in, and, falling down beside each other, were asleep in an instant. The excessive crowding of the little tent was an advantage at this time, as it tended to increase their animal heat. Captain Guy allowed them to sleep only two hours, and then roused them in order to continue the journey; but short though the period of rest was, it proved sufficient to enable the men to pursue their journey with some degree of spirit. Still, it was evident that their energies had been overtaxed, for when they neared the ship next day, Tom Singleton, who had been on the lookout, and advanced to meet them, found that they were almost in a state of stupor, and talked incoherently; sometimes giving utterance to sentiments of the most absurd nature, with expressions of the utmost gravity.
Meanwhile good news was brought them from the ship. Two bears and a walrus had been purchased from the Esquimaux, a party of whom—sleek, fat, oily, good-humoured, and hairy—were encamped on the lee side of the Dolphin, and busily engaged in their principal and favourite occupation—eating!
Winter passed away, with its darkness and its frost, and, happily, with its sorrows; and summer—bright, glowing summer—came at last to gladden the heart of man and beast in the Polar regions.
We have purposely omitted to make mention of spring, for there is no such season, properly so called, within the Arctic Circle. Winter usually terminates with a gushing thaw, and summer then begins with a blaze of fervent heat. Not that the heat is really so intense as compared with that of southern climes, but the contrast is so great that it seems as though the torrid zones had rushed towards the Pole.
About the beginning of June there were indications of the coming heat. Fresh water began to trickle from the rocks, and streamlets commenced to run down the icebergs. Soon everything became moist, and a marked change took place in the appearance of the ice-belt, owing to the pools that collected on it everywhere and overflowed.
Seals now became more numerous in the neighbourhood, and were frequently killed near the atluks, or holes; so that fresh meat was secured in abundance, and the scurvy received a decided check. Reindeer, rabbits, and ptarmigan, too, began to frequent the bay, so that the larder was constantly full, and the mess-table presented a pleasing variety—rats being no longer the solitary dish of fresh meat at every meal. A few small birds made their appearance from the southward, and these were hailed as harbingers of the coming summer.
One day O’Riley sat on the taffrail, basking in the warm sun, and drinking in health and gladness from its beams. He had been ill, and was now convalescent. Buzzby stood beside him.
“I’ve bin thinkin’,” said Buzzby, “that we don’t half know the blessin’s that are given to us in this here world till we’ve had ’em taken away. Look, now, how we’re enjoyin’ the sun an’ the heat just as if it wos so much gold!”
“Goold!” echoed O’Riley in a tone of contempt; “faix, I niver thought so little o’ goold before, let me tell ye. Goold can buy many a thing, it can, but it can’t buy sunshine. Hallo! what’s this!”
O’Riley accompanied the question with a sudden snatch of his hand.
“Look here, Buzzby! Have a care, now! jist watch the opening o’ my fist.”
“Wot is it?” enquired Buzzby, approaching, and looking earnestly at his comrade’s clenched hand with some curiosity.
“There he comes! Now, then; not so fast, ye spalpeen!”
As he spoke, a small fly, which had been captured, crept out from between his fingers, and sought to escape. It was the first that had visited these frozen regions for many, many months, and the whole crew were summoned on deck to meet it, as if it were an old and valued friend.
“Let it go, poor thing?” cried half a dozen of the men, gazing at the little prisoner with a degree of interest that cannot be thoroughly understood by those who have not passed through experiences similar to those of our Arctic voyagers.
“Ay, don’t hurt it, poor thing! You’re squeezin’ it too hard!” cried Amos Parr.
“Squaazing it! no, then, I’m not. Go, avic, an’ me blessin’ go wid ye.”
The big, rough hand opened, and the tiny insect, spreading its gossamer wings, buzzed away into the bright atmosphere, where it was soon lost to view.
“Rig up the ice-saws, Mr Bolton, set all hands at them, and get out the powder-canisters,” cried Captain Guy, coming hastily on deck.
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the mate. “All hands to the ice-saws! Look alive, boys! Ho! Mr Saunders! where’s Mr Saunders?”
“Here I am,” answered the worthy second mate in a quiet voice.
“Oh, you’re there? get up some powder, Mr Saunders, and a few canisters.”
There was a heartiness in the tone and action with which these orders were given and obeyed that proved they were possessed of more than ordinary interest; as, indeed, they were, for the time had now come for making preparations for cutting the ship out of winter-quarters, and getting ready to take advantage of any favourable opening in the ice that might occur.
“Do you hope to effect much?” enquired Captain Ellice of Captain Guy, who stood at the gangway watching the men as they leaped over the side, and began to cut holes with ice chisels preparatory to fixing the saws and powder-canisters.
“Not much,” replied the captain; “but a little in these latitudes is worth fighting hard for, as you are well aware. Many a time have I seen a ship’s crew strain and heave on warps and cables for hours together, and only gain a yard by all their efforts; but many a time, also, have I seen a single yard of headway save a ship from destruction.”
“True,” rejoined Captain Ellice; “I have seen a little of it myself. There is no spot on earth, I think, equal to the Polar regions for bringing out into bold relief two great and apparently antagonistic truths—namely, man’s urgent need of all his powers to accomplish the work of his own deliverance, and man’s utter helplessness and entire dependence on the sovereign will of God.”
“When shall we sink the canisters, sir?” asked Bolton, coming up and touching his hat.
“In an hour, Mr Bolton; the tide will be full then, and we shall try what effect a blast will have.”
“My opeenion is,” remarked Saunders, who passed at the moment with two large bags of gunpowder under his arms, “that it’ll have no effect at a’. It’ll just loosen the ice roond the ship.”
The captain smiled as he said: “That is all the effect I hope for, Mr Saunders. Should the outward ice give way soon, we shall then be in a better position to avail ourselves of it.”
As Saunders predicted, the effect of powder and saws was merely to loosen and rend the ice-tables in which the Dolphin was imbedded; but deliverance was coming sooner than any of those on board expected. That night a storm arose, which, for intensity of violence, equalled, if it did not surpass, the severest gales they had yet experienced. It set the great bergs of the Polar seas in motion, and these moving mountains of ice slowly and majestically began their voyage to southern climes, crashing through the floes, overturning the hummocks, and ripping up the ice-tables with quiet, but irresistible momentum. For two days the war of ice continued to rage, and sometimes the contending forces, in the shape of huge tongues and corners of bergs, were forced into the Bay of Mercy, and threatening swift destruction to the little craft, which was a mere atom that might have been crushed and sunk and scarcely missed in such a wild scene.
At one time a table of ice was forced out of the water and reared up, like a sloping wall of glass, close to the stern of the Dolphin, where all the crew were assembled with ice-poles ready to do their utmost; but their feeble efforts could have availed them nothing had the slowly-moving mass continued its onward progress.
“Lower away the quarter-boat,” cried the captain, as the sheet of ice six feet thick came grinding down towards the starboard quarter.
Buzzby, Grim, and several others sprang to obey, but, before they could let go the fall-tackles, the mass of ice rose suddenly high above the deck, over which it projected several feet, and caught the boat. In another moment the timbers yielded; the thwarts sprang out or were broken across, and slowly, yet forcibly, as a strong hand might crush an egg-shell, the boat was squeezed flat against the ship’s side.
“Shove, lads; if it comes on we’re lost,” cried the captain, seizing one of the long poles with which the men were vainly straining every nerve and muscle. They might as well have tried to arrest the progress of a berg. On it came, and crushed in the starboard quarter bulwarks. Providentially at that moment it grounded and remained fast; but the projecting point that overhung them broke off and fell on the deck with a crash that shook the good ship from stem to stern. Several of the men were thrown violently down, but none were seriously hurt in this catastrophe.
When the storm ceased, the ice out in the strait was all in motion, and that round the ship had loosened so much that it seemed as if the Dolphin might soon get out into open water and once more float upon its natural element. Every preparation, therefore, was made; the stores were reshipped from Store Island; the sails were shaken out, and those of them that had been taken down were bent on to the yards. Tackle was overhauled, and, in short, everything was done that was possible under the circumstances. But a week passed away ere they succeeded in finally
Comments (0)