Part 24 (1/2)
The Esquimaux soon built quite a little town of snow-huts all round the _Dolphin_, and the noise of traffic and intercourse was peculiarly refres.h.i.+ng to the ears of those who had long been accustomed to the death-like stillness of an Arctic winter. The beneficial effect of the change on men and dogs was instantaneous. Their spirits rose at once, and this, with the ample supply of fresh meat that had been procured, soon began to drive scurvy away.
There was one dark spot, however, in this otherwise pleasant scene--one impending event that cast a gloom over all. In his narrow berth in the cabin Joseph West lay dying. Scurvy had acted more rapidly on his delicate frame than had been expected. Despite Tom Singleton's utmost efforts and skill, the fell disease gained the mastery, and it soon became evident that this hearty and excellent man was to be taken away from them.
During the last days of his illness, Captain Ellice was his greatest comfort and his constant companion. He read the Bible to him, and when doubts and fears arose, as they sometimes did, he pointed him to Jesus, and spoke of that love from which nothing could separate him.
It was on Christmas day that West died.
”O sir,” said he to Captain Ellice just an hour before he breathed his last, ”how much I regret the time that I have lost! How I wish now that I had devoted more of my precious time to the study of the Word and to prayer! How many opportunities of speaking a word for Jesus I have neglected. Once, everything seemed of importance; now, but _one_ thing is worthy of a thought.”
”True,” answered the captain, ”'the one thing needful.' It is strange that we will scarce permit ourselves to think or speak of _that_ till we come to die. But you have thought on Jesus long ere now, have you not?”
”Yes,” answered West faintly, ”I have; but I take no comfort from that thought. When I think of my past life it is only with regret. My hope is in the Lord. What I have been, or might have been, is nothing. One thing I know--I _am_ a sinner; and this I also know--'Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners!'”
These were the last words the dying man spoke. Shortly after, he fell asleep.
Next day the body of Joseph West was put in a plain deal coffin, and conveyed to Store Island, where it was placed on the ground. They had no instruments that could penetrate the hard rock, so were obliged to construct a tomb of stones, after the manner of the Esquimaux, under which the coffin was laid and left in solitude.
New-Year's day came, and preparations were made to celebrate the day with the usual festivities. But the recent death had affected the crew too deeply to allow them to indulge in the unrestrained hilarity of that season. Prayers were read in the morning, and both Captain Guy and Captain Ellice addressed the men feelingly in allusion to their late s.h.i.+pmate's death and their own present position. A good dinner was also prepared, and several luxuries served out, among which were the materials for the construction of a large plum-pudding. But no grog was allowed, and they needed it not. As the afternoon advanced, stories were told, and even songs were sung; but these were of a quiet kind, and the men seemed, from an innate feeling of propriety, to suit them to the occasion. Old friends were recalled, and old familiar scenes described.
The hearths of home were spoken of with a depth of feeling that showed how intense was the longing to be seated round them again, and future prospects were canva.s.sed with keen interest and with hopeful voices.
New-Year's day came and went, and when it was gone the men of the _Dolphin_ did not say, ”what a jolly day it was.” They _said_ little or nothing, but long after they _thought_ of it as a bright spot in their dreary winter in the Bay of Mercy--as a day in which they had enjoyed earnest, glad, and sober communings of heart.
CHAPTER XXI.
_First gleam of light--Trip to welcome the sun--Bears and strange discoveries--O'Riley is reckless--First view of the sun._
The wisest of men has told us that ”it is a pleasant thing for the eyes to behold the sun,” but only those who spend a winter in the Arctic Regions can fully appreciate the import of that inspired saying.
It is absolutely essential to existence that the bright beams of the great luminary should fall on animal as well as plant. Most of the poor dogs died for want of this blessed light, and had it been much longer withheld, doubtless our navigators would have sunk also.
About the 20th of January a faint gleam of light on the horizon told of the coming day. It was hailed with rapture, and long before the bright sun himself appeared on the southern horizon the most of the men made daily excursions to the neighbouring hilltops to catch sight of as much as possible of his faint rays. Day by day those rays expanded, and at last a sort of _dawn_ enlightened a distant portion of their earth, which, faint though it was at first, had much the appearance in their eyes of a bright day. But time wore on, and _real_ day appeared. The red sun rose in all its glory, showed a rim of its glowing disk above the frozen sea, and then sank, leaving a long gladsome smile of twilight behind. This great event happened on the 19th of February, and would have occurred sooner, but for the high cliffs to the southward which intervened between the s.h.i.+p and the horizon.
On the day referred to, a large party was formed to go to the top of the cliffs at Red-Snow Valley to welcome back the sun.
”There's scarce a man left behind,” remarked Captain Guy, as they started on this truly joyous expedition.
”Only Mizzle, sir,” said Buzzby, slapping his hands together, for the cold was intense; ”he said as how he'd stop and have dinner ready agin our return.”
There was a general laugh from the men, who knew that the worthy cook had other reasons for not going--namely, his shortness of wind, and his inveterate dislike to ascend hills.
”Come, Fred,” cried Captain Ellice, who had completely recovered from his accident, ”I shall be quite jealous of your friend Singleton if you bestow so much of your company on him. Walk with me, sirrah, I command you, as I wish to have a chat.”
”You are unjust to me,” replied Fred, taking his father's arm, and falling with him a little to the rear of the party; ”Tom complains that I have quite given him up of late.”
”Och! isn't it a purty sight,” remarked O'Riley to Mivins, ”to see us all goin' out like good little childers to see the sun rise of a beautiful mornin' like this?”
”So it _his_,” answered Mivins; ”but I wish it wasn't quite so cold.”
It was indeed cold--so cold that the men had to beat their hands together, and stamp their feet, and rush about like real children, in order to keep their bodies warm. This month of February was the coldest they had yet experienced. Several times the thermometer fell to the unexampled temperature of 75 below zero, or 107 below the freezing-point of water. When we remind our young readers that the thermometer in England seldom falls so low as zero, except in what we term weather of the utmost severity, they may imagine--or rather, they may try to imagine--what 75 _below_ zero must have been.