Part 20 (1/2)

At that moment a flaw from the westward bore on its wings a repet.i.tion of the sounds they had heard in the morning, but nearer and more distinct than before. Heavily, measured, and mournfully, came the tones of the great bell, as the storm-vapors shut down closer, and the west wind blew fiercer across the icebound sea.

”They toll for the dead,” said Regnar.

CHAPTER XIV.

THE PACK OPENS.--MYSTERIOUS MURMURS.--LOVE SCENES AND SOUNDS.

All day long the snow fell heavily, and although the wind blew with no great violence, it was evidently increasing their drift eastward into the open Gulf. At night the temperature was perceptibly higher, and as they gathered around the light of the rude brazier in the centre of their ice-cave, each for the first time opened his heavy outer clothing, and felt the cool zephyrs that, from time to time, found their way through the door curtain, to be a welcome visitant.

The fire had melted a deep hollow in the centre, which was naturally the lowest part of the floor, and Peter quietly arose, and bringing in the axe, cut a narrow but deep gutter out through the doorway. Reverently that night the little group bowed their heads as Waring, with his sweet voice, led the singing of one of the old familiar hymns, dear alike to Churchman and Dissenter, and La Salle prayed that the hand of the Father might be with them in their coming trials.

For already the boat had received her scanty store of food and fuel, their weapons stood close at hand, a pile of cooked meats was cooling near the door, and all knew that a few hours might again find them seeking a new shelter, among perils compared to which those already pa.s.sed, were ”trifles light as air.”

Heretofore they had been exposed to no wide sweep of seas, and had never felt the solid ice beneath them rolling and plunging through mountainous surges, or dashed in terrible collision against its companions of the dismembered ice-pack. Now every mile which they drifted increased the sweep of the sea, and in the centre of the wide Gulf, the southerly winds would scarcely fail to open, at least, the outer sections of the floes.

As they concluded their brief Sabbath exercises, La Salle drew from his vest pocket a stump of lead pencil, and seemed at a loss for something on which to write.

”Have any of you a piece of paper?” he asked.

All answered in the negative; but a thought seemed to strike him, and drawing from an inner pocket a much crumpled letter, he opened it, and seemed to consider. The envelope was worn out, but had preserved the closely-written note paper within; and taking a single page, he spread it on his gunstock, and, in broad-lined, coa.r.s.ely-made letters, drew up the following record of their present position and prospects:--

”OFF CAPE NORTH, SUNDAY, April 15, 186--.

”TO WHOEVER MAY FIND THIS: This morning the undersigned, with George Waring, Peter Mitch.e.l.l, and Regnar Orloff, all well, were twelve miles north-east of Cape North, but a snow storm prevented an attempt to land. Knowing that, with the presently impending southerly storm, we may have to leave our present refuge, I hereby a.s.sure those who may find this of our present safety, and desire them to forward this to the office of the Controller of Customs at Halifax, or St. John.

(Signed) ”CHARLES LA SALLE.”

”Regnie, please write this in French on the other side--will you?” said the writer, as he finished.

Orloff took the page, and turning it over, did as requested; but as he finished signing his own name, he let the pencil drop from his fingers, and for a moment found himself incapable of movement or expression.

Controlling himself with an effort, he folded the note neatly, and returned it, with the pencil, to La Salle.

”Who is your fair correspondent, M. La Salle?” said he, in French.

La Salle, with flushed face and eyes lighted up with due resentment of the other's curiosity, answered,--

”You seem to have read for yourself.”

Orloff's manner changed at once.

”A thousand pardons, monsieur, but I have a good reason for asking the lady's name.”

”Pauline H. Randall, as you may see for yourself,” was the quiet reply.

”One more question, sir. Do you know her middle name?”

”I did, but cannot exactly recall it, as she never uses it in full, and I have forgotten whether it is Hobel or Hubel; that it is one of the two, I am pretty certain.”