Part 5 (1/2)

”Where's your land?” asked Wade.

”Off there,” replied young Hobbs, pointing to the north-west.

Ah, yes! there it was,--a line of dark gray cliffs, low in the water.

Between us and them a dozen white icebergs glittered in the sun.

”Is that the cape, captain?” queried Kit.

”Must be,” was the reply. ”Same lat.i.tude. Can't be any thing else.

Answers to the chart exactly.”

”Oh! that's Cape Resolution fast enough,” said Raed. ”Those cliffs correspond with the descriptions, I should say.”

”How far off?” asked Wade.

”Well, seven or eight leagues,” replied the captain.

”The b.u.t.ton Islands, on the south side of the entrance, ought to be in sight, to the south-west,” remarked Raed, looking off in that direction; ”but I don't see them,” he added.

The captain got his gla.s.s, and climbed up to the gaff of the foresail.

”Yes, there 'tis!” he shouted. ”Low down; low land. No cliffs.”

”Why are they called 'b.u.t.ton Isles' on the chart?” he asked, sliding down the shrouds. ”Is it because they resemble b.u.t.tons?”

”No,” said Raed. ”They were named for Capt. b.u.t.ton, who sailed through here more than a century ago. He was one of those navigators who tried so hard to find the 'north-west pa.s.sage' by sailing through Hudson's Straits. During the first half of the eighteenth century, the London merchants sent out expeditions nearly every year in the hope of finding a pa.s.sage through here to China and India. This b.u.t.ton was one of their captains.”

”Then this low land to the south-west of us is Cape Chidleigh, is it not?” said Wade.

”No,” said Raed. ”Cape Chidleigh is the main land of Labrador down to the south-east of the b.u.t.ton Isles. You couldn't see that, could you, captain?”

”Saw some high peaks to the south, far down on the horizon. Those are on Labrador, I presume. Couldn't say whether they are the cape proper or not. They are in about the direction of the cape as indicated on the chart.”

As the sun rose higher a breeze sprang up, and the sails filled. The schooner was headed W.N.W. to run under the cape; Bonney being set to watch sharp for the floating ice.

”Coffee, sar!” cried Palmleaf from the companion-way.

We went down to breakfast and talk over matters with the captain. It was decided to work up under the cape, and so, hugging the land on the north side as closely as possible, get into the strait as far as we could that day. We all felt anxious; for though the sea was now smooth, sky clear, and the wind fair, yet we knew that it was rather the exception than the average. The idea of being caught here among these cliffs and icebergs in a three-days' fog or a north-east gale, with the whole fury of the Atlantic at our backs, was anything but encouraging. The advice of the elder navigators, ”to seize a favorable day and get as far up the straits as possible,” kept recurring to our minds. The words had an ominous sound. They were the utterances of many a sad experience.

”There never could be a better day nor a fairer wind,” remarked the captain.

”Now's our chance; I'm convinced of it,” said Kit.

The mainsail, which had been taken in the previous evening, and the topsail, were both set; and, the breeze freshening, ”The Curlew”

rapidly gathered way. Considerable care had to be used, however, to avoid the broad cakes of ice which were floating out all around us.

Small bits, and pieces as large as a hogshead, we paid no attention to; let the cut-water knock them aside. But there were plenty of large, angular, ugly-looking ma.s.ses, which, if struck would have endangered the schooner's side. These were sheered off from: so that our course was made up of a series of curves and windings in and out.

It seemed odd to see so much ice, and feel the deadly chill of the water, with so hot a sun on deck that the pitch started on the deal planks. In our companion-way the thermometer rose to eighty-seven degrees, with icebergs glittering at every point of the compa.s.s.

By eight o'clock, A.M., we were abreast the cliffs of Resolution Island, at a distance of a couple of miles. With our gla.s.ses we examined them attentively. h.o.a.ry, gray, and bare, they were, as when first split out of the earth's flinty crust, and thrust above the waves. The sun poured a flood of warm light over them; but no green thing could be discerned. Either there was no soil, or else the bleak frost-winds effectually checked the outcrop of life. To the south the b.u.t.ton Islands showed like brown patches on the s.h.i.+mmering waves. The width of the straits at this point is given on the chart at twelve leagues,--thirty-six miles. We could see the land on either side.