Part 34 (2/2)
The quant.i.ty obtained at this our first boiling was so small, that we ate it all that night, and with our breakfast next morning.
The next forenoon was pa.s.sed boiling down a second vatful. Wade and I attended to the salt-making, while the rest of the party went off to the islet next to the west after eggs and game. In the evening we provided ourselves with fresh ”shake-downs” of moss and the tea-plant.
The 28th was devoted by Raed, Kit, and Donovan to a trip down to the mainland on the south. Raed wanted to see what sort of a country it was, with a view to our attempt at going down to Nain in case ”The Curlew” should not come back. They did not get back till nine in the evening. They had found the hills and mountains along the coast to be mere barren ridges of lichen-clad rock, with moss-beds in the hollows. But from the summit of the high ridge, about two miles in from the sh.o.r.e, they had seen with the gla.s.s, to the southward, what seemed to be low thickets of stunted evergreen,--fir or spruce. From this Raed argued that fuel might be obtained by a party travelling through the country; and, from that, went on to picture these thickets to abound with deer and hares.
CHAPTER XIII.
More Salt.--Some Big Hailstones.--A Bright Aurora.--The Lookout.--An _Oomiak_ heaves in Sight.--The Huskies land on a Neighboring Island.--Shall we join them?--A Bold, Singular, not to say Infamous, Proposition from Kit.--Some Sharp Talk.--Kit's Project carried by Vote.
During the 29th, 30th, and 31st (Sunday) of the month, we were employed much as upon the 27th; viz., boiling for salt, and egging along the cliffs. We wanted to get as much salt on hand as possible; and, by untiring industry, succeeded in getting about a quart ahead.
But to do this we had been obliged to keep up a smart fire, which had consumed nearly all the walrus-blubber from both carca.s.ses. Where to get the next supply of fuel was an open question. No more sea-horses had showed themselves. We concluded that this pair were all that had been in the vicinity.
On the night of the 31st, a terrible storm of wind, thunder, and hail, swept across the straits from the north-west. Raed picked up hailstones in front of our shelter, after the cloud had pa.s.sed, which were two inches and a half in diameter. They struck down upon the rocks with almost incredible violence. Any ordinary canvas-tent would have been riddled by them: but our tough walrus-skin bore the brunt, and sheltered us completely. The sea, during the hail-fall, seemed to boil with a loud peculiar roar, and was white with bubbles and foam.
There was a very bright aurora the following night. The next morning was fair; but a ghastly greenish haze gave the sky an aspect of strange pallor. Somehow we felt uneasy under it. After breakfast, Kit and I went up to the top of the ledges overlooking the straits to the north, east, and west, to see if we could discover any vessels. Some of us used generally to make our way up here every four or five hours to take a long look. For an hour we sat gazing off on the heaving expanse, flecked white with ice-patch, and bounded far to the north by a low line of black mountains. The breadth of the straits here was not far from seventeen leagues.
”Seven days since we were _retired_ here,” Kit remarked at length.
Seven days! It seemed seven ages.
”Kit, what do you think of the chance of our getting off from here?”
”Wash, I don't know: I don't dare to think.”
”Do you really believe Capt. Mazard will come back?”
”Why, if he's not captured, nor wrecked in a gale, nor jammed up in the ice, he will come back.”
”You have no doubt he will come back if he can?”
”Why, no: I know he will come if he can. He wouldn't leave us here.
Besides, you know, Wash, that we owe him and all the crew for his and their services. I don't say that they would come back any quicker on that account: still they would be likely to want their pay, you know.”
”That's true.”
”But, Kit, if 'The Curlew' shouldn't make its appearance, do you believe we could get down to Nain, or any of those Esquimau coast-villages?”
”I don't know, Wash: we could try.”
”Seven hundred miles through such a country as this! Would it be possible?”
”It would be no use to stay here, you know, if we found the schooner wasn't coming back. We must, of course, make an effort to get away. It would be foolish to stay here till winter came on. I don't suppose it would be possible for us to winter here: we should freeze to death in spite of every thing we could do. The cold is awfully intense through the winter months. Not even the Esquimaux try to winter on the straits here. Besides, it's about time for the sea-fowl to fly southward. We can't live after they're gone.”
”But only think of a sixty-days' tramp over these barren mountains!
Our boots wouldn't last a hundred miles! Our socks are worn through now!”
”Have to make moccasons.”
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