<h2><SPAN name="CHAPTER_XIX" id="CHAPTER_XIX"></SPAN>CHAPTER XIX.</h2>
<h3>WE TAKE A VIEW OF THE ICE.</h3>
<p>For seven days the gale raged with uncommon violence: it then broke, and
this brought us into the first week of August. The wind fell in the
night, and I was awakened by the silence, which you will not think
strange if you consider how used were my ears to the fierce seething and
strong bellowing of the blast. I lay listening, believing that it had
only veered, and that it would come on again in gusts and guns; but the
stillness continued, and there was no sound whatever, saving the noises
of the ice, which broke upon the air like slow answers from batteries
near and distant, half whose cannons have been silenced.</p>
<p>I slept again, and when I awoke it was half-past nine o'clock in the
morning. The Frenchman was snoring lustily. I went on deck before
entering the cook-house, and had like to have been blinded by the
astonishing brilliance of the sunshine upon the ice and snow. All the
wind was gone. The air was exquisitely frosty and sharp. But there was a
heavy sound coming from the sea which gave me to expect the sight of a
strong swell. The sky was a clear blue, and there was no cloud on as
much of its face as showed betwixt the brows of the slopes.</p>
<p>The schooner was a most wonderful picture of drooping icicles. A more
beautiful and radiant sight you could not figure. From every rope, from
the yards forward, from the rails, from whatever water could run in a
stream, hung glorious ice-pendants of prismatic splendour. No snow had
fallen to frost the surfaces, and every pendant was as pure and polished
as cut-glass and reflected a hundred brilliant colours. The water hurled
over and on the schooner had frozen upon the masts, rigging, and decks,
and as this ice, like the pendants, was very sparklingly bright, it gave
back all the hues of the sunbeam, so that, stepping from the darkness of
the cabin into this effulgent scene, you might easily have persuaded
yourself that before you stood the fabric of a ship fashioned out of a
rainbow.</p>
<p>My attention, however, was quickly withdrawn from this shining spectacle
by the appearance of the starboard cliff over against our quarter. The
whole shoulder of it had broken away and I could just catch a view of
the horizon of the sea from the deck by stretching my figure. The sight
of the ocean showed me that the breakage had been prodigious, for to
have come to that prospect before, I should have had to climb to the
height of the main lower masthead. No other marked or noteworthy change
did I detect from the deck; but on stepping to the larboard side to peer
over I spied a split in the ice that reached from the very margin of the
ravine, I mean to that end of it where it terminated in a cliff, to past
the bows of the schooner by at least four times her own length.</p>
<p>I returned to the cook-room and went about the old business of lighting
the fire and preparing the breakfast—this job by an understanding
between the Frenchman and me, falling to him who was first out of
bed—and in about twenty minutes Tassard arrived.</p>
<p>"The wind is gone," said he.</p>
<p>"Yes," I replied, "it is a bright still morning. I have been on deck.
There has been a great fall of ice close to."</p>
<p>"Does it block us?"</p>
<p>"No, on the contrary, it clears the way to the sea; the ocean is now
visible from the deck. Not that it mends our case," I added. "But there
is a great rent in the ice that puts a fancy into my head; I'll speak of
it later after a closer look."</p>
<p>The breakfast was ready, and we fell to in a hurry, the Frenchman
gobbling like a hog in his eagerness to make an end. When we were
finished he wrapped himself up in three or four coats and cloaks,
warming the under ones before folding them about him, and completing his
preparations for the excursion by swallowing half a pint of raw brandy.
I bade him arm himself with a short-headed spear to save his neck; and
thus equipped we went on deck.</p>
<p>He stood stock-still with his eyes shut on emerging through the hatch,
crying out with a number of French oaths that he had been struck blind.
This I did not believe, though I readily supposed that the glare made
his eyeballs smart so as to cause him a good deal of agony. Indeed, all
along I had been surprised that he should have found his sight so
easily after having sat in blindness for forty-eight years, and it was
not wonderful that the amazing brilliance on deck, smiting his sight on
a sudden, should have caused him to cry out as if he had lost the use of
his eyes for ever.</p>
<p>I waited patiently, and in about ten minutes he was able to look about
him, and then it was not long before he could see without pain. He stood
a minute gazing at the glories upon the rigging, and in that piercing
light I noticed the unwholesome colour of his face. His cap hid the
scar, and nothing of his countenance was to be seen but the cheeks,
eyes, and nose; he was much more wrinkled than I had supposed, and
methought the spirit of cruelty lay visible in every line. I had never
seen eyes so full of cunning and treachery—so expressive, I should say,
of these qualities; yet they were no bigger than mere punctures. I was
sensible of a momentary fear of the man—not, let me say, an emotion of
cowardice—but a sort of mixture of alarm and awe, such as a ghost might
inspire. This I put down to the searching light in which I watched him
for a moment or two, an irradiation subtle enough to give the sharpest
form to expression, to exquisitely define every meaning that was
distinguishable in his graveyard physiognomy. I left him to stare and
judge for himself of the posture in which the long hard gale had put the
schooner and stepped over to the two bodies. They were shrouded in ice
from head to foot, as though they had each man been packed in a glass
case cunningly wrought to their shapes. Their faces were hid by the
crystal masks. Tassard joined me.</p>
<p>"Small chance for your friends now," said I, "even if you were agreeable
to my proposal to attempt to revive them."</p>
<p>"So!" cried he, touching the body of the mate with his foot; "and this
is the end of the irresistible Trentanove! for what conquests has Death
robed him so bravely? See, the colours shine in him like fifty different
kinds of ribbands. Poor fellow! he could not curl his moustachios now,
though the loveliest eyes in Europe were fixed in passionate admiration
on him. He'll never slit another throat, nor hiccup Petrarch over a
goblet nor remonstrate with me on my humanity. Shall we toss the bodies
over the side?"</p>
<p>"They are your friends," said I; "do as you please."</p>
<p>"But we must empty their pockets first. Business before sentiment, Mr.
Rodney."</p>
<p>He stirred the figure again with his foot.</p>
<p>"Well, presently," said he, "this armour will want the hatchet. Now, my
friend, to view the work of the gale."</p>
<p>The increased heel of the ship brought the larboard fore-channel low,
and we stepped without difficulty from it on to the ice. The rent or
fissure that I have before spoken of went very deep; it was nearly two
feet wide in places, but, though the light poured brilliantly upon it, I
could see no bottom.</p>
<p>"If only such another split as this would happen t'other side," said the
Frenchman, "I believe this block would go adrift."</p>
<p>"Well," said I, after musing a little whilst I ran my eye over the
hollows, "I'll tell you what was in my mind just now. There is a great
quantity of gunpowder in the hold; ten or a dozen barrels. By dropping
large parcels of it into the crevices on the right there, and firing it
with slow-matches—"</p>
<p>He interrupted me with a cry: "By St. Paul, you have it! What crevices
have you?"</p>
<p>We walked briskly round the vessel, and all about her beam and starboard
quarter I found, in addition to the seams I had before noticed, many
great cracks and fissures, caused no doubt by the fall of the shoulder
of the slope. I pushed on further yet, going down the ravine, as I have
called it, until I came to the edge; and here I looked down from a
height of some twelve or fourteen feet—so greatly had the ice sunk or
been changed by the weather—upon the ocean. I called to Tassard. He
approached warily. I believe he feared I might be tempted to give him a
friendly shove over the edge.</p>
<p>"Observe this hollow," said I; "the split there goes down to the water,
and you may take it that the block is wholly disconnected on that side.
Now look at the face of the ice," said I, pointing to the starboard or
right-hand side; "that crack goes as far as the vessel's quarter, and
the weakness is carried on to past the bows by the other rents. Mr.
Tassard, if we could burst this body of ice by an explosion from its
moorings ahead of the bowsprit, where it is all too compact, this cradle
with the schooner in it will go free of the parent body."</p>
<p>He answered promptly, "Yes; it is the one and only plan. That crack to
starboard is like telling us what to do. It is well you came here. We
should not have seen it from the top. This valley runs steep. You must
expect no more than the surface to be liberated, for the foot of the
cliff will go deep."</p>
<p>"I desire no more."</p>
<p>"Will the ship stand such a launch, supposing we bring it about?" said
he.</p>
<p>I responded with one of his own shrugs, and said, "Nothing is certain.
We have one of two courses to choose: to venture this launch, or stay
till the ice breaks up, and take our chance of floating or of being
smashed."</p>
<p>"You are right," he exclaimed. "Here is an opportunity. If we wait,
bergs may gather about this point and build us in. As to this island
dissolving, we are yet to know which way 'tis heading. Suppose it should
be travelling south, hey!"</p>
<p>He struck the ice with his spear, and we toiled up the slippery rocks
with difficulty to the ship. We walked past the bows to the distance of
the vessel's length. Here were many deep holes and cracks, and as if we
were to be taught how these came about, even whilst we were viewing them
an ear-splitting crash of noise happened within twenty fathoms of us, a
rock many tons in weight rolled over, and left a black gulf behind it.</p>
<p>The Frenchman started, muttered, and crossed himself. "Holy Virgin!" he
cried, rolling his eyes. "Let us return to the schooner. We shall be
swallowed up here."</p>
<p>I own I was not a little terrified myself by the sudden loud blast and
the thunder of the uprooted rock, and the sight of the huge black rent;
but I meant to view the scene from the top, and to consider how best to
dispose of the powder in the cracks, and said, "There is nothing to be
done on board; skulking below will not deliver us or preserve the
treasure. Here are several fissures big enough to receive barrels of
gunpowder. See, Mr. Tassard, as they stand they cover the whole width of
the hollow."</p>
<p>And I proceeded to give him my ideas as to lowering, fixing the barrels,
and the like. He nodded his head, and said, "Yes, very good; yes, it
will do," and so on; but was too scared in his heart, I believe, to see
my full meaning. He was perpetually moving, as if he feared the ice
would split under his feet, and his eyes travelled over the face of the
rocks with every manifestation of alarm in their expression. I wondered
how so poor a creature should ever have had stomach enough to serve as a
pirate; no doubt his spirit had been enfeebled by his long sleep; but
then it is also true that the greatest bullies and most bloodthirsty
rogues prove themselves despicable curs under conditions which make no
demand upon their temper or their lust for plunder.</p>
<p>He would have returned to the ship, had I encouraged him, but on seeing
me start to climb to the brow he followed. The prospect disappointed me.
I had expected to witness a variety of surprising changes; but southward
the scene was scarce altered. It was a wonderfully fair morning, the sky
clear from sea-line to sea-line, and of a very soft blue, the ocean of a
like hue, with a high swell running, that was a majestic undulation even
from the height at which I surveyed it. The sun stood over the ice in
the north-east, and the dazzle kept me weeping, so intolerable was the
effulgence. Half of the delicate architecture that had enriched the
slopes and surfaces that way was swept down, and ice lay piled in places
to an elevation of many feet, where before it had been flat or hollow.
However, there was no question but that the gale had played havoc with
the north extremity of the island: I counted no less than twenty bergs
floating off the main, and it was quite likely the sea was crowded
beyond, though my sight could not travel so far.</p>
<p>However, when I came to look close, and to recollect the features of the
shore as they showed when I first landed, I found some vital changes
near at hand. Where my haven had been the ice had given way and left a
gap half a mile broad and a hundred feet deep. The fall on the
schooner's starboard quarter was very heavy, and the ice was split in
all directions; and in parts was so loose that a point of cliff hard
upon the sea rocked with the swell. When Tassard came to a stand he
looked about him north and south, shading his eyes with his hand, and
then swearing very savagely in French, he cried out in English, freely
employing oaths as he spoke,—</p>
<p>"Why, here's as much ice as there was before I fell asleep! See yonder!"
pointing to the south. "It dies out in the distance. If it does not
join the pole there, may the devil rise before me as I speak. Thunder
and fury! I had hoped to see it shrivelled to an ordinary berg!"</p>
<p>"What! in a week?" cried I, as if I believed his stupor had not lasted
longer.</p>
<p>He returned no answer and gaped about him full of consternation and
passion.</p>
<p>"And are we to wait for our deliverance till this continent breaks up?"
he bawled. "The day of judgment will be a thing of the past by that
time. Travelling north! 'sdeath!" he roared, his mouth full of the
expletives of his day, French and English. "Who but a madman could
suppose that this ice is not as fixed as the antarctic circle to which
it is moored? Why, six months ago it was no bigger than it is now!" And
he sent a furious terrified gate into the white solitudes vanishing in
azure faintness in the south-west.</p>
<p>It was not a thing to reason upon. I was as much disappointed as he by
the trifling changes the gale had made, and my heart felt very heavy at
the sight of the great field disappearing in the south. The bergs in the
north signified little. It is true they indicated demolition, but
demolition so slow as to be worthless to us. It was not to be questioned
that the island was proceeding north, but at what rate? Here, perhaps,
might be a frozen crescent of forty or fifty leagues: and at what speed,
appreciable enough to be of the least consequence to our calculations,
should such a body travel?</p>
<p>I looked at the Frenchman.</p>
<p>"This must decide us!" said I. "We must fix on one of two courses:
endeavour to launch the ship by blowing up the ice, or turn to and rig
up the best arrangement we can contrive and put to sea."</p>
<p>"Yes," he answered, scowling as he darted his enraged eyes over the ice.
"Better set a slow match in the magazine and drink ourselves senseless,
and so blow ourselves to hell, than linger here in the hope that this
continent will dissolve and release us. Where's Mendoza's body?"</p>
<p>I stared about me, and then pointing to the huge gap the ice had made,
answered, "It was there. Where it is now I know not."</p>
<p>He shrugged his shoulders, took another view of the ice and the ocean,
and then cried impatiently, "Let us return! the powder-barrels must have
the first chance." And he made for the schooner, savagely striking the
ice with his spear and growling curses to himself as he ploughed and
climbed and jumped his way along.</p>
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