Left on Labrador Part 7

"Ice!--it's an iceberg!"

"Hard a-starboard!" yelled Capt. Mazard.

It was not a hundred feet distant. Old Trull and Bonney caught up the pike-poles to fend off with. "The Curlew" drove on. The vast shadowy shape seemed to approach. A chill came with it. A few seconds more, and the bowsprit punched heavily against the ice-mountain. The shock sent the schooner staggering back like a pugilist with a "blimmer"

between the eyes. Had we been sailing at our usual rate, it would have stove in the whole bow. The storm immediately forced us forward again; and the bowsprit, again striking, slid along the ice with a dull, crunching sound as the schooner fell off sidewise.

"Stand by those pike-poles!" shouted the captain; for so near was the iceberg, that we could easily reach it with a ten-foot pole from the bulwarks.

Striking the iron spikes into the ice, the men held the schooner off while she drifted past. The rumbling noise, louder than before, seemed now to come from out the solid berg.

"Let's get away from this before it splits or explodes again!"

exclaimed Raed.

"Heavens! it sounds like a big grist-mill in full blast!" said Kit.

"More like a powder-mill, I should judge from the blasts we heard a few minutes ago," remarked Wade.

More poles were brought up, and we all lent a hand to push off from our dangerous neighbor. After fending along its ma.s.sy side for several hundred yards, we got off clear from an angle.

"Farewell, old thunder-mill!" laughed Kit.

But we had not got clear of it so easily: for the vast lofty ma.s.s so broke off the wind and storm, that, immediately on pa.s.sing it to the leeward, we hadn't a "breath of air;" and, as a consequence, the berg soon drifted down upon us. Again we pushed off from it, and set the fore-sail. The sail merely flapped occasionally, and hung idly; and again the iceberg came grinding against us. There were no means of getting off, save to let down the boat, and tow the schooner out into the wind,--rather a ticklish job among ice, and in so dim a light.

"The Curlew" lay broadside against the berg, but did not seem to chafe or batter much: on the contrary, we were borne along by the ice with far less motion than if out in open water.

"Well, why not let her go so?" said Kit after we had lain thus a few minutes. "There doesn't seem to be any great danger in it. This side of the iceberg, so far as I can make it out, doesn't look very dangerous."

"Not a very seamanlike way of doing business," remarked the captain, looking dubiously around.

"Catching a ride on an iceberg," laughed Weymouth. "That sort of thing used to be strictly forbidden at school."

"But only listen to that fearful rumble and roar!" said Raed. "It seems to come from deep down in the berg. What is it?"

"Must be the sea rus.h.i.+ng through some crack, or possibly the rain-water and the water from the melted ice on top streaming down through some hole into the sea," said the captain.

"But those explosions!--how would you account for those?" asked Wade.

"Well, I can't pretend to explain that. I have an idea, however, that they resulted from the splitting off of large fragments of ice."

On the whole, it was deemed most prudent to let the schooner lay where she was,--till daylight at least. Planks were got up from below, and thrust down between the side and the ice to keep her from chafing against the sharp angles.

By this time it was near six o'clock, morning, and had begun to grow tolerably light. The rain still continued, however, as did also the bellowings inside the iceberg. Old Trull and Weymouth were set to watch the ice, and the rest of us went down to breakfast. The schooner lay so still, that it seemed like being on sh.o.r.e again. We had got as far as our second cup of coffee, I recollect, when we were startled by another of the same heavy explosions we had heard a few hours previous. It was followed instantly by a second. Then we heard old Trull sing out,--

"Avast from under!"

And, a moment later, there was a tremendous crash on deck, accompanied by a hollow, rattling sound. Dropping our knives and forks, we sprang up the companionway.

"What was that, Trull?" demanded Capt. Mazard.

"A chunk of ice, sir, as big as my old sea-chest!"

"How came that aboard?"

"Rained down, sir. Went up from the top o' the barg, sir, at that thunder-clap, and came plumb down on deck."

The deck-planks were shattered and split where it had struck, and pieces of ice the size of a quart measure lay all about.

"Did you see it fly up from the top of the berg, Weymouth?" Raed asked.

"Yes, sir. It didn't go up till the second pop. I was looking then. It went up like as if it had been shot from a gun; went up thirty or forty feet, then turned in the air, and came down on us. Thought 'twould sink us, sir, sure. There were streams of water in the air at the same time; and water by the hogshead came slos.h.i.+ng over the side of the ice."

"I don't understand that at all," said the captain.

"We must investigate it," said Raed, "if we can. But let's make sure of our breakfast first. I suppose there will be no great danger in letting down the boat as soon as it gets fairly light, will there, captain? This iceberg seems to be a rather mysterious chap. I propose that we circ.u.mnavigate it in the boat. Perhaps we may find a chance to climb on to it."

It was already light; and, by the time breakfast was over, the rain had subsided to a drizzly mist: but the fog was still too thick to see far in any direction. The sea continued comparatively calm. A few minutes after seven, the boat was lowered. Raed and the rest of us boys, with the captain and Weymouth, got in, and pulled round to the windward of the berg. It was a vast, majestic ma.s.s, rising from forty to fifty feet above the water, and covering three or four acres. On the south, south-east, and east sides it rose almost perpendicularly from the sea. No chance to scale it here; and, even if there had been, the water was much too rough to the windward to bring the boat up to it. We continued around it, however, and, near the north-west corner, espied a large crevice leading up toward the top, and filled with broken ice.

"Might clamber up there," suggested the captain.

It looked a little pokerish.

"Let's try it," said Kit.

The boat was brought up within a yard or so of the ice. Watching his chance, Capt. Mazard leaped into the crack.

"Jump, and I'll catch you if you miss," said he.

Raed jumped, and got on all right; but Kit slipped. The captain caught him by the arm, and pulled him up, with no greater damage than a couple of wet trousers-legs. Wade and I followed dry-shod.

"Shove off a few yards, Weymouth, and be ready in case we slip down,"

directed the captain.

But we had no difficulty in climbing up.

The top of the berg was irregular and rough, with pinnacles and "knolls," between which were many deep puddles of water,--fresh water: we drank from one. For some time we saw nothing which tended to explain the explosions; though the dull, roaring noise still continued, seeming directly under our feet: but on crossing over to the south-west side, beneath which the schooner lay, Wade discovered a large, jagged hole something like a well. It was five or six feet across, and situated twenty or twenty-five yards from the side of the berg. Standing around this "well," the rumbling noises were more distinct than we had yet heard them, and were accompanied by a great splas.h.i.+ng, and also by a hissing sound, as of escaping air or steam; and, on peering cautiously down into the hole, we could discern the water in motion. The iceberg heaved slightly with the swell: the gurgling and hissing appeared to follow the heaving motion.

"I think there must be great cavities down in the ice, which serve as chambers for compressed air," remarked Raed; "and somehow the heaving of the berg acts as an air-pump,--something like an hydraulic ram, you know."

As none of us could suggest any better explanation, we accepted this theory, though it was not very clear.

We were going back toward the crevice, when a loud gurgling roar, followed by a report like the discharge of a twenty-four-pounder, made the berg tremble; and, turning, we saw the water streaming from the well. Another gurgle and another report succeeded, almost in the same instant. Jets of water, and bits of ice, were spouted high into the air, and came down splas.h.i.+ng and glancing about. We made off as expeditiously as we could. Fortunately none of the pieces of ice struck us; though Wade and Raed, who were a little behind, were well bespattered. We hurried down to the boat, greatly to the relief of Weymouth, who expected we had "got blown up."

[Raed begs me to add that he hopes the reader will be able to suggest a better explanation of this singular phenomenon than the one that has occurred to him.]

Jumping to the boat, we pulled round to "The Curlew." The sailors were watching for us, with a touch of anxiety on their rough, honest faces.

"Throw us a line!" shouted Capt. Mazard; "and bear a hand at those pike-poles to shove her off. We'll get clear of this iceberg as quick as we can. Something the matter with its insides: liable to bust, I'm afraid."

Catching the line, we bent to the oars, and, with the help of the men with the poles tugged the schooner off, and gradually towed her to a distance of three or four hundred yards from the berg. The boat was then taken in, sail made, and we were again _b.u.mping_ on up the straits.