Chapter VI: “to the West, to the West”

At the council or consultation that took place some days after this in the ward-room of the _Walrus_, both Charlie and Walt were present, but, of course, were not supposed to speak.

It was resolved therein that, instead of plunging at once into the great ice-pack, and attempting to find out the South Pole by one bold rush, the two ships should first spend ten or eleven months in sailing completely round the world that lies all beneath or south of the latitudes of Kerguelen and Cape Horn or Tierra del Fuego, and other southern lands around the Antarctic Continent.

But they were to sail in different directions, one, the _Sea Elephant_, going eastwards, the good old _Walrus_ westwards.

Perhaps they might meet halfway round on the high seas. Anyhow--if all turned out well--they hoped once more to unite their forces at Kerguelen, and thence bear up for the pole itself, or, at all events, get South as far as possible.

This had not been the first intention of the expedition, but the officers thereof were, of course, right in altering their plans.

But what about the bears, and dogs, and the Eskimos themselves?

This was a matter for serious consideration. It was true that there was food enough for all on board the _Walrus_, and that during explorations, surveyings, and observation-taking all along the line of route, they would be able to catch enough fish to keep the bears and Yak dogs in good health and condition.

“With all my love for the creatures we are so fond of calling the lower animals,” said Captain Mayne Brace, “I must admit that bears and Yak dogs are not the very best shipmates one can possess. What say you, Mr. Milton?”

“No, sir; we found that out in bringing the beggars home. A bear doesn’t sleep so sweetly as a well-cared-for baby. Gruff is apt to wake at night to cough or yawn, and when he does so he wakes his wife, and she coughs or yawns; then the dogs join, and bedlam isn’t a circumstance to the row they make.”

“Well, now,” continued Brace, “I have a question to put. Why shouldn’t we leave them all here on Kerguelen till our return?”

“Why,” cried Captain Bell, “that is a splendid idea of yours. The Yak-Yaks can build their own shelters, and feed and look after the whole pack. Are you agreeable to that proposal, Mr. Armstrong?”

“Oh, quite. In fact, Captain Bell, the bears and dogs are not the best companions; their voices are hardly melodious enough to conduce to sleep, and they are like Artemus Ward’s elephants--they are powerful eaters. So _I_ agree.”

And all agreed. And as soon as everything was got ready on shore, both Eskimos and animals were landed; and then the two ships bade each other farewell, and each steamed away on her own track.

It will thus be seen that both vessels would sail round the world, and each would make different observations and explorations.

But for the present, at all events, we must sail away in the _Walrus_.

Strangely enough, for the first few days the men actually missed the bears and dogs.

Dumpty himself, who was very fond of Gruff and even Growley, used to stand staring in at the empty cage for a quarter of an hour at a time, and openly declared that he couldn’t sleep half so well now the dear old chaps were gone; and many of the crew also thought the change was not one for the better. However, that remained to be seen.

I must remind the reader just here that, though neither Charlie nor Walter was bound apprentice, they were, nevertheless, already good sailors, and that, moreover, they determined to adopt the sea as a profession eventually. They now tried, therefore, to learn all they could, and were not too proud or lazy to help on deck, and even take their trick at the wheel.

This latter is hard work and weary, especially when the thermometer is at or below zero, a high wind blowing, and when your mittens get frozen to the spokes. It is bad enough in tropical seas, with the sun beating down almost vertically on one’s head, the waves all aglitter with light and heat, and the pitch a-boil between the planks of the quarter-deck. And yet--having done both--I much prefer the heat to the excessive cold of Polar seas when steering.

Whenever time permitted, the boys now sought the companionship of Ingomar. He was a treasure, to their way of thinking. There was no feeling lonely when he was there, whether it were treading the decks by day or listening to his stories and talk at eventide.

Where he had picked up all his knowledge was a puzzle to both lads, and his yarns, at all events, bore an exceedingly strong resemblance to the truth.

There was plenty of music on board, and besides this, almost every one could sing a bit. Before leaving Kerguelen the dogs generally began to sing when the band began to play. The bandsmen could now play in peace, and there was no Gruff nor Grumpey to imitate the trombone. Wallace the collie was far too much of a gentleman to interrupt. Well, there were games of all sorts to go in for in fine weather, and when the storms raged and stormy winds blew, they could read and yarn.

Perhaps the _Walrus_ was not so well found in food and drinkables as an Atlantic liner. Yet there was enough, and everything was of the best.

What more could heart of sailor desire?

I think, though, that Ingomar, who remained in the _Walrus_, would have been glad if his friend Curtis had made one of the crew of this ship.

One word from the American and the transference would have been accomplished; but he did not speak that word. It would, he thought, look as if he, being the owner of the ships, were interfering with the arrangements thereof.

“Perhaps, after all,” he said to himself, “it is better as it is. We don’t know what may transpire yet. Arnold does not look a bit too strong, and--well, _I_ should not like to see him sink and die.”

* * * * *

“Right gaily goes a ship when the wind blows free.” Thus sing some sailor lads.

And the wind did blow free, and fast also, some few days after the two discovery vessels parted company.

Not with the force of a gale, however, but that of a strong breeze, almost like a joyous trade wind, that filled the white and flowing sail and bent the gallant masts. This is perhaps a trifle too figurative, for the masts of ships like these would take a deal of wind before they bent, and when they did so, they would probably break. Of course the _Walrus_ was not in low enough latitudes to catch the regular or trade winds.

These, it will do you, reader, no harm to know, are really north winds and south winds, that seem out of their course by the motion of the earth in its revolution. In the north of the equator, and its belts of calm and variable winds, and extending from about 10° N. lat. to about 30° N., we have the N.E. trades; and south of the equatorial belt we get, as you would naturally expect, the S.E. trades.

That is near enough for most landsmen to know. If, however, you ask why the winds blow towards the equator, I need only tell you that Nature abhors a vacuum. Well, along the great hot regions round the earth’s waist you have such a vacuum, because heated air always ascends, and winds rush in from both sides to fill it up.

The winds far south of the trades have often, in summer particularly, a northerly direction, because the ocean is here warmer than the ice. But these are very variable.

On the whole, perhaps, the study of the winds is best left to the meteorologist.

A single glance at a map of the Antarctic will show any one what a vast stretch of lonesome ocean there is betwixt Kerguelen and Tierra del Fuego, which is the lowest land of the great South American continent.

The wind to the _Walrus_, and to the _Sea Elephant_ as well, would be ever welcome, unless it came in the somewhat questionable shape of a hurricane, because they must steam just as little as possible. The _Elephant_, it is true, had more than filled up at Mauritius. In fact, she had arrived at Kerguelen a bumper ship, with coals, coals everywhere, and these she had shared with the _Walrus_.

More than this, in the _Sea Elephant’s_ passage back to Kerguelen, she would probably call at the Cape to coal up again--or somewhere else; and, indeed, in a voyage such as this, a good deal has to be left to what is termed blind chance, though be assured chance never is or was blind--every wind and every current of the ocean is but obeying inexorable laws in blowing or flowing whither it does.

* * * * *

Navigation, nowadays, is so strange and difficult a study to a mere outsider, or ’longshoreman, that although told that the _Walrus_ was bearing up for the Crozet Islands, and although they could easily position these on the map or chart, and knew therefore that they lay to the nor’ard and west of Kerguelen, Charlie and Walt were considerably puzzled when they looked at the compass to see which way the ship’s head was.

“We seem to be going a bit zigzag, don’t we, Charlie, old man?” said Walt to his companion one fine forenoon.

“I thought so too, Walt; but I suppose we’ll get there all the same. Come along. Don’t puzzle your head; the dogs want a scamper, and luckily we’re off duty.”

Everybody was dressed in extra clothing now, and this added considerably to everybody’s breadth of beam, but especially, apparently, to Dumpty’s. He was, indeed, a curious figure; and the Newfoundlands and ship’s collie all seemed to know there was something rather ridiculous about his build, and were never tired getting some fun out of him.

Dumpty had been throwing a wooden belaying-pin along the decks to-day, that the wise animals might have exercise. And this was a species of exercise they appeared to enjoy as much as a young man does football.

Collie himself was nearly always first in the field or first to rush after and catch the belaying-pin. But unless he changed ground, or rather deck, and tried to get to Dumpty--who stood for goal--from the other side, he was rolled over, and had speedily to give up his prize, and fall back upon barking to relieve his mind.

But this forenoon they had varied the performance a bit, at a suggestion from big, beautiful Nick himself.

“Come on, Dumpty,” Nick seemed to cry. “You are better than a thousand belaying-pins. Hurrah!”

So he sprang at the droll little man, and down he went.

The two great dogs rolled Dumpty round and round, and over and over along the deck, in the funniest way possible, and with their paws, too, though whenever there was a hitch, Collie gave them a little assistance by seizing Dumpty’s jacket, and hauling him a yard or two.

In this way they rolled him to goal, which to-day was the quarter-deck.

Here they met the boys, and Nick and Nora were constrained to stand up to smile and gasp. This gave Dumpty a chance of escaping to the rigging, and then Charlie and Walter came in for it.

They did not “down” them; but while Nick sprang up and seized Charlie’s cap, Nora did the same for Walt, and then came the grand scamper round and round the decks, four yards of solid Newfoundland and forty inches of collie.

The boys could do nothing but look on and laugh, till, tiring at last, the dear old dogs marched solemnly up and deposited their caps--unmarked by teeth--at their feet.

“Couldn’t really help it,” said Nick, apologetically, speaking with eyes and tail.

“And I only did what Nick did,” said Nora, saucily.

The fiddles were hardly ever off the table now, for the sea, if not actually rough, was a bit lumpy, and there was plenty of motion. Hot soup is very nice and nourishing for a sailor’s inside, but when a roll of the ship spills it all into his lap, it is not quite so pleasant.

Charlie, I think, was the better sailor, and though Walt often ventured into the crow’s-nest, he was generally glad enough to get down again. The crow’s-nest swung so, he explained. Well, it is not a very easy job to get there, as it is a cask with a railing at top, hoisted to and fixed but a little way under the main-truck. But no rigging leads right up to it, so you have to squirm up a Jacob’s ladder from the main-top cross-trees, and to do this you must go quarter-way round the mast. This tries the head of a landsman, I can assure you. Most landsmen who had never been on horseback before, would rather make up their minds to ride a buck-jumper than attempt to reach this same crow’s-nest when there is a bit of seaway on, were it never so little.

It isn’t fun--the first day--reaching even to the cross-trees. Then, having run the risk of your life--not being a Blondin--and gained a footing on the lower rungs of the Jacob’s ladder, you cannot help wondering as you scramble up, hanging back downwards half the time, if it will give way with your weight, and which would be the easier way, when you do fall, to meet death--getting smashed up on the ship’s bulwarks or being plunged headlong into the cold sea.

You enter through a trap-hole at the bottom, and though you may feel safe for just a little while, evil, discomforting thoughts return, and you cannot be quite certain whether or not the crow’s-nest is properly secured, or whether, if the wind begins to blow, you won’t be emptied out altogether.

And then comes the going down again. You must not look below, or you may lose your head altogether. Just shut your eyes and open the trap, slue round after that, and make sure of your footing, then cautiously, foot over foot, you may reach the rigging, and afterwards the deck.

In cold weather a spell in the nest is really a terrible experience.

Yet Charlie never feared to face it, any more than he would have funked a ride in a motor car against the wind on a stormy day.

But when one has got acclimatized to the crow’s-nest, it is a real pleasure to be in it, and to have an eye on the sea and the cloudscape. There are splendid telescopes kept up here, and it is always nice to be the first to sight a craft of any kind, with only her topmasts rising over the far-off horizon.

It was Charlie who had the luck to first discover the Crozet Islands, and bleak and dismal they did look, for, this being summer, there was no snow on the rocks, but with his fine sight he could distinguish birds in myriads.

He felt quite a man, too, when he hailed the quarter-deck, trying to imitate the hoarse shout of the bo’s’n’s mate with his ringing--

“Below there!”

“Ay, ay, _sir_,” sang up the officer of the watch, putting particular emphasis on the “_sir_,” more for fun, I think, than anything else.

“Thank you,” said Captain Mayne Brace. “How does it lie?”

“About two points on the weather bow.”

This was so nautical that the boy had to take a long breath after it, and wind himself up as it were.

But the hail, anyhow, although it had had the effect of making even the man at the wheel smile a little, produced no little excitement on board, and more than one camera was got ready to take snapshots at the shore as soon as it put in an appearance from the deck.