Nequa; or, The Problem of the Ages

by Alcanoan O. Grigsby; Mary P. Lowe

The blow was so unexpected and so sudden, that I was stupefied, and my astonishment left no room for grief, which gave me a moment for reflection. Here I was, in the ship with him, far within the Arctic Circle, at the beginning of the Arctic winter, and with the certainty of being locked up in the ice for months if not for years. I could not get away from him if I would, and from his own lips I had heard my conduct denounced as the acme of perfidy, and my love spurned as something treacherous and vile. Bitterly and in the most emphatic manner, had he declared that as an honorable man, he could never associate himself in the tender relations of marital love, with one of my tarnished reputation. In his own estimate, he had already assigned me a place among the most debased and abandoned characters, and all there was left for me to do was to preserve my disguise, in order to secure even respectful treatment from the man I loved.

As the full sense of the situation dawned upon me in all its crushing weight of humiliation and anguish, I must have fallen at his feet in a dead faint, but for the clangor of the great bell which had been agreed upon as the signal of immediate peril, to summon each one to the post that had been assigned him in case of sudden emergencies. The alarm came to me as a sweet relief from an agony tenfold more difficult to endure than any possible hardships or dangers from an Arctic storm, amid towering mountains of ice.

There was no time for grief. The emergency demanding prompt action was upon us, and we hurried out upon deck. According to previous arrangements, Captain Ganoe seized the wheel and Captain Battell, as an experienced Arctic navigator, took command, while I, with glass and note book, stood by the wheel to make observations and to render any assistance to Captain Ganoe that might be required.

The cause of alarm at once became apparent. The stiff breeze that had been blowing all day from the southwest, had now increased to a gale, and the icebergs which for days were becoming more numerous on our starboard quarter, had formed a solid pack, which was evidently land-locked, as it remained stationary, while on the larboard, a solid field of ice of vast extent was approaching. It was only a question of a few hours at the utmost, when these two great ice walls must come together and it would be destruction for us to be caught in their deadly embrace.

Retreat was impossible. The only open channel was the one we were pursuing. The walls on either side were continuous, and with my glass I could see the channel behind us blocked with icebergs, urged on in our wake by wind and waves as if determined not to let us escape. Our only safety seemed to be in our being able to sail beyond these two continuous walls of ice before they came together. Captain Battell, with his glass kept up a rapid survey of the horizon, and gave orders through his trumpet as calmly as if scenes like this were matters of every day occurrence, and Captain Ganoe, at the wheel, responded as if he was part of the machinery, which he handled with rapidity and precision.

It was a scene never to be forgotten. The midnight sun hung just above the horizon. Off to our larboard, an unbroken wall of ice extending as far as the eye, assisted by a powerful glass could reach, was bearing down upon us. On our starboard another wall of ice against which the waves were dashing in all their fury, stood apparently as firm as the granite shores against which it rested. Behind us, the channel was filled with detached masses of ice, which if caught between these ice walls might hasten the closing of the channel before us. Could we escape? was the all pervading question that propounded itself to us.

Every sail was set and under the pressure of every pound of steam our boilers could carry, the Ice King leaped forward like a frightened deer, as if conscious of the doom that was impending. For hours we kept up this reckless speed. The foam flew in blinding spray from the ship's quarters, fretted along her sides and left a broad white line in her wake. The whistling of the wind in her rigging and the regular plunging of her engines, made pandemonium on board.

It was indeed a race for life, and in my perturbed state of mind I actually enjoyed the excitement, almost hoping that it might culminate in the destruction threatened. With the courage of despair I calmly surveyed the scene and took my notes, occasionally assisting Captain Ganoe at the wheel. This was the first real danger that we had encountered, and my interview with the Captain had given me a reckless daring to meet it without a tremor, that seems almost miraculous.

We still kept up this rapid flight, and as far as the eye could reach the two great ice walls still confronted each other and the channel of open water continued to grow more narrow. Soon we had to veer from side to side to avoid collisions with the jagged shore-lines of ice, but nowhere was there any indication that when they came together an open space would be formed sufficient to protect the ship. We were compelled to reduce our speed, and still the ice-fields were coming closer together and at last we were forced to creep along a narrow, crooked channel between two great packs of ice-mountains which often towered far above the mainmast of the Ice King.

The outlook was desperate, but the ice on our larboard ceased to approach, and for a moment it seemed as if we might escape into open water. But not so. Our way was blocked. An ice-mountain loomed up before us, and we came to a full stop. It was this that had probably checked the advance of the moving ice-pack, and saved us from the cruel "nip" which has crushed so many hapless vessels in these dangerous waters.