"We ran to the spot, and found a place between two floes where the ice was much broken up, as if some one had tried to catch something with a boat-hook; and Randall told us that his brother had fallen through and been carried under the ice before he could get to him. We broke the ice all around, but to no purpose; and then our lookouts discovered that we were in danger of getting nipped on the other side of the Magdalens. So we returned to the ship with George, sadly enough."
"Why were the rifle-shots fired? to call for assistance?" asked La Salle.
"Yes. None of our men have the rifle, although many are supplied with the old sealing-gun. We therefore agreed among the officers that three shots, fired in rapid succession, should call assistance in case of danger, or trouble with the men. Our rifles are all breech-loading carbines, and we can fire with great rapidity."
"Do you find them of service among the seals?"
"Yes, especially with the 'old hoods;' and poor Captain Randall, who spent some years in Europe, had his ammunition fitted so that the bullets explode on striking a bone. They tear a terrible hole in a seal, I assure you."
"Indeed! I never saw one of them, although it seems to me that I have read of the invention. Have you any of the bullets here? for I suppose the rifle was lost at the same time."
The sailing-master, or rather pilot, a short, thick-set Newfoundlander, took up the conversation.
"Dere's de rifle now, hangin' over your head. De captain was ailin', an' his brother, who fancied de little piece, carried it. Dere's one of de cartridges in it yet."
So saying, he took down a short carbine of the Spencer pattern, and unlocking the slide, took out a cartridge and handed it to La Salle. It displayed at the end of the ball the copper capsule of a rifle-shell.
"Let us go on deck," said Blake, rising; but as they passed again through the narrow passage, they heard the struggles of the delirious captain, and his oft-repeated cry, "I couldn't save him! I couldn't save him!"