Adrift in the Ice-Fields

by Charles Winslow Hall

"If we only had a flat stone to set it on," said Waring.

"I should not despair of that even," said La Salle, "if we dared look around on some of the older floes; but we shall have to do without one for a day or two, I think."

"Peter make glate, three, two minutes, only glate burn up every day or two;" and hastening out, he returned with a very large decoy, which, on account of its portentous size, had been made the leader of the "set" when arranged on the ice.

With the axe he broke off the head, and then taking six of the ten iron legs, he drove them two or three inches deep into the tough spruce log, until the spikes surrounded it like the points of a crown. La Salle had re-riveted the four others at equal distances around the base of the stove, while Regnar had removed a part of the snow on the roof, and, cutting a large aperture through the bottom of the inverted box, nailed over it the eleventh decoy, through which a roughly-cut hole gave admittance to the chimney.

The fir-branches were then removed to the yard, and covered from the still falling rain with the rubber blanket, while all hands joined in enlarging their quarters. The ice was singularly hard and clear, and contained no cracks or other sources of weakness. By sunset the lower part of the hut was enlarged from eight feet square to twelve feet diameter, a circular shape being given to the excavation, so that a continuous berth, about two feet wide and a yard high, ran completely around the floor of the hut, or rather to within about four feet of the door on either side. The fir-twigs were replaced in the berths and around the floor, leaving a bare space of nearly four feet diameter in the centre. Here a slight hollow was made, to contain the novel grate, and the stove was placed in position over it.

Waring brought in a shovelful of embers from the dying fire outside, under whose ashes a goose, swathed in sea-weed, was preparing for supper, and Peter followed him with some small chunks of wood. The stove "drew" beautifully, and but one drawback could be discovered—it made the atmosphere within too warm for comfort, at the then temperature. "No matter that," said Peter, prophetically; "we glad see plenty fire here to-morrow night."

It was nearly midnight when the four ate supper and gave the fragments to their faithful dog. Before sleeping, La Salle stepped outside the hut. The wind had lessened greatly, but still blew mildly warm from a southerly direction. "We must now be somewhere off Shediac, but I see no open water, and the pack is as close as ever. We shan't get down to the capes with this wind, and to-morrow at this time, if the wind holds, we shall be up to Point Escumenac. I don't care to think what next; but if, as Peter says, we are to have cold, westerly weather, we must move off into the open Gulf and then—Well, we shall endure what it pleases God to send us."

Notwithstanding their fatigue, all were awake at daylight the next morning, and immediately the whole party ascended their lookout. The wind still blew in very nearly the same direction, but with little force, and at noon, as the party sat down to their first meal for the day, no land could be plainly determined, and for an hour the utmost calm prevailed, with an unclouded sun. The pack was still closed, however, with the exception of two or three small openings, in which were seen a seal and several flocks of moniac ducks, known on the Atlantic coast as "South-Southerlies." The former could not be approached, but Peter got two shots at the ducks as they gyrated over the berg, and killed three at one time and four at another, which were duly skinned, and the bodies consigned to the "meat-safe," a hole in the ice near the door.

This meal tasted a little better than the former ones, the birds being seasoned with salt procured from sea-water by boiling—a slow process, which La Salle promised to make easier when the next frost set in. The bird-skins had been carefully cleaned from fat, and sewed into two blankets about seven feet by five each, and stretched on the ice with the flesh side uppermost, were rubbed with salt and ashes, and then exposed to the sun, receiving considerable benefit thereby.

For supper, a soup of fowls thickened with grated biscuit was eaten with hearty relish by all but Waring, who claimed to have eaten too much at dinnertime, although La Salle fancied that he looked flushed and pale by turns.