With the dawn we were under steam again, and wound our way in and out and about till, at mid-day, a shout from aloft proclaimed land in sight. And then we saw it. Far away, gray and shadowy through the haze it ran across the horizon, a long wall of rock or ice-faced cliff, reaching from east to west and dying into the dimness of the ice-strewn sea.
As we drew nearer, down the long corridors between the floes, it seemed to grow higher and more implacable at every mile. Sheer, ledgeless, and ice-smooth it was, never an approach or opening to its summit visible.
The shadows beneath hung duskly over the ripples, making the blue of the outer ocean seem to have an edge of mourning on its brightness. Here and there a berg clanged and butted against it restlessly, grinding away huge masses of its flanks in showers of twinkling splinters.
Along its sea-level the pack-ice heaved, eternally smoothing and planing its surface. About its face the sea-birds swirled, dipping and shrilling in their clouds. From many a little channel on its summit the rivulets from the melting glaciers fell in sparkling cascades, like the swishing tails of a stabled squadron. And far beyond it, smiting up haughtily into the empty blue, a giant range of mountains reared their heads, grim, white, and glancing in the sunlight.
We slowed when we were within a mile of it, and then began to wear a way slowly along parallel to the land, waiting till we should see some sign of a break or cranny in the relentless cliff. But never a sign of one was there. Early in the afternoon we raised islands to the northeast, and threw the lead, finding fifteen fathoms. We crept into the channel which ran between this archipelago and the mainland, and found a larger space of open water. Here, then, at Lessaution’s earnest request I anchored, and dropped a boat down for him; with a crew of six we put off, and rowed down the narrow, changing passages towards the crags.
The little Frenchman was sanguine that a nearer investigation would show a means of scaling the heights, but try as we would, and strain our eyes, as we did, to the uttermost, no vestige of a split or crevice in those endless walls of rock could we see. We rowed and rowed, but the result was ever the same. The sea-lanes between the floating lumps of floe stretched endlessly across the sea like the meshes of a spider’s web. We seemed to grope in an eternal maze, which had no appointed outlet. Only now and again could we approach the wall of ice and stone that overhung us. We had to be on guard continuously. The pack would spring and close like the jaws of a trap, and we had to back and row, and row and back, without cessation, to avoid its ever-waiting grip. One very sharp escape we had. We were lying on our oars, while the Professor examined some of the lichen which covered the cliff in patches, when we were suddenly aware, that what a moment before had been a sheet of water, clear for an acre around, was a fast thinning streak of sea. There was a yell from Rafferty, who steered, and then by backing furiously we managed to crawl into a pool between two sturdy bergs, and wind our way out into the less crowded channels. But as we saw the floe surge down upon the rock, and grate and grind upon it lingeringly, scoring away its own edges by the ton, we shuddered to think what an eggshell our boat would have been between that mighty hammer and that granite anvil.
That day was but the precursor of many. The yacht, with banked fires, perpetually corkscrewed her way along about a mile from shore, and day by day we took our boat and wandered continually in the shadow of the frowning wall. In Lessaution’s breast hope burnt eternally, but only to be quenched at night. His plans were numerous, and some of them ludicrously ingenious. He suggested that a kite should be flown with a knotted rope attached, which might perchance catch in some crevice on the top, and permit him to give us a gymnastic display. He wondered if the carpenter could not manufacture a hundred-foot ladder, and then anchoring the good ship Racoon below the precipice, enable us to place the highest rung against the top. He even proposed that Gerry should throw his cartridges into the common stock—this I am convinced was partly from jealousy at Gerry’s owning these useful articles, which he had forgotten—that they should be opened, and that the resulting powder should be used to blast a way from point to point, and thus a path be won over these disgraceful rocks at which he shook his fist perpetually.
These futile proposals meeting the contempt they deserved, he became gloomy and morose, hinting strongly that our hearts were not really in this quest, and affirming that he, with his unquenchable French valor, was perfectly prepared to be left upon an iceberg with such provision as we could spare, if we thought it advisable to give up the adventure through our want of spirit.
After about three weeks of this sort of thing I ventured to interpose. I explained to him carefully that I did not purpose giving up the expedition altogether, but that I must plead for an interval in it. I affirmed mendaciously that I had arranged with the worthy Crum to call at the Falkland Isles in case there should be matters of importance to be telegraphed or otherwise sent—I had not the least idea if there was a telegraph station, and had a notion the post went once a year—and I must beg to be allowed to proceed there for this purpose, to re-coal, and to get further store of provision.
The unfortunate little man lamented desperately. Once let us get away when we were thus on the spot, and it was inevitable that we should never return. Might we not have one more week—nay, a day? That very evening as we knocked off work he had viewed a break in the top-line of these unbending crags, of which he had the brightest hopes. How could we find the spot again? He must implore—he must entreat.