“What at?” replied Steve; “the long line of ice?”
“No,” said Captain Marsham. “Look right beyond the ire. Another of those pests—troubles of arctic voyaging, my boy,” he continued, correcting himself.
“What, that silvery-looking cloud over the ice? Does that mean wind?”
“I wish it did, Steve, so as to save our coal. No, boy; it means another of those dense mists. I hope only a passing one; but you have had a taste of what an arctic fog can be like. We must make haste; these mists creep on so swiftly. Make a signal, Johannes. The Hvalross must come on and pick us up, or we shall have to cast off our fish.”
The next minute a little flag was hoisted in the bows to the end of one of the lance-poles, with the result that there was soon after a cloud of black smoke rolling out of the steamer’s funnel and an increase in the white water at her stern; but the boat went no faster, for the white whale was heavy, although the men pulled with a will.
“They ought to see the fog coming on in the other boat,” said the captain impatiently. “Of course if we are shut in we shall be able to reach the Hvalross. We could do that by listening for their signals, which they would be sure to make; but I hate unnecessary anxiety, Steve, and it is very awkward to be caught by one of these dense mists—everything is so puzzling.”
He ceased speaking, and sat watching the other boat making, like themselves, slowly for the same point. And now, seeing the urgency, Johannes and his brother Norsemen seated themselves and put out spare oars to help on the speed. But the whale they were towing seemed to anchor them in one place; and at last, just as the steamer was still quite half a mile away, a peculiar change came over the sea. The sun was still shining brightly, but the other boat grew dim and enlarged-looking, as if it were magnified and set in a bluish opal. There was the long range of ice cliff, but it was curiously blue and undefined.
“I say,” cried Steve suddenly, “what’s the matter with the Hvalross?”
He started from his seat as he spoke, for the steamer was no longer upon the blue water,—there was no blue water,—but apparently twenty feet up in the air, and gradually rising higher till it was double the height, while the funnel, masts, and hull looked soft and swollen out of all proportion.
“An optical illusion, my boy,” said the captain quietly. “Sit down. You have heard of refraction. It is a peculiar state of the air. I daresay we look the same to them. Pull, my lads. I’m afraid the mist will be down upon us before we can reach the ship. Look at that.”