“As we now know where we are,” said Mr Meldrum, when the fact was established, “we must give the island as wide a berth as we can, for the coast is most dangerous; and in winter-time, as it is now, July being the December of the antipodes, the most fearful storms are said to spring up at a moment’s notice in its vicinity. As the wind is still from the north-west, and we are well up to the northward, I should try to weather it if possible; and, if we can’t do that, we must pass to the south of the land.”
“Very good,” replied the captain. “Only, you know the poor old Nancy cannot sail as well now, as she could when in full trim. I don’t at all like the look of the weather, though, Mr Meldrum. It seems to me that ono of those coast storms you were speaking of is brewing up. The ice, too, is getting thick round us again; and if a fog comes on again we’ll be in a worse position than yesterday, for then we’d plenty of sea-room at any rate, while now, we have that blessed island almost dead to leeward.”
“We must trust in Providence,” said Mr Meldrum, “and keep a sharp look-out if the fog thickens; but try to beat to windward we must, if possible!”
During the bright morning, the hands, working diligently under the supervision and help of the first mate and Adams, the second, had been trying to make the Nancy Bell a little more shipshape, and, although they had been greatly hampered through the ropes and running gear being frozen so stiff that it was almost impossible to unbend or run them, they succeeded finally in trussing the mainyard again and splicing the braces, so that they now were able to set the mainsail reefed, a welcome addition to the limited sailing power of the ship in working to windward.
All things were proceeding very satisfactorily in the afternoon, by which time they had got the land to bear well on the lee-beam, and it looked as if they could weather it; when, suddenly, there came on a thick snowstorm, mingled with showers of hail, and the same kind of mist which had risen almost at a precisely similar hour on the previous day again enveloped them in its folds, shutting out all view of the water at even a short distance from the vessel’s side.
The Nancy Bell was then steering nor’-nor’-east and some ten miles off the land, with the wind coming from the northward and westward in squalls. Presently, it blew so fresh that the lately set mainsail had to be taken in again, and next the mizzen, for the ship heeled over so much that it was thought at one time she would not recover her stability; but, even under the reefed fore staysail, which was still retained to enable her to weather the land, she tore through the water at such a rate, that, in spite of the continual watch, it was most difficult to avoid the heavy masses of floating ice that seemed to spring up on all sides again, and which she had appeared to have been leaving behind her in the morning.
“Sure and it’s a worse look-out than last night, sorr,” said the first mate to Mr Meldrum, who was peering out anxiously to windward, the gale veering round just at the most critical time to the northward. “Faix, and I don’t think we can weather them islands now, with all this ice about too.”
“Nor do I,” replied Mr Meldrum. “Captain Dinks, we’ll have to run for it. Do you think you can wear her?”
“If your rudder holds out,” said the captain.
“I’ll guarantee the rudder,” answered Mr Meldrum. “The only thing is, I fear the spars will go.”