“Rig up the ice-saws, Mr Bolton, set all hands at them, and get out the powder-canisters,” cried Captain Guy, coming hastily on deck.
“Ay, ay, sir,” responded the mate. “All hands to the ice-saws! Look alive, boys! Ho! Mr Saunders! where’s Mr Saunders?”
“Here I am,” answered the worthy second mate in a quiet voice.
“Oh, you’re there? get up some powder, Mr Saunders, and a few canisters.”
There was a heartiness in the tone and action with which these orders were given and obeyed that proved they were possessed of more than ordinary interest; as, indeed, they were, for the time had now come for making preparations for cutting the ship out of winter-quarters, and getting ready to take advantage of any favourable opening in the ice that might occur.
“Do you hope to effect much?” enquired Captain Ellice of Captain Guy, who stood at the gangway watching the men as they leaped over the side, and began to cut holes with ice chisels preparatory to fixing the saws and powder-canisters.
“Not much,” replied the captain; “but a little in these latitudes is worth fighting hard for, as you are well aware. Many a time have I seen a ship’s crew strain and heave on warps and cables for hours together, and only gain a yard by all their efforts; but many a time, also, have I seen a single yard of headway save a ship from destruction.”
“True,” rejoined Captain Ellice; “I have seen a little of it myself. There is no spot on earth, I think, equal to the Polar regions for bringing out into bold relief two great and apparently antagonistic truths—namely, man’s urgent need of all his powers to accomplish the work of his own deliverance, and man’s utter helplessness and entire dependence on the sovereign will of God.”
“When shall we sink the canisters, sir?” asked Bolton, coming up and touching his hat.
“In an hour, Mr Bolton; the tide will be full then, and we shall try what effect a blast will have.”