The harpooner and the mate now changed places, the latter individual taking his station in the bow, after Marline had relieved him in the stern-sheets. Each of the two men found it difficult to maintain his position, for the whale had, this time, “milled” (turned under water), and was now dragging the light boat through heavy fragments of ice, that caused it to sway from side to side with that quick, jerking motion which only a well-balanced body can resist.
The constant jamming of the boat against the rough edges of the floating bergs, through which it was forced onward like a wedge, seamed it with many cracks; but, as the bottom had not yet been injured, the water did not enter with sufficient rapidity to overpower the efforts of the man who was “bailing out.”
“Look out there! look to your oars!” shouted Briggs, as the flying vessel approached the entrance to one of those floating tunnels that form one of the many icy curiosities of the northern seas. It was about twenty feet in length, and the passage was so narrow—the roof so low—that the mate, as they continued to approach it, placed his hand upon the knife in the bow, feeling half conscious that it was his duty to sever the line and loose the whale, rather than to risk the lives of himself and his crew by attempting the dangerous channel; for when he should have entered it, the slightest deviation of the boat from its direct course, would result in its destruction.
He threw a glance behind him, to see whether, in case such an event should take place, his fellow-officers would be near enough to witness it and to come to the rescue in time; but his surprise may well be imagined, when he discovered that the three vessels he had left astern were no longer visible, on account of one of those sudden fogs so common in that region, and which now covered the whole surface of the ice behind him, and also the open stretch of blue water beyond.
“Well!” he exclaimed, turning to Marline, “here’s a dirty fog coming upon us, without a moment’s warning!”
“There were signs of it before we struck the whale—in fact, when we first lowered!” replied the harpooner. “I saw it gathering in the nor’west, and a breeze has sprung up since then and hurried it along.”
“Ay, ay, I don’t doubt it,” answered Briggs. “But there’s no time to lose in chattering about it. What d’ye say, men,” he added, addressing the crew; “shall we cut, or hold on and try the tunnel? I am willing to try it for one.”
“So am I!” cried Bates, and the rest of the men expressing themselves in a similar manner, the mate breathed a sigh of relief, for he now felt as though a load had been lifted from his conscience.
By this time the boat was within a few feet of the tunnel, and the men placed their oars lengthwise across the thwarts, so that they might not come in contact with the sides of the narrow passage, and bowed their heads to prevent them from striking against the low, jagged roof of ice.
With unabated speed the light vessel flew on, and presently it darted, with the swiftness of a discharged arrow, into the mouth of the archway.