CHAPTER IV. AND LAST.
HOW JOHN WHOPPER GOT ALONG AT THE NORTH POLE.
I shall now give the general result of an exploration of the iceberg, which occupied me for several days. I use the word day in the ordinary sense, as indicating a period of twenty-four hours; although, during my stay in the arctic region, the daylight was perpetual. This frozen island, which was to be for a time my habitation, extended, so far as I could judge, over an area of about five hundred acres; but there were certain marks about the surface and cleavages on the sides, which indicated that it was originally of much greater size. It was also very evident that it had assumed its form, and been detached from the shore, at some point on the coast many degrees remote from its present position, and had then been driven towards the pole by some extraordinary current into which it had happened to fall. At some former period, this iceberg must have floated, or been stationary, in a region where game abounded and birds were plenty; where vessels sailed, and where vessels were wrecked; and, when it was launched from the shore, it carried off with it not less than an acre of good, rich loam,—the effect, probably, of a land-slide in the vicinity. It will, I think, be seen that it is only upon this general supposition, that we can account for what I found there. I may here observe, before proceeding further, that, while on three sides the walls of the berg rose almost perpendicularly out of the sea, yet on the remaining side there was quite an easy and gradual slope down to the water; and this may also serve to explain how some of the things that I found on the island were thrown or lifted there.
The food that I had brought with me from Canton was soon exhausted; and the first great want that I experienced was the means of keeping my soul in my body. In the deep crevices of the ice, I found places where I could manage in a measure to shelter my body from the cold while I slept; but what reasonable prospect had I of finding food in this forlorn spot? I now began to feel the pangs of hunger; but, instead of yielding to despair, with a stout heart I determined to search the region thoroughly, and see if a kind Providence had not made some provision for my wants. After roaming about for a while, my foot struck upon a little keg, partially embedded in the ice; and, to my joy, I read the mark on the top, "Bent's Hard Crackers, Milton, Mass." It took me hardly a minute to kick it open; and there the crackers lay, as sound and sweet as when they were first packed. I do not know exactly how many I ate, but I should say not much over fifteen. The keg was then put in a safe place, where I should be certain to find it by and by. In the course of the forenoon, I came upon a frozen bear; and I also found, in the same vicinity, plenty of old barrel-staves, and broken hoops, and other pieces of wood, great and small, which I laid in a heap upon the earth. "Now," said I, "we will have a bit of roast meat for dinner, with a few toasted crackers for dessert." Before two o'clock, I had a bright fire burning, and a delicate slice of the bear roasting before it.
The next thing to be done was to strip the bear of his skin; but this I found to be a difficult task. It had been a tough job to cut out with my jack-knife the frozen slice of meat upon which I had just dined; and it was impossible to strip off the skin without tearing it in pieces. A bright thought now occurred to me, and I proceeded to kindle a fire all around the animal; and when the heat had become strong enough just to loosen the hide from the carcass, I went to work, and, in an hour or two, had a nice warm robe to wrap myself in at night. At the same time I extinguished the fire, as I did not care to cook the entire bear all at once.
My jar of water gave out the day that I was dropped upon the berg; and at first I thought that I could quench my thirst by eating small bits of ice, but I soon found that this only increased the difficulty. I then remembered to have read in a magazine, that the amount of caloric taken out of the system in order to melt the ice in one's mouth was so great as to only increase the feeling of thirst. All anxiety, however, on this point was soon at an end; for the sun was now hot enough, for an hour or two at noon, to melt a sufficient quantity of the loose snow in certain localities to furnish all the water that I needed.
With my bear-meat and Bent's crackers for food, and my bearskin for a blanket, I might now be considered for the present as above the reach of absolute want; and still it is not to be supposed that I was in a very contented and happy frame of mind. I was very thankful for all the mercies that I had received; and, when I looked back upon all the wonderful deliverances that I had experienced, I could not help feeling confident that all would go well with me hereafter.[1]
But the great want that I felt was a home, or at least something,—some hut or hovel, or hole in the ground,—to which I might retire when my labor was over, where I could eat my frugal meals, and lie down to slumber at night. I longed for a place in which I could feel that I was localized, around which domestic associations might gradually entwine themselves, and where I might sing in the twilight the songs of my childhood.[2]