John Whopper / The Newsboy

by Thomas M. Clark

The fifth day of my sojourn on the iceberg was the great day of discovery. I determined, that morning, that I would now make a thorough survey of the whole island. I knew that it would be rough work, and somewhat dangerous; for, in some places, there were cavities fifty feet deep, and I should have to climb over some very steep ice, where it was as smooth as glass. Before starting, I pulled several nails out of the hoops that lay around, and drove them into the soles of my boots; and I was fortunate enough to find a good stout stick, into the end of which I also fastened one of the nails. Filling my pockets with crackers, and slinging a slice of cooked bear's meat over my shoulder, I started off, having been careful first to pile up several loose blocks of ice in the form of a pillar, so that I might be able to find the place again. I then struck—as it afterwards turned out most fortunately—for that side of the berg where the surface shelved off gradually to the water. About eleven o'clock, I found myself standing on quite a lofty peak of ice; and, looking down, my eyes fell upon a sight that almost took away my breath. Spread out before me on a level plain, there lay a large black patch, which looked as though it must be earth; and on the farther side, just where the berg began to slope towards the sea, I thought that I saw something that looked like a building! Could it be that the island was inhabited? Running, sliding, slipping down, as fast as I could go, in a short time I found that I was not mistaken in supposing that it was earth: for there lay, stretched out before me, an acre or so of ground, almost as smooth and level as a garden; and, at the farther end of the plot, there stood,—not an ordinary house, not a barn, not an Esquimaux hut, not a country store, not a railroad depot, not a meeting-house,—but, what do you imagine? I will tell you as soon as I get there. Rushing like mad across the ground,—oh, how pleasant it was to feel the soft soil under my cold feet!—I came to what looked like a dismasted ship, embedded clear up to the gunwale[3] in the ice. There lay the whole deck of a three-masted vessel, unbroken and undisturbed; but, as I soon ascertained, there was no hull underneath, for the deck had evidently been broken off from the lower parts of the ship, and thrown up the smooth, inclined plane of ice to the spot where I found it, and then been frozen in there. What a discovery this was! I did not know how to contain or how to express my delight; and, before beginning to explore the premises, the very first thing that I did was to rush up to the bell, that hung near the bows, and ring it with all my might. You can't tell how strange it sounded, up there in that solitary, silent, arctic sea, to hear the loud clang of the old bell sounding out over the waters, as I tugged and tugged away at the rope. It would have done the hearts of "Hooper & Son, Boston, Mass.,"—whose name I saw printed on it,—it would have done the whole firm good, to have heard it. After I had ceased ringing, and slowly tolled the bell for a few minutes, so that I might make it seem as if I were going to meeting in Roxbury, I sat down on the capstan to think matters over. Nothing had happened yet that excited me like this. Jumping through the earth, and then getting stuck in the centre; being blown through the axis, and lighting on an iceberg at the north pole, and all that sort of thing,—I looked back upon rather as a matter of course. But to find myself sitting here on the deck of a three-master, with the cabins and offices at the stern all in good order, and the caboose-house in the centre, with the little funnel sticking out of the top, and a big boat close by it, covered with canvas, and a huge anchor at the bows, and spare rigging and spare masts lying all along the sides, and a real bell to ring,—this was a little too much, even for John Whopper.

What was I to find in the cabins, and the offices, and the pantries, and the caboose-house? The caboose-house reminded me that I was getting hungry, and that it was near dinner-time. I had expected to make my meal of dry crackers and cold bear-meat; but it occurred to me, that, on such an occasion as the present, a luxurious repast would be more appropriate, as well as more agreeable, and that very possibly I might find in the caboose-house the materials for gratifying my appetite. I did not as yet feel quite prepared to visit the cabins at the stern, for I knew that I must become very much excited at what would be found there, and a good dinner would serve to strengthen my nerves, and set me up. I went, therefore, at once to the caboose, and slid back the door, which required considerable effort; and, sure enough, there was every thing at hand that I expected, and a great deal more. The accident which lifted the deck from the hull of the ship must have happened about the middle of the forenoon; for there was the fire all ready to be lighted in the cooking-stove,—shavings, kindlings, and coal in place; and there lay the cooking utensils quite convenient. This was not all; the materials for the dinner had been brought up,—a great deal more than I could consume in a week. Immediately I took a match from my pocket,—there was a box of matches hanging on the wall, but I did not feel sure that they would be in working order,—and lighted the fire. The next thing that I did was to go and select a lump of clean, clear ice, to be melted in the kettle, that I might be ready to wash up my dishes properly after dinner. I tell you that I gave a big shout when I saw the smoke curling out of the funnel. I now proceeded, very deliberately, to select from the cans and bottles and jars, that were piled up in the corner, the various items of which I would make my dinner. The first thing that I settled upon was a dish of "Parker's ox-tail soup," which I remembered to have eaten some time ago at the house of a benevolent gentleman in Washington Street, when he gave the newsboys a lunch. My second course should consist of a potted partridge, with tomato sauce, desiccated turnips (I didn't know what desiccated meant, but I took it for granted that it was all right), and one or two of Lewis's pickles. I would then close with part of a jar of preserved peaches. I did not need to do much cooking in getting up this dinner; but I had hot soup, hot tomatoes, and warm turnips, which got a little smoked, and didn't taste very good,—perhaps, however, that was because it was desiccated. I enjoyed the dinner tremendously; and after it was over, and my dishes were all washed and put away, my eye lighted upon a box, half full of cigars, on the shelf. My first thought was, "Now I will have a cigar, as the gentlemen do that you see at the steps of the Tremont House in the afternoon, and that will make it seem more like home." But, upon second thought, it occurred to me that this would probably make me so sick for the remainder of the day, that I should be unable to do any thing, and that I couldn't spare the time. So I decided not to smoke until I had leisure enough to be ill for a while.

And now, with a throbbing heart, I turned my steps towards the cabin-door, and entered the gangway. There were two or three doors on the sides of the narrow passage, which I did not care to open at present; and so I passed on to the central door that led into the main room. I had feared that I might be startled by the sight of dead bodies or skeletons here; but there was nothing repulsive to be seen, nothing that looked like disorder or confusion. There stood the centre-table, with a few books and pamphlets lying on it, and two or three chairs drawn around, and a large lamp suspended above. There was the grate, containing a few half-consumed embers; there was the compass, swinging between the stern-windows. A nice Brussels carpet was under my feet; and there were three doors on either side of the cabin, opening into the staterooms. The vessel appeared to have been a first-class merchantman, fitted to carry half a dozen passengers; and how such a vessel as this ever found its way into these northern seas was a mystery. I just glanced for a moment into these rooms, and saw there trunks and valises, and all the usual articles of the toilet, mirrors, beds, and bedding, and all other things expected in a respectable apartment. Then I visited the captain's room and the mate's; the pantry, store-room, etc.; and all the supplies and utensils seemed to be abundant and of the best quality. I tried to find the log-book, but that was missing; and from this I inferred that the captain had made his escape in safety, taking it with him. This thought gave me pleasure.

No danger now of my suffering for want of the comforts or luxuries of life; I could dress elegantly, sleep magnificently, and fare sumptuously. I selected the captain's room for my private apartment; and having no luggage to transport, it required but little time for me to take possession.

The sun had now sunk as near the horizon as it ever did in that region during the month of July, and what we called evening at home drew near. I prepared my cup of tea in the cabin, and spread my supper on the centre-table; then went out to take a little stroll on the deck. I closed the door of the caboose-house, and, for the sake of appearances, fastened it; then went up to the bell, and struck the hour, just to gratify a sentimental feeling that I had. Then I retired to the cabin for the night; and in order to make it seem snug and cosey, I dropped the curtains over the windows, and lighted the hanging lamp. Kindling a fire in the grate, I sat down at the table and tried to read. But situated as I was, I found it impossible to fix my mind upon the book; and so I threw myself down upon the lounge to think over what had happened, and speculate as to the probabilities of the future. It may seem strange to some persons; but, with all my comforts about me, I felt more homesick than I did when I was lying on the ice in my bearskin, or when I was poking about in the bowels of the earth, trying to see how I could get out. There was nothing to occupy my body; and that, I suppose, was one reason why my mind worked as it did. At about ten o'clock, I went to bed, and, after tossing about uneasily for an hour or two, managed to fall asleep.

When I awoke in the morning, it took me some time to remember where I was. I thought, at first, that I was at home, and could hear the birds singing by the window; and I believe that I called out "Bob!" once or twice before I was fairly roused. But soon the real state of the case came back to me; and, going into the staterooms, I hunted round until I found a suit of good clean clothes that would fit me, and dressed myself for the day. The clothes that I had worn were now so dirty and torn that I was very glad to get rid of them. After breakfasting heartily,—and an excellent cup of hot coffee I had that morning,—I began to think what I should do with myself during the day. I had no longer to go tramping about in search of food; and so I thought that I would take a little stroll over my farm,—as I called the acre of loam that lay by the side of my abode,—and see how the crops were looking. I must confess that the vegetation was not much advanced; and yet I could see, here and there, little green shoots springing out of the earth, indicating that the summer sun was beginning to have its effect upon the soil. It then occurred to me how pleasant it would be to look out upon a greensward in that icy spot; and remembering to have seen in the store-room a canvas bag marked "grass-seed," and a rake standing there, I went for them, and passed the forenoon in agricultural pursuits. In a few hours, I had quite a patch of ground nicely raked over, and sown for grass. In less than a fortnight, it had sprouted beautifully, and I began to be quite proud of my arctic lawn.

All the time, however, I was wondering how I should find my way back to the abodes of man, and how soon I might expect to start for home. I had presumed, that, as the season advanced, I should begin to drift southward; and I hoped, that, before the winter closed in again, I might reach those parts of the sea which are frequented by vessels, and so find rescue. But whether I was moving or not, it was impossible as yet to tell, as there was no fixed object in sight by which a movement could be measured. I felt very certain that the iceberg was not grounded, because there would be, occasionally, a quivering of the whole mass, which showed that it was floating on the water. It was also growing warmer and warmer every day, which was a favorable symptom. If I had known how to use the sextant or quadrant, I could have settled the matter at once.

Before long, I was satisfied, from the change in the appearance of the ocean and of the sun, that I was indeed moving rapidly away from the north pole; and the fact that I was afloat was settled conclusively by a very alarming circumstance. I had observed for a day or two, that the hanging-lamp did not appear to be entirely perpendicular; and, in walking the deck, I had the sensation that I was not treading on a perfectly level surface. Searching the mate's room, I found a spirit-level, and laid it on the floor. There was no doubt of the fact: the berg was undoubtedly tilting on one side. I then remembered, that, not unfrequently, these mountains of ice rolled over, and made a complete somerset. This was now, sooner or later, going to happen. What could I do? I found that the ice, on the side that was beginning to incline towards the sea, was much higher than elsewhere, and that this superior weight was gradually destroying the equilibrium of the berg. I also observed, that, between this elevation and the more level region, there was a narrow, deep fissure, extending almost entirely across the line of the lofty projection of ice.

A great thought now flashed upon me. I remembered to have seen on the deck, the day after my arrival, two or three casks, labelled "Dangerous! Handle very carefully!! Nitro-glycerine!!!" These casks I at once removed to a safe distance, marking with an upright stick the place where they were deposited. Nitro-glycerine!—I said to myself. It was that that blew up the "The European" at Panama. I remember it because I sold three hundred and nine papers by crying "Great Explosion." A newsboy knows something. And nitro-glycerine will go off if you hit it hard enough.

In the captain's room, there were several large, metallic flasks, made very broad and flat, as I suppose for the purpose of better stowage in his room. What they had formerly contained, I could only judge by the smell; but they were empty now. This, then, was the experiment that I would try,—filling these flasks with nitro-glycerine, I would lower them into a crevice in the ice. Then, if I could, I must make a block of ice fall on them.