Archibald Hughson: An Arctic Story

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Chapter Seven.

Mutiny! Most of the crew carrying the greater part of the provisions, set off without the others.—Proposals for pursuit, but not carried out, and at last the remainder commence their journey across the ice, meeting with great difficulties.—The captain becomes ill, but is cheered by Andrew.—He at length dies, after Andrew has placed before him the truth, which he accepts.—He is buried in a snow tomb.

Archy was awakened by hearing one of the officers, who had gone out of the tent, exclaim, “Why, what have become of the boats?” The rest of the inmates of the tents were quickly on foot. They looked around. Far away in the distance two dark spots could be seen on the ice. Andrew and several others ran to the tent of the mutineers—it was empty. The fire had burnt a hole in the ice and disappeared. Had it not been for those objects far off they might have supposed that the sleepers had gone in with it and been drowned. The provisions were next examined—the packages prepared for travelling had greatly diminished. Several, indignant at being thus deserted, proposed setting off in pursuit of the fugitives.

“They have fire-arms with them, and you will not get them to come back, lads,” said the captain, who had come out of his tent.

In spite of his warnings, and the advice of Andrew, who urged that it was better to let them go, a number of men, and two of the officers, started away, vowing that they would bring back the mutineers, and punish them for their treachery.

At first, the party thus deserted seemed inclined to give way to despair, and Archy more than ever regretted that he had not warned his friends of the intended treachery.

“Come along, lads, to the wreck,” exclaimed Andrew. “Perhaps we may find another boat, which we may be able to repair, and some more provisions to replace those carried off.”

Thus appealed to, the carpenter, with several men, set off with Andrew to the wreck, Archy accompanying his friend. After climbing over a number of huge masses of ice, they made their way to the opposite floe, which was now firmly united to the one it had struck. Here they found a quantity of the wreck scattered about, as well as several casks of meat and biscuits, and wedged between two slabs, the smallest boat, which had hung at the stern. The carpenter, on examining her, expressed his hopes that by fastening canvas round her, he could make her float sufficiently to enable them to pass from one floe to another, should they meet any open channels in their course. This discovery raised their spirits. The party immediately hastened back to their companions with the news. It was agreed that they should at once move across to the floe, with the tents and provisions, and forming a new encampment, go on with the work of preparing the sledges. Frequently as they went backwards and forwards, they looked out for the return of the party who had gone in pursuit of the mutineers. The latter had got far out of sight before they could have been overtaken. What had become of the pursuers no one could say. Some supposed that the two parties had united and gone on together, while others fancied that they had fought, and that those who had been defeated had been left alone on the ice, while the victors had pushed on with the boats.

The whole day was occupied in moving to the new encampment, and it was nearly dark before their tents were erected and other preparations made for passing the night. The wind had latterly increased greatly, and clouds had been collecting to the north. Scarcely had they got under shelter when the snow began to fall heavily, and the sharp wind swept across the icy plain with terrific force.

“Archy, we may be thankful that we are not with those poor fellows who deserted us,” observed Andrew as they sat together round the fire in their tent. “It will be a mercy if any of them escape even if they reached the open water before nightfall, and it’s my opinion that they will not have done that.”