Archibald Hughson: An Arctic Story

by William Henry Giles Kingston

Month after month passed by; though suffering from hunger, and intense cold from want of fuel, the crew held out. The ice began to move much earlier in the year than had been expected. A strong gale sprung up from the northward—huge masses of ice rose and fell around the ship—now as they crashed away, an open channel appeared ahead. Sail was set, though not without difficulty, as few were able to go aloft. The water, too, as the ship began to move, rushed in through many a leak, and the pumps were set to work. Now it seemed as if she was again about to be imprisoned—then once more the ice broke away, and she continued her course. But of her whole crew, scarcely six were fitted for work. Many were sick in bed, unable to move; others could just crawl to the pumps, and work them with their feeble arms. The brave doctor, who had retained his strength, exerted himself to the utmost—now standing at the helm, now assisting in making sail, now taking a turn at the pumps, in addition to his duties among the sick. Archy, who had also retained his strength, felt no little satisfaction on finding that he was of as much use as his older shipmates.

At length the ship was free; but alas, many of the poor fellows who had hitherto held out, sank quickly under the fatal disease from which they had long been suffering. One by one they sank, till ten had died besides the captain.

The voyage home was almost as trying as their detention in the ice. Scarcely a drop of water remained, their stock of provisions was well nigh exhausted, every particle of fuel had been consumed, while their numbers were daily diminishing, their strength decreasing, and the water gaining on the pumps. Still they struggled, like brave men, to the last.

“Surely we cannot be far off the land?” said Andrew, one morning to Archy.

“I’ll go aloft and have a look out,” answered Archy; and he made his way to the mast-head.

His heart bounded as he caught sight, in the far distance, of blue hills rising out of the tossing waters. The welcome cry he uttered brought on deck all who had strength sufficient to crawl out of their berths. The ship was steered in the direction towards which Archy pointed, the breeze was favourable, and in a short time the well-known headlands and points of Unst, the most northern isle of Shetland, appeared in sight. Before evening the anchor was dropped in one of the deep voes which run up far inland all round the coast. The inhabitants of the village, on its shores, gazed with astonishment at the battered vessel, and the way in which the sails, which the crew had not strength to furl, fluttered from the yards. In a short time a number of boats, with friendly visitors, were on board, and the news was sent to Lerwick that the long missing “Kate” had returned. Archy sent a few lines to his mother; he signed his note, “from your repentant son,” but he trembled lest she to whom it was addressed might no longer be alive to receive it. A portion of the crew, able to bear the journey were the next day sent on overland; the brave surgeon, however, refused to quit the sick and dying.

“I will stay and help you, sir,” said old Andrew. “God has preserved my strength, and it is my duty to employ it in tending to my suffering fellow creatures; and though there are many at home ready to welcome me, the welcome will come more warmly to my heart when I feel that I have not left undone what I ought to have done.”

“And may I likewise stay?” said Archy. “What Andrew thinks is right is my duty also.”

Not till the sick had recovered sufficiently to be taken on shore did Andrew and Archy set out on their journey to the south. As they were starting a letter was put into Archy’s hands. He eagerly read it. It was from his mother. Although his transgression had caused her unspeakable sorrow, she had never ceased to pray that God would protect him amid the dangers he would encounter, and that his heart might be changed and a new spirit put within him.

“You are welcome back, my boy. God alone can forgive sin, and if you have sought forgiveness in His appointed way, sure I am that it has not been refused.” This letter cheered Archy on his homeward journey, and when at length he found himself in his mother’s arms, and Maggie hanging round his neck, he wondered how he could have been so hard-hearted as to quit them; and he promised that he would henceforth remain at home to assist and support them. He felt, indeed, that he could never make amends for the suffering and anxiety he had caused his mother, to which he acknowledged that the hardships he had endured were in comparison nothing.