“‘I will,’ said I, and I did. I shipped on board a Greenland whaler, the Blazylight, and sailed the next day for the North Pole. We had a fine run to our fishing ground, and soon began to kill our whales at a great rate. It was the sort of sport which just suited me. I never could stand angling for minnows; but whale-fishing is a very different sort of work, I guess.
“We had got a full ship, and were thinking of turning south, when we were becalmed near the land, and as the ship could not move, I, with four or five more, started on an expedition to shoot polar bears, which were pretty common thereabouts. We had got a good way from the ship, when a thick fog—not an unfrequent visitor to those parts—came on. I had a pocket-compass with me, and so I wasn’t a bit alarmed. However, when we tried to find the old Blazylight again, I must confess we could not. We wandered about till all my companions died from sheer fright and fatigue; and I should have died, too, if I had given in; but I wouldn’t do that; so I collected all my shipmates’ ammunition, and set to work to kill and pot bears. I lived like a prince, as far as quantity was concerned, but I got rather tired of bear’s flesh at last. I rubbed myself over with the grease, and was soon covered from head to foot with a hide of the finest wool, so that I didn’t feel the cold a bit. It was cold, however, at times, with a vengeance. Frequently the frost was so severe, that it froze up even the very air, and if I had not melted it every now and then, by firing off my gun, I should have died for want of breath; and often it wasn’t possible to move without cutting a way for myself through the atmosphere with my axe. I suspected, as I afterwards found to be the case, that what we had taken, to be land, was in reality an unusually large field of ice, with icebergs imbedded in it, and that we had been carried by some unknown current imperceptibly towards the north for a considerable distance. Now, when we had left the ship, we had kept to the westward. When we wished to return, we had steered east by the pocket-compass I told you of. On, and on, and on, I kept on the same course. What do you think I was doing? Why I was walking round and round the North Pole, and should have kept on walking till now, for nothing would have made me give in—I promise you that wasn’t my way—had I not come upon the print of my own footsteps in the snow. This made me aware of my error; so I sat down to consider how it could have happened, and at last the truth flashed on my mind. You see it was a very natural mistake I had made, for the needle of my compass was all the time pointing to the North Pole, just as a capstan-bar does to the capstan, while I was running round at the other end of it. I was rather puzzled to know what to do, for had I walked south, not having the means of ascertaining my longitude, I might, I thought, find myself on the other side of the globe, somewhere, perhaps near Behring’s Straits, leading into the Sea of Kamtschatka, where there would be little chance of my falling in with a ship.
“I had sat cogitating for some time, and was beginning to get rather chilly, when it occurred to me that I might render a great service to science, by going chock up to the North Pole, and ascertaining of what it is composed. I instantly rose from my seat, put my compass down to strike the course I was to take, fired off my gun to clear myself a path through the frozen atmosphere, secured my stock of bear’s flesh on my back for provisions, and manfully set forward, with my face away from all human beings.”
“But how could you see, Mr Johnson?” asked Grey. “I always thought it was dark in those regions during winter!”
“See! why perfectly well,” answered the boatswain promptly. “If the stars and moon happened not to be shining, there was always the aurora borealis blazing up, like a great fire, right ahead of me. You have seen the northern lights on a winter’s night, but they are a very different affair up there to what they appear so far south. If it wasn’t for them, in my opinion, there would be no living in those regions, but by their warmth they keep the atmosphere round them in a very pleasant state. Well, on I walked, sleeping at night in the huts I made in the snow, leaving a small hole open to breathe through; and it was not disagreeably cold, owing to the warm whiffs which came every now and then from the Pole.
“After progressing thus for several days, I observed an extraordinary phenomenon. Whenever I took my compass out in my hand, I felt that the instrument had a tendency to move directly before me. This tendency increased gradually as I proceeded, till, one morning, when I put it down as usual to mark my course before starting, to my infinite surprise, and I may say dismay, away it glided over the snow, increasing in rapidity of motion as it proceeded.
“Horrified at the reflection of what might be the consequence should I lose it, I rushed forward, and, in my eagerness to grasp my treasure, fell prostrate on my face, just, happily, as my fingers clutched it.
“This wonderful occurrence (for I own that it did surprise even me, and I could not have believed it had another man told it me) brought me to a stand-still, and compelled me to form a new plan for my future proceedings. I was unwilling to give up the enterprise, though I saw the full risk I was running; but dangers never daunted me,—I should think not,—and I determined at every hazard to proceed. I accordingly retraced my steps a day’s journey, when I found the attractive powers of the Pole of less force; and then erecting a lofty pyramid of snow, I placed my compass on the summit, and carefully covered it. On the top of all I fastened a red pocket-handkerchief, secured to a walking-stick, in order to make the object still more conspicuous. Having performed this work, I lay down in a snow hut to rest, and the next morning again set forward towards the Pole.”
The boatswain stopped to clear his throat.
“That is very interesting, Mr Johnson,” said Grey. “Do go on.”