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VI. The Waiting Place.
"HOW did
you manage with the rest of that rough voyage on the Minerva?" I asked. "I shall
be glad to explain to you," said Captain Littlepage, forgetting his
grievances for the moment. "If I had a map at hand I could explain better.
We were driven to and fro 'way up toward what we used to call Parry's
Discoveries, and lost our bearings. It was thick and foggy, and at last I lost
my ship; she drove on a rock, and we managed to get ashore on what I took to be
a barren island, the few of us that were left alive. When she first struck, the
sea was somewhat calmer than it had been, and most of the crew, against orders,
manned the long-boat and put off in a hurry, and were never heard of more. Our
own boat upset, but the carpenter kept himself and me above water, and we
drifted in. I had no strength to call upon after my recent fever, and laid down
to die; but he found the tracks of a man and dog the second day, and got along
the shore to one of those far missionary stations that the Moravians support.
They were very poor themselves, and in distress; 'twas a useless place. There
were but few Esquimaux left in that region. There we remained for some time,
and I became acquainted with strange events." The captain
lifted his head and gave me a questioning glance. I could not help noticing
that the dulled look in his eyes had gone, and there was instead a clear
intentness that made them seem dark and piercing. "There
was a supply ship expected, and the pastor, an excellent Christian man, made no
doubt that we should get passage in her. He was hoping that orders would come
to break up the station; but everything was uncertain, and we got on the best
we could for a while. We fished, and helped the people in other ways; there was
no other way of paying our debts. I was taken to the pastor's house until I got
better; but they were crowded, and I felt myself in the way, and made excuse to
join with an old seaman, a Scotchman, who had built him a warm cabin, and had
room in it for another. He was looked upon with regard, and had stood by the
pastor in some troubles with the people. He had been on one of those English
exploring parties that found one end of the road to the north pole, but never
could find the other. We lived like dogs in a kennel, or so you'd thought if
you had seen the hut from the outside; but the main thing was to keep warm;
there were piles of bird-skins to lie on, and he'd made him a good bunk, and
there was another for me. 'Twas dreadful dreary waitin' there; we begun to
think the supply steamer was lost, and my poor ship broke up and strewed
herself all along the shore. We got to watching on the headlands; my men and me
knew the people were short of supplies and had to pinch themselves. It ought to
read in the Bible, 'Man cannot live by fish alone,' if they'd told the truth of
things; 'taint bread that wears the worst on you! First part of the time, old
Gaffett, that I lived with, seemed speechless, and I didn't know what to make
of him, nor he of me, I dare say; but as we got acquainted, I found he'd been
through more disasters than I had, and had troubles that wa'n't going to let
him live a great while. It used to ease his mind to talk to an understanding
person, so we used to sit and talk together all day, if it rained or blew so
that we couldn't get out. I'd got a bad blow on the back of my head at the time
we came ashore, and it pained me at times, and my strength was broken, anyway;
I've never been so able since." Captain
Littlepage fell into a reverie. "Then I
had the good of my reading," he explained presently. "I had no books;
the pastor spoke but little English, and all his books were foreign; but I used
to say over all I could remember. The old poets little knew what comfort they
could be to a man. I was well acquainted with the works of Milton, but up there
it did seem to me as if Shakespeare was the king; he has his sea terms very
accurate, and some beautiful passages were calming to the mind. I could say
them over until I shed tears; there was nothing beautiful to me in that place
but the stars above and those passages of verse. "Gaffett
was always brooding and brooding, and talking to himself; he was afraid he
should never get away, and it preyed upon his mind. He thought when I got home
I could interest the scientific men in his discovery: but they're all taken up
with their own notions; some didn't even take pains to answer the letters I
wrote. You observe that I said this crippled man Gaffett had been shipped on a
voyage of discovery. I now tell you that the ship was lost on its return, and
only Gaffett and two officers were saved off the Greenland coast, and he had
knowledge later that those men never got back to England; the brig they shipped
on was run down in the night. So no other living soul had the facts, and he
gave them to me. There is a strange sort of a country 'way up north beyond the
ice, and strange folks living in it. Gaffett believed it was the next world to
this." "What do
you mean, Captain Littlepage?" I exclaimed. The old man was bending
forward and whispering; he looked over his shoulder before he spoke the last
sentence. "To hear
old Gaffett tell about it was something awful," he said, going on with his
story quite steadily after the moment of excitement had passed. "'Twas
first a tale of dogs and sledges, and cold and wind and snow. Then they begun
to find the ice grow rotten; they had been frozen in, and got into a current
flowing north, far up beyond Fox Channel, and they took to their boats when the
ship got crushed, and this warm current took them out of sight of the ice, and
into a great open sea; and they still followed it due north, just the very way
they had planned to go. Then they struck a coast that wasn't laid down or
charted, but the cliffs were such that no boat could land until they found a
bay and struck across under sail to the other side where the shore looked
lower; they were scant of provisions and out of water, but they got sight of
something that looked like a great town. 'For God's sake, Gaffett!' said I, the
first time he told me. 'You don't mean a town two degrees farther north than
ships had ever been?' for he'd got their course marked on an old chart that
he'd pieced out at the top; but he insisted upon it, and told it over and over
again, to be sure I had it straight to carry to those who would be interested.
There was no snow and ice, he said, after they had sailed some days with that
warm current, which seemed to come right from under the ice that they'd been
pinched up in and had been crossing on foot for weeks." "But
what about the town?" I asked. "Did they get to the town?" "They
did," said the captain, "and found inhabitants; 'twas an awful
condition of things. It appeared, as near as Gaffett could express it, like a
place where there was neither living nor dead. They could see the place when
they were approaching it by sea pretty near like any town, and thick with habitations;
but all at once they lost sight of it altogether, and when they got close
inshore they could see the shapes of folks, but they never could get near them,
— all blowing gray figures that would pass along alone, or sometimes gathered
in companies as if they were watching. The men were frightened at first, but
the shapes never came near them, — it was as if they blew back; and at last
they all got bold and went ashore, and found birds' eggs and sea fowl, like any
wild northern spot where creatures were tame and folks had never been, and
there was good water. Gaffett said that he and another man came near one o' the
fog-shaped men that was going along slow with the look of a pack on his back,
among the rocks, an' they chased him; but, Lord! he flittered away out o' sight
like a leaf the wind takes with it, or a piece of cobweb. They would make as if
they talked together, but there was no sound of voices, and 'they acted as if
they didn't see us, but only felt us coming towards them,' says Gaffett one
day, trying to tell the particulars. They couldn't see the town when they were
ashore. One day the captain and the doctor were gone till night up across the
high land where the town had seemed to be, and they came back at night beat out
and white as ashes, and wrote and wrote all next day in their notebooks, and
whispered together full of excitement, and they were sharp-spoken with the men
when they offered to ask any questions. "Then
there came a day," said Captain Littlepage, leaning toward me with a
strange look in his eyes, and whispering quickly. "The men all swore they
wouldn't stay any longer; the man on watch early in the morning gave the alarm,
and they all put off in the boat and got a little way out to sea. Those folks,
or whatever they were, come about 'em like bats; all at once they raised
incessant armies, and come as if to drive 'em back to sea. They stood thick at
the edge o' the water like the ridges o' grim war; no thought o' flight, none
of retreat. Sometimes a standing fight, then soaring on main wing tormented all
the air. And when they'd got the boat out o' reach o' danger, Gaffett said they
looked back, and there was the town again, standing up just as they'd seen it
first, comin' on the coast. Say what you might, they all believed 'twas a kind
of waiting-place between this world an' the next." The captain
had sprung to his feet in his excitement, and made excited gestures, but he
still whispered huskily. "Sit
down, sir," I said as quietly as I could, and he sank into his chair quite
spent. "Gaffett
thought the officers were hurrying home to report and to fit out a new
expedition when they were all lost. At the time, the men got orders not to talk
over what they had seen," the old man explained presently in a more
natural tone. "Weren't
they all starving, and wasn't it a mirage or something of that sort?" I
ventured to ask. But he looked at me blankly. "Gaffett
had got so that his mind ran on nothing else," he went on. "The
ship's surgeon let fall an opinion to the captain, one day, that 'twas some
condition o' the light and the magnetic currents that let them see those folks.
'Twa'n't a right-feeling part of the world, anyway; they had to battle with the
compass to make it serve, an' everything seemed to go wrong. Gaffett had worked
it out in his own mind that they was all common ghosts, but the conditions were
unusual favorable for seeing them. He was always talking about the Ge'graphical
Society, but he never took proper steps, as I viewed it now, and stayed right
there at the mission. He was a good deal crippled, and thought they'd confine
him in some jail of a hospital. He said he was waiting to find the right men to
tell, somebody bound north. Once in a while they stopped there to leave a mail
or something. He was set in his notions, and let two or three proper explorin'
expeditions go by him because he didn't like their looks; but when I was there
he had got restless, fearin' he might be taken away or something. He had all
his directions written out straight as a string to give the right ones. I
wanted him to trust 'em to me, so I might have something to show, but he
wouldn't. I suppose he's dead now. I wrote to him an' I done all I could.
'Twill be a great exploit some o' these days." I assented absent-mindedly, thinking more just then of my companion's alert, determined look and the seafaring, ready aspect that had come to his face; but at this moment there fell a sudden change, and the old, pathetic, scholarly look returned. Behind me hung a map of North America, and I saw, as I turned a little, that his eyes were fixed upon the northernmost regions and their careful recent outlines with a look of bewilderment. |