Home > Authors Index > William H. G. Kingston > Archibald Hughson > This page
Archibald Hughson, a fiction by William H. G. Kingston |
||
Chapter 9 |
||
| < Previous |
Table of content |
Next > |
|
________________________________________________
_ CHAPTER NINE
Four human beings with heavy packs on their backs were making their toilsome way over the snow-covered surface of the frozen sea. One by one their companions had dropped. They had reached the wished for shore, but lofty ice-cliffs rose before them on which they had found it hopeless to seek for shelter of subsistence, and again they were attempting to make their way to the southward. First the boat which they had dragged over so many leagues had been consumed for fuel, and then the sledge was piece by piece burned to give them warmth in their snow-hut during the night. Archy had held out bravely; Andrew had wonderfully been supported, ever with confidence seeking for aid from above, he felt that his own life and that of his companions depended on his exertions. Foubister and David Saunders, one of the crew of the "Kate," encouraged by him had hitherto kept up their spirits, yet as they looked ahead and saw the icy plain stretched out before them they might well have given way to despair. They had just set out from the snow-hut which had sheltered them during the night, and in which the last chip of the sledge had been consumed. As the embers of their fire died out, Foubister, brave and determined man as he was, had exclaimed, "Why need we go further? It will only be to perish in a few hours of cold, as the rest have done." "Because it is our duty to trust to God and struggle to the last," answered Andrew. "He may send us help when we least expect it. Let us go on while life and strength remain." Kneeling down, Andrew offered up an earnest prayer for protection, and the whole party then strapping on their packs, with renewed strength set forward on their journey. Archy would probably have sunk under the hardships he was enduring had not his old friend supported and cheered him throughout. His other companions were also constant in their kindness. They gave him a larger supply of food than they took themselves, and chafed his feet and dried his socks at the end of each day's journey. They had also made him a mask to protect his face, of a piece of canvas lined with woollen stuff, having breathing places in it for the nostrils and mouth, and two holes as small as possible for the eyes. He was surprised to find when he put it on how well he could see through those small holes. Neither he nor his friends were aware at the time of their importance. They had started before daylight, for the sky was clear and the moon and stars afforded them ample light to see their way. The sun at length rose above the horizon, and cast his brilliant rays over the sheet of snow. All the three men had, on the previous day, complained of a peculiar smarting of the eyes, but little did they think at the time of what it portended. As they proceeded the smarting sensation increased, till at length David Saunders began to stumble, and exclaimed that all was dark. His words struck dismay into the hearts of his companions, for both Andrew and Foubister had for some time found a difficulty in seeing objects before them, and in a short time the latter cried out that he too was blind. It would have been certain death to stop, so, although Andrew himself was suffering intense pain, he urged his companions to proceed, hoping still that they might discover some Esquimaux' huts on the shore, or find other means of preserving their lives. "And how do your eyes feel, Archy?" asked Andrew, in a voice which showed his anxiety. "I have no pain, and can see as well as ever," answered Archy. "Thank God," replied Andrew. "You must then be our guide, for I too have lost my sight." Archy on hearing this felt ready to burst into tears. "Oh! what can I do? How can I lead you?" he exclaimed. "Trust in God and go straight on, lad. Here, take this line and we will hold on to it," he added uncoiling a short length of rope which he carried at his side, and he put the end into Archy's hands. He and Foubister and Saunders then took hold of it, following each other in line. "Now move on, Archy," said Andrew, "and keep a bright look out ahead, as well as on the right hand and on the left. If you see anything like smoke or little round hillocks near the shore, we may be certain that natives are there, or may be you will catch sight of the masts of a ship in the horizon, no fear of her getting away from us, for she will be fast frozen in." Thus cheered by the confiding faith of old Andrew and his dauntless courage, the party proceeded onwards over the ice-field, Archy's eyes alone, protected by his mask, escaping the snow-blindness. Every now and then, with anxious voices, one or the other would cry out, "Do you see anything ahead, Archy, any sign of Esquimauxs on the shore,--any vessel in the distance?" "No, I only see tall ice-cliffs on the left, and icebergs rising up here and there out of the frozen sea," he answered. Several times on hearing this Saunders declared it was useless to go on, and even Foubister once proposed building a snow-hut as well as their blindness would allow them, and then lying down within it to die. "What! and let the poor lad who has still got his eyesight perish with us?" exclaimed Andrew. "Shame on you, mate. I did not think to hear such words come from your lips. No, no, while we have life its our duty to go on, and if its God's will that we should die, let us die doing our duty. If He pleases He can send us help and restore our eyesight, and He has shown us pretty clearly that we must lean on Him and Him alone." Thus rebuked, the honest carpenter did not allow another repining word to escape him. There was but little wind, and the air felt warm and pleasant. Reaching a small iceberg they all sat down, placed by Archy on a ledge under its shelter to rest. He unpacked their wallets, and helped them to their food. By Andrew's direction, also with the carpenter's axe, he chopped off a thin layer of ice from the berg. From this, when held up in the direct rays of the sun, water dropped into their saucepan sufficiently fast to quench the thirst from which they had before been suffering. They were not aware that they might greatly have relieved the pain in their eyes by bathing them with the cold water. Revived by their meal they again proceeded as before, yet what could they expect at the end of their day's journey? Could they hope to live through the night in an ill-built snow-hut without fire, might it not too probably become their tomb? Mile after mile was passed over, and still came the same answer from Archy to their constant inquiries. Night was approaching,--Andrew urged them to push on rather than stop, as long as they had strength to move. "If you wish, I will go on," said Archy, "or, I think, with your help I could build a snow-hut and we could keep warm enough inside it without a fire, I hope." "No, no, on, on," said Andrew. "We will stop in time to build a hut before dark." So on again they went. Suddenly Andrew felt the rope by which he was led slacken, when Archy cried out, "Stop, I see something dark moving ahead." "What is it, what is it, boy?" exclaimed the three men together. "It seems to me like a seal," answered Archy. "But no--I don't think a seal would move in that way,--Hurrah! it is a man,--he has risen to his feet,--he sees us,--he is coming this way." Archy hurried on, leading his companions. The stranger advanced towards them. When he was still at some distance he stopped and seemed to be examining them, doubtful of their character. Archy raised his hands and beckoning, the stranger once more drew near. From his dress and skins and harpoon in his hand and a coil of line and spears hung to his shoulders, Archy guessed that he was an Esquimaux engaged in searching for seals. He was accompanied by two dogs, who rushed forward barking, but retreated when called by their master. The native having apparently satisfied himself that the approaching party could do him no harm, came up to them, and looked with an inquiring glance at their eyes. He at once seemed to understand that they had been struck with snow-blindness, and he made signs to Archy that he could cure them. Archy inquired where he lived, when he pointed to the south-east, and beckoning to him, led the way onwards. In a short time they reached a large seal which the hunter had apparently just killed; he pointed to it, and signified that they were welcome to eat some of its flesh. Archy intimated that they were weary rather than hungry. The Esquimaux appeared quickly to make up his mind what was best to be done. Clearing a space in the snow he called Archy to assist him, and at once began to build an igloo. He was greatly delighted when Archy produced the carpenter's saw, and apparently well accustomed to its use, he set to work to shape out the required blocks. In a short time a hut was completed, into which he dragged a considerable portion of the seal. From his capacious pocket he took a shallow bowl, in which he placed some moss wicks, and filled it with seal oil, produced by his chewing the blubber. A light was quickly struck, and the much valued lamp soon shed a genial warmth through the snow-formed habitation. A large lump of blubber hung over the lamp, continued to feed it as the oil supplied by the first process was exhausted. He now melted some snow in the seamen's saucepan, and explained to Archy that if his blind friends would bathe their eyes in the water their sight would be restored. They followed his advice, and at length the pain from which they were suffering gradually subsided. The Esquimaux seemed greatly surprised at their preferring their own dried food to the raw blubber on which he and his dogs regaled themselves. Yielding, however, to their prejudices, he heated some steaks over the lamp, of which he hospitably pressed Archy to partake. Hunger induced him to follow his new friend's advice, and finding the steaks far more palatable than he expected, he persuaded the rest of the party to join in the repast. "I don't know what it may look like," observed David Saunders, gulping down a huge lump. "But its not such bad eating after all, and I am much obliged to you, friend Esquimaux, for your kindness." "Friends," said Andrew, before they lay down to rest on their snow couches, "let us thank God for His mercy in sending this kind native to our help. Oh! 'tis a blessed thing to know that He will never desert those who trust in Him." The Esquimaux seemed fully to understand what they were about, and knelt down with them. Though they did not understand each other's language, yet their hearts were lifted up together to the same merciful Being, the God alike of the dark-skinned Esquimaux and the civilised Englishman. _ |
||