The Frozen Crew Of The Ice-Bound Ship; Or, Terrors Of The Arctic Region — page 71: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE FROZEN CREW AND ICE-BOUND SHIP. to admit a man’s body, and gave him unmistakeable signs that a passage was in Close proximity. Speeding through the chasm, he in a few minutes came into light, and an enclosure of ice. This enclosure was surrounded on every side by steep frozen rocks, too steep and slippery to climb, and appeared to leave Nick as much as ever a prisoner in their valley. There was a small opening at the top of an emi- nence—which appeared to have formed at one time the only entrance to this ice-cave—but it was at such a height from him that it would have been impossible to reach it without the means of a ladder. “What’s to be done?” cried Nick, to himself. ““Tf we remain here, we shall be starved to death, or the piratical swabs will return to murder us in cool blood; this place is evidently known to our enemies, and the crew of the El Malachor, for there are spars and ropes that belong to the vessel, and apparently deposited in this devil’s hole for safety.” The seaman spoke truly; for on examining the place his quick eye nad detected some ship-timber, piled up for use, and placed against one projection in it. What was his surprise, and we may say delight, to find a coil of rope with the debris, or heap. A means of escape at once presented itself to the fertile imagination of Brandy-nosed Nick. ‘“Yes,’? he shrieked out with joy, ‘‘ by tying a piece of timber in midships I may succeed in throw- ing it across the gaugway, and, shiver my timbers, here goes,” The seaman stopped and drew back. “Hang me,” he cried, “if I wasn’t going to for- get my messmate. I can’t leave him in the bilboes.”’ Nick, quick as the thought, returned to Gonzalvi, and in a few minutes led him to the ice-cave he had discovered. The youth, with a worn aspect, looked sadly around him, and wondered to find himself alive and fetter- less. ““ What place is this?” he said faintly. ‘“ Wehave, it is true, once more the blessing of light, but seem as great prisoners here, as ever.” “ Belay—belay !” replied the seaman, ‘‘ you ain’t a going to sink I hope, with a cargo on board, though certainly this knocking about, and sparing of grog don’t make a man stronger.”’ “ That terrible woman, too—— ) ‘“ Oh, don’t mention that craft, with the devil for a figure-~head,” interrupted Nick, “we shall soon be out of her clutches, if we haave a head.”’ “ My injured hand is very painful.” ‘My eyes! what a lubber I am,” continued the previous speaker. “I forgot all about that; let’s see if I can’t serve as surgeon’s mate.” Rough as an unlicked cub, but willing as a brother, the hardy seaman went to a spring, and essayed to wash and bind the wound Gonzalvi had received from Corah’s dagger. He smiled to find it was neither deep nor mortal. “A day or two will soon put all things ship- shape,” he muttered. Having finished his duties with regard to the invalid, Nick next considered how he must further save him, by effecting an escape from the ice-girt dungeon. Selecting from the pile of ship-timber a piece that had formed a bowsprit, he passed the noose-end of arope over it. This the seaman made fast, and succeeded, after several efforts, in flinging it into the opening above his head. The wood, falling across this opening, allowed Nick the option of mounting to it by a band-over- 39 61 hand movement, frequently practised by sailors in climbing the rigging of their ships, or mountaineers ascending the Hebrides or Shetland Islands. While ascending thus, with Gonzalvi thrown across his shoulders, the noble mariner experienced a maddening feeling of excitement, such as the choicest juices of the vine would fail to give. The world has few grander sensations than when a man is perched in mid-air, between a high-browed cliff and the sterile land. The rope by which he is sustained seems scarce stronger than a silken thread. The jutting prominence on which his step is steadied, affords such breadth as the kittiwake or sea gull might rest upon. He feels—he knows all this, with the full confi- dence that his own agility of limb and strength of head cap bring him safe off, as if he had the wing of the goss-hawk. This, indeed, is being independent of the earth he treads on. | ‘ Many hours had elapsed since Brandy-nosed Nick had departed from home on his hunting expe- dition. This was a cause of cosiderable suspense and anxiety to Paul Jones. He had searched for his companion far and near, and at every point without success. He had climbed the iceberg, crossed the frozen dell, and entered the snow-covered cave, but could find no trace of the object of his quest. He must either have been attacked by the raven- ous brutes of the region, or carried away by some heavy floe-piece of ice; so argued Paul Jones, as he returned to his solitary dwelling. Somewhat late at night he was seated by a brisk fire in the hut; a scanty meal had been discussed, and everything prepared for sleeping. Paul Jones ordinarily retired at an earlier hour, but he cared not, under present circumstances, to seek his couch, since he found no rest within it. Musing for some time, he at length buried his face in his hands, as if suddenly lost in some still more gloomy thought. After a long pause, the thinker roused himself, as if by an effort, and for a moment gazed vacantly round the apartment. ‘¢T am alone now,’’? he muttered ; “ destined to perish in the silent frost, and lay beneath the rigid sheet of snow, unknown and unlamented. “ Yet,” he continued, “I will not let my spirit sink; hope shall buoy me up—relief will some day surely come.” Restlessness and impatience again assailed Paul Jones, as he paced to and fro communing with himself. “J cannot bear this state of supense longer,” he cried, in a paroxysm of despair. ‘JI may as well seek destruction in the all-congealing air and freez- ing tempest, as die by inches of famine in this poor shelter.’’ Here, knocking and shouts were very audible between every swell of the horrible blast which was careering without. Paul Jones opened the door with a feeling of perplexity and fear, which was soon overcome by the appearance of Brandy-nosed nick. ‘‘ Arrived safe in port, at last, captain,’ said the intruder; “thought I was never coming back again, I.suppose? Egad! I have bad a narrow squeak of it, though.” i Acknowledging Paul Jones’ hearty welcome, he continued— “You are letting the fire out, too, and my teeth Cconmmiclbooao <S (©)