Part 13

“Now look here,” said he, addressing me; “that island to the south’ard is laid down in the chart as a mere rock, and only indicated by a big dot and the words ‘rocks of some extent.’ Now, by my glass, it looks a tidy big island, at least six or eight miles from east to west, and goodness knows how long from north to south. I can see parts of it which must rise to a height of several hundred feet, and probably the whole island would take some three or four days to travel round on the rough ice. Now what do you say to take two or three hands and go and explore it?”

“What do I say?--why jump at it with pleasure, of course; but give me a couple of days to get ready, and allow me to pick my crew.”

This was assented to, and in the three days allotted I rigged up one of the small boats on runners, loaded it with felt sleeping-bags, a tent, small stove, guns, provisions, a lamp, and many other things that might be required.

On the third day I started off with four men, who were as eager for the expedition as myself, being only too glad to undertake anything for a change from the monotonous hut life. We were granted six days to be away; if we had not returned by the end of that time a search party would be sent out to seek us. We were instructed to plant a rod with a piece of red bunting at our various halting-places, so that if necessary our steps might easily be followed.

As we started off the whole ship’s company came out to bid us farewell, and it made our hearts bound with joy and pride, when we heard their voices, with loud “hurrahs,” make the surrounding icy peaks of these Arctic solitudes echo again.

We had ten miles to scramble over the excessively rough ice which lay between our winter quarters and the island. Six or eight of our mates came half-way with us, to give us a hand in dragging our sledge-boat.

It was terrible hard work, and the first five miles took us six hours to accomplish, as the ice was in some places piled in hummocks twenty and even thirty feet high; round these we had to make a _détour_, so that our course was very meandering and uncertain.

We made a halt and refreshed, each of us having a cup of hot coffee to drink with the meal we had brought with us. We could see the “Swan’s Nest” built on the side of a hill facing south-west, and, not a couple of hundred yards away, was our vessel, the _White Swan_, frozen solidly into the ice. Her topmasts and heavy gear had been sent down and stowed on deck, which from stem to stern was covered in with a span roof of timber; so that she looked something like a long black shed, with three tall chimneys thrust through the roof.

After half-an-hour’s halt our comrades left us and returned to the “Swan’s Nest,” hoping to see us again in six days at furthest.

After a long and rough scramble we at length reached the island, and selecting a nook between two rocky cliffs, erected our tent and prepared everything to pass the night there. The rocks on three sides kept the wind off famously, what little there was, and to give some protection from any bears who might be prowling about, we drew the sledge across the narrow entrance to our nook; the stove we rigged up at the mouth of the tent. We cooked a kind of stew, had a pannikin of hot coffee each, and then, drawing sleeping-bags over our legs up to our waists, sat and played cards by lantern light till we were ready for slumber, when we drew the bags completely over our heads and slept soundly till it was time to be up and stirring.

So far everything had been quiet and comfortable, but while we were consuming our breakfast, one of the men named Adams went to the boat for some more ship’s bread, and was in the act of taking it from the bag in which it was kept when a huge white bear put his nose over the side of the boat and opened its mouth, just as you see them in menageries when a biscuit is about to be tossed to them. He appeared to say,

“Don’t forget me, mate.”

Adams, far from being frightened, stooped and picked up an axe from the floor of the boat, and swinging it aloft brought it down so as to strike the animal fairly on the head, and had he succeeded he would probably have killed it instantaneously, as he was a powerful man.

The bear was too quick for him, however, and dodged the intended blow, so that the axe, instead of being buried in the furry one’s skull, found a billet in the side of the boat, where it was wedged so tightly by the force of the blow, that Adams could not withdraw it. He turned round to jump out and run to us, but the bear, rising on its hind legs, caught him a blow in the ribs which sent him with a crash into the bottom of the boat.

The bear still stood on its hind legs, roaring and looking very wicked--offering a capital mark for our rifles, three of which were aimed at the monster at the same time. Two almost simultaneous reports rang out, and the monster fell: my piece failed to go off--a bad cap I found afterwards, for breechloaders were not then in general use. We made a rush upon our fallen foe to give him the _coup de grâce_, but the terrible fellow was quite dead, from a shot through the eye, which had doubtless penetrated the brain. Two of his claws had been carried away by the other bullet, which came very near missing altogether.

Adams lay in the bottom of the boat perfectly conscious, and looking at us, but giving occasional groans.

“Are you hurt?” we asked.

“Hurt, mates? I’m afraid to move, for fear my whole starboard side is stove in. Give us a hand, one of you; steady--gently now.”

He rose with difficulty, and we carried him to the tent and examined his side. No bones were broken, but from the armpit to the waist was a terrible bruise upon which we rubbed a good coat of the bear’s fat, on the principle that like cures like.

Fearing that he would be an incumbrance to us, he determined to start back to the “Swan’s Nest” alone, as he could not pull on the sledge-ropes; so shouldering his rifle the plucky fellow returned across the icy wilderness, and reached our quarters safely (as we afterwards found), tired and sore in every limb, after a tramp and clamber of twelve hours.

We skinned the bear, rolling up the robe and placing it in the boat, and then commenced our tour of the island.

We had made the island on the north shore, and gradually worked round along the east coast, till we arrived at the south, where we discovered a nearly land-locked harbour of considerable extent, which we entered, finding it covered with quite smooth ice, smooth enough, in fact, for skating, which is a somewhat rare occurrence in these regions. The Ancient Mariner had “water, water everywhere, but not a drop to drink,” while in the far north we have ice and snow everywhere, but not a place to skate. The harbour was surrounded by steep cliffs of great height and snow-clad, but still a cosy-looking place for winter quarters for a whaler.

As we looked around these wall-like cliffs, we were startled by the sight of what appeared to be a solid-looking hut, built in a hollow, over which the great brown cliffs lowered as if they would fall and crush it. A steep, pathless, snowy slope led up to this strange dwelling, which no sooner caught sight of than, like a lot of boys just let out of school, we, with one accord, dropped our sledge-tugs and bounded up the craggy acclivity to see what it contained.

Sure enough it _was_ a hut, and of fair size too, built with its rear supported by the rocky cliffs, which had been hollowed out to receive it. Two windows, heavily barred, looked out over the frozen sea below, and between them was the heavy door, from a hole in which depended a thin metal chain. I seized the chain and gave it a pull, which raised a bar of wood within, causing the door to swing open of its own accord.

We looked within, but the interior was so dark that little was visible, even with the door open; but we could see a piece of blanket or battered sail stretched from side to side of the cabin, so as to divide it into two apartments, and we could also discern a rough, ancient-looking chair, and several large articles. I stepped in and drew the curtain aside; I say _drew_ it aside, but it really fell apart in my hand as I endeavoured to do so. Anyhow, enough of it was removed for me to see a most gruesome sight; for there, in the dim light, I could dimly discern the figure of a dead man, sitting by a table or bench, and, as may be supposed, the sight made me recoil against my comrades, whom I so imbued with my fright, that we all rushed out of the hut together.

Telling them what I had seen, I sent one of them to the boat for the lantern, so that we could obtain a light, and enter again into the inner apartment of the hut.

The lantern being brought, we crowded in quietly together, I being foremost with the light, and there, sure enough, sat a man at the table in such an attitude that, had we not known he must be dead, we should have thought he was simply asleep. He looked about sixty years of age, and possessed very fine intellectual features; but on closer examination we were surprised to find that his beard, instead of being an ordinary one of, say, a few inches long, or even an extraordinary one of a growth reaching to the waist, was of such an abnormal length that it not only reached the floor, but lay there in a huge tangled mass; nor was his hair a whit behind, as it fell in tresses over the back of the chair, and was actually frozen to the floor all around him. His eyebrows, too, hung down over his eyelids touching his cheeks, and as for his finger-nails!--well, they were as long and pointed as “the quills upon the back of the fretful porcupine.” His toe-nails had pierced his shoes, and extended beyond his toes a foot or more.

We gazed in silence, being struck speechless with amazement at the marvellous sight, and for some time our eyes were so riveted on the strange object before us, that we forgot each other’s presence.

My voice first broke the silence, but as I spoke my words seemed a kind of sacrilege to the presence and awful silence and solemnity of the dead man before us.

“Well, mates, what do you make of this?” I asked.

No one knew what to make of it, but old Johnson, our carpenter, asked--

“What’s that thing on the table in front of him?”

I held the lantern closer, to what appeared to be a curiously-shaped box; it was tall, and narrow, and of an octagonal form.

Drawing it towards me I raised the lid, for it was not locked, and discovered another small case within it. This I also opened, and within I found a roll of parchment, on which was clearly written in a bold black lettering, the following words--

“SOUTH ISLAND, SPITZBERGEN, “_August 17, 1773_.

“_To whomsoever may find me._

“I, Doctor Angus Sinclair, of Arbroath, Scotland, am the discoverer of a liquid which, injected into a vein, will suspend life for any length of time. I have chosen this spot in which to carry out an experiment to prove to the world that a person may sleep for any period he chooses; and by the aid of an antidote (which I have also discovered) may be awakened at any appointed time.

“I wish to remain dormant for one hundred years or more, and should any one discover me before that time, let him kindly forbear to awaken me.

“_Directions to restore Animation._

“Make an incision in a vein of my arm, and inject therein a few drops of the liquor in the blue bottle; in a few minutes I shall be restored to consciousness. A little hot drink of any kind will greatly facilitate my revival.”

When I finished reading the strange document, we looked at each other, then at the doctor, and then at each other again, not quite knowing what to do; but I presently sufficiently recovered from my surprise to hold the lantern close to the old fellow’s face, when we were startled to find that the colour still remained in his cheeks, and that the body, instead of being frozen hard, was quite soft and fleshlike.

We lifted the old man from his chair, and tried to lay him out on the floor, but his joints were so set fast that we could not straighten them, so replaced him in his seat.

“Hold on, mates, let us see what the bottles are like,” I said, for I could see the necks of three projecting from the box.

“Ah! here’s the blue one, and on it a label. Let us see what it says. ‘Liquor to restore Animation. Make an incision in the left arm and pour in about six or eight drops.’ That’s the one we want, mates, but let us see what the others contain. Here is a red bottle, and the label says, ‘Aid to Restoration. Infuse a teaspoonful in a gill of warm water, and give the patient to drink.’”

Old Matt Johnson set about finding some bits of driftwood to make a fire, for there was a stove in the cabin; while another ran to the boat to procure some water and a saucepan.

A fire was soon started, and the water made hot: then came the momentous question--

“Who will be surgeon?”

We doubted very much that the specifics in the bottles would have any effect upon the old fellow, who could scarcely be expected to awaken to life again after a sleep of ninety years. The document intimated that one hundred years was the time the doctor wished to slumber, but we thought ninety years quite long enough for a first trial; it would be a record for the world, and beat the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus and Rip Van Winkle hollow.

Before commencing to operate on our patient, we examined the other bottle, which was labelled “Sleeping Draught. A. S., 1773. Dose, ten drops with sugar.” This we replaced in the box, none of us wishing just then to try its effects.

Johnson at last agreed to make the incision, or as he called it, “the slot,” and taking out his jack-knife he whetted it on a piece of stone, giving it a few rubs on his boot to take off the roughness, and then proceeded to rip up the doctor’s coat-sleeve. It was one of those tight-fitting lappeted coats, in vogue during the second half of the last century, and quite in keeping with the date on the parchment--1773.

By the way, on scrutinizing the document once more, we discovered these words written on the back--

“At his own request I leave Dr. Sinclair on this island, and have promised to inform the harbour masters at whaling ports on the Scotch coast that he may be found on South Island if one of them will put in for him. He wishes to carry out several experiments of a scientific nature during the winter of 1772-73.

“(Signed), CAPTAIN PHIPPS, “Naval Surveyor to H.M. King George III.”

“Now, Chipps,” said I to old Johnson, “are you ready?”

“Aye, aye, sir,” said he, flourishing his knife, “ready and eager for the fray. Where shall I stick him, sir?”

“Be careful, now,” I replied, “and make a little hole just there,” and I pointed to a vein on the left forearm.

Johnson jabbed his knife in as if he were about to kill a pig: it made a wound an inch long and an inch deep, but, strangely enough, no blood flowed. With the aid of a piece off the stem of a tobacco pipe, I injected a few drops of the liquid from the blue bottle, and with open mouths and straining eyes we stood by to watch the result.

Several minutes went by without any apparent effect being noticeable on the old doctor. We felt his pulse, or rather his wrist, for he was as pulseless as the figurehead of a ship, and then tried his heart. We endeavoured to open his mouth to pour in a few drops of the liquor from the red bottle (which we had mixed with warm water), but his teeth were so tightly clenched that we could not give him the “Aid to Restoration.”

As we gazed earnestly upon our patient we fancied we saw a movement of his shaggy eyebrows, but put it down to the wind which found its way into the cabin through the open door.

We watched again, and this time, to our great surprise, we saw a twitching at the corners of the mouth, sufficient to cause a movement of the heavy moustache.

I poured in three drops more from the blue bottle, and in a few minutes saw the head of our patient slowly lift and fall back again on his chest.

We tried his mouth again, and this time succeeded in opening his jaws sufficiently wide to force a few drops of the warm liquid into his throat.

Just then two of the men called out simultaneously that the wound in his arm was bleeding. Sure enough such was the case, so, whipping out my handkerchief, I bound up the gaping gash which our friend the carpenter had made.

Slowly the old doctor regained his suspended animation and moved on his chair, and when I raised his eyebrows, which hung down over his eyes like the hair on the forehead of a Skye terrier, I found that his eyes were partially open.

Quietly taking my knife from my pocket I gently cut off the long locks of hair, so that the old man could see about him if he really did come to, after his ninety years’ sleep.

He made me start as I shore off his second eyebrow, for he gave a sudden shudder which caused him to tremble from top to toe.

Presently his eyes unclosed a little, and then a little more, till they gradually opened to their widest extent; but no animation or speculation was in them--they were the staring optics of a doll or a corpse.

His hands next began to tremble, and we could see the life creeping into his cramped limbs; and then his lips gave signs of movement. We took the opportunity to give him the remainder of the liquid in the red bottle mixed with water, and the effect was wonderful, for in about half-a-minute the tall figure of Doctor Sinclair half rose, and like a man suffering from delirium tremens, uttered the fierce exclamation of “You rascal!” and fell back on the seat again.

We scuttled out of the cabin like a lot of frightened children, jostling and falling over each other in our eagerness to escape from the presence of the awful-looking being we had brought to life and action.

After running some distance down the pathway or slope, we halted and looked back, as if we expected the Ancient One to follow us, but as he did not make his appearance we gradually and stealthily returned, and emboldened by neither seeing nor hearing anything of the being within, took courage to push the door of the cabin open.

We even went further and looked in, and there we saw the gaunt figure of Doctor Sinclair with palzied hands trying to erect itself by the friendly support of the massive oak table. His legs were so cramped, and, as it were, rusty by his long trance, that he could not straighten them properly, and so weak as to be nearly useless to support his frame. He was a terrible-looking figure as he peered over the table at us, with his grey beard and hair of unheard-of growth flowing down before and behind him in unkempt profusion.

He moaned and mumbled; and then, with a great effort, tried to reach us by concentrating his feeble energies and making a rush at us, but his feet became entangled in his beard, his legs tottered, and down he came, crash upon the hard floor, to all appearances dead.

Then our scattered senses returned to us, and being ashamed of ourselves and our cowardice, we rushed to pick him up, and once more to seat him upon his chair. A little brandy was administered, and presently we had the satisfaction of seeing him regain consciousness.

The fire was replenished, and the doctor laid tenderly in his berth and snugly covered up. We warmed some tinned soup, which refreshed him marvellously; so much so that he found his voice, and quietly asked, to our surprise--

“What year is it?”

“Eighteen hundred and sixty-two,” we replied.

“What king is reigning in England,” he asked.

“No king,” was my reply, “but a queen--Victoria.”

These answers seemed to satisfy him, for he smiled, and smiling fell into a sound sleep.

“Well, here’s a rummy go,” quoth Chips.

To which we all replied that it was indeed a strange adventure, and upon looking towards the old wooden cot one could hardly believe that the tremendous mass of white seaweed-looking substance trailing from the blanket to the floor, where it lay coiled like a heap of oakum, was ever the growth of a human head; there it was, however, proof positive before our astonished eyes.

Well, I must not spin my yarn out too long, or I may get it like the old man’s hair--into a tangle.

We stayed at the hut two days, during which the old doctor appeared to gather strength hourly; so much so that, with assistance, he could walk several yards, and nearly straighten his legs and back.

We made him a comfortable couch in the sledge-boat, covering him with the bear’s skin and a blanket, and all being in readiness we started back northward to Swan Inlet, having abandoned all idea of completing our survey of South Island, at least for the present.

We hoisted a large piece of red bunting at the prow of our sledge, and when we had arrived within about four miles of our destination, we could, with my binocular, discern little black figures leaving the “Nest” and coming over the ice to assist us back.

We halted between two ice hummocks, got out our stoves, and prepared a savoury meal of bear steaks and tinned soup, both of which, in such intense cold, were exceedingly welcome.

By the time our repast was completed and we had again got under weigh, the foremost of our comrades were nearly within hail. We soon rejoined them, and were very glad of their assistance to help us to tug our increased load over the rough hummocky ice.

We said not a word of our newly-found hairy man, for fear they might want to see him, and thus cause him annoyance. We wished to drag the sledge close to the shore, so that we could carry him right into the cosy “Swan’s Nest” at once, and put him to bed.

As we proceeded over the frozen ice and neared home, other men kept coming out to meet us, till all but about half-a-dozen of the whole forty were tailing on to the ropes, and taking the sledge along at a smart trot.

They could tell that there was some mystery attached to the carefully-covered object in the stern, and it was useless for us to try and put them off by saying it was only a heap of bear robes, for now and again the object moved. They would have uncovered it to see what was there, but I sternly forbade them to do so. Guesses of all kinds were made as to what the mysterious heap consisted of, but although many tried to unravel the secret not one succeeded. Some guessed young bears, another a nest of foxes--others said seals, and one averred it could be nothing but a young walrus, from its size and shape, but none hit upon anything near the truth.

The inlet was reached at last, the sledge travelling over the smooth ice of the haven at a great pace, but not before our gallant skipper was ready on the beach to welcome me and my men back.

We shook hands, and I then told the men to stand back, as I had something I wished to tell the captain. They stood away a few yards, in a circle, so as to completely surround us and the sledge, as if they were afraid it contained something that might escape. Hurriedly I told the captain the principal points of our adventure. He was struck all of a heap, as our American cousins say, and was at first disinclined to credit my story of apparently superhuman return to life.

However, he quietly lifted the blanket, and looking at the uncanny creature beneath, their eyes met. The captain started as if he had seen a savage lion, but quickly regaining his equanimity, gave orders for four hands to bring down a “barrow,” as the implement (which looks like a bier) is called. Twenty hands started for the barrow, and in five minutes the doctor was lying on it, while Chips and I walked behind with his surplus beard and hair coiled in our hands, to prevent it from trailing on the ground and throwing the bearers down.