 CHAPTER 8 OF THE FROZEN PIRATE I found myself on the summit of a kind of table land. Fast bodies of ice, every block weighing hundreds and perhaps thousands of tons, they scattered over it. Yet for the space of a mile or so the character was that of flatness. Southwards the range went upwards to a coastal front of some hundred feet, with a huddle of peaks and strange configurations behind, soaring to an elevation from the sea-line of two or three hundred feet. Northwards the range sloped gradually, with such a shelving of its hinder part that I could catch a glimpse of a little space of the blue sea that way. From this I perceived that whatever thickness and surface of ice lay southwards. In the north it was attenuated to the shape of a wedge, so that its extreme breadth, where it projected its cape or extremity, would not exceed a musket-shot. A companion might have qualified in my mind something of the sense of prodigious loneliness and desolation inspired by that huge picture of dazzling uneven whiteness, blotting out the whole of the southeast ocean, rolling in hills of blinding brilliance into the blue heavens, and curving and dying out into an airy film of silvery azure radiance, leagues away down in the south west. But to my solitary eye the spectacle was an amazing and confounding one. If I had not seen the tract of dark blue water in the northeast, I might have imagined that this island stretched as far into the east and north as it did in the south and west. And one thing I quickly enough understood, that if I wanted to behold the ocean on the east side of the ice I should have to journey the breadth of the range, which here, where I was, might mean one or five miles, for the blocks and lumps hid the view, and how far off the edge of the cliffs on the other side might be I could not therefore gather. This was not to be dreamt of, and therefore, to this extent, my climb had been useless. Being on top of the range now, I could plainly hear the noises of the splitting and internal convulsions of this vast formation. The sounds are not describable. Sometimes they seemed like the explosions of guns, sometimes like the growlings and mutterings of huge, fierce beasts, sometimes like smart single, ecolous blasts of thunder, and sometimes you heard a singular sort of hissing or snarling, such as iron makes when speeding over ice. Only when this noise happened, the volume of it was so great that the atmosphere trembled upon the air with it. It was impossible to fix the direction of these sounds. The island was full of them, and always sullenly booming upon the breeze was the voice of the ocean swell, bursting in foam against the ice-coast that confronted it. You may talk of the solitude of a cell-cork, but surely the spirit of loneliness in him could not rival the unutterable emotion of solitariness that filled my mind as I sent my gaze over those miles of frozen, sterless whiteness. He had the sight of fair pastures, of trees making a twinkling twilight on the sword, of grassy savannas and pleasant slopes of hills. The air was illuminated by the glorious plumage of flying birds. The bleat of goats broke the stillness in the valleys. There was a golden regale for his eye, and his other senses were gratified with the perfumes of rich flowers and engaging concerts among the trembling leaves. Above all, there was the soothing warmth of a delicious climate. But out upon those heaped and spreading plains of snow nothing stirred. If it were not once that I was startled by a loud report, and spied a rock about half a mile away, slide down the edge of a flat cliff and tumble into the sea. Nothing stirred, I say. There was an afrightening solemnity of motionless everywhere. The countenance of this plain clared like a great dead face at the sky. Neither sympathy nor fancy. No, not the utmost forces of the imagination could witness expression in it. Its unmeaningness was ghastly, and the ghastlier for the greatness of its bald and lifeless stare. I turned my eyes seawards. Happily, it was the whiteness that gave the ocean the extraordinarily rich dye I found in it. The expanse went in flowing folds of violet into the nethermost heavens. And though God knows what extent of horizon I surveyed, the line of it, as clear as glass, ran without the faintest flaw to amuse my heart with even an instant's hope. There was more weight, however, in the wind than I had supposed. It blew from the west of north, and was an exquisitely frosty wind, despite the quarter whence it came. It swept in moans among the rocks, and there were tones in it that recalled the stormy mutterings we had heard in the blasts which came upon the brig before the storm boiled down upon her. But my imagination was now so tight-strung as to be unwholesomely and unnaturally responsive to impulses and influences which at another time I had not noticed. There were a few heavy clouds in the northeast, so steam-like that me thought they borrowed their complexion from the snow on the island's cape there. I was pretty sure, however, that there was wind behind them. But if the roll of the ocean did not signify heavy weather near too, then what else it betokened I could not imagine. I cannot express to you how the very soul within me shrank from putting to sea in the little boat. There was no longer the support of the excitement and terror of escaping from a sinking vessel. I stood upon an island as solid as land, and the very sense of security it imparted rendered the boat an object of terror and the obligation upon me to launch into yonder mighty space as frightful as a sentence of death. Yet I could not but consider that it would be equally shocking to me to be locked up in this slowly crumbling body of ice. No, tenfold more shocking, and that if I had to choose between the boat and this hideous solitude and sure starvation I would cheerfully accept fifty times over again the perils of a navigation in my tiny arc. This reflection comforted me somewhat, and whilst I thus mused I remained standing with my eyes upon the little group of fanciful veins and spars of ice on the edge of the abrupt hollow. I had been too preoccupied to take close notice. On a sudden I started, amazed by an appearance too exquisitely perfect to be credible. The sun shone with a fine white frosty brilliance in the northeast. Some of these spikes and figures of ice reflected the radiance in several colours. In places where they were windswept of their snow and showed the naked ice, the hues were wondrously splendid, and mingling upon the site formed a kind of airy rainbow-like veil that complicated the whole congregation of white shaft and many tinctured spire, the marble column, the alabaster steeple into a confused but most surprisingly dainty and shining scene. It was whilst looking at this that my eye traced a little distance beyond the form of a ship's spars and rigging. Through the labyrinth of the ice outlines I clearly made out two masts, with two square yards on the four mast, the rigging perfect so far as it went, for the figuration showed no more than half the height of the masts, the lower parts being apparently hidden behind the edge of the hollow. I have said that this coast to the north, abounded in many groups of beautiful, fantastic shapes, suggesting a great variety of objects as the forms of clouds do, but nothing perfect. But here now was something in ice that could not have been completeer, more symmetrical, more faultlessly proportioned had it been the work of an artist. I walked close to it and a little way around so as to obtain a clearer view, and then, getting a fair sight of the appearance, I halted again, transfixed with amazement. The fabric appeared as if formed of frosted glass. The mast had a good rake, and with a seamen's eye I took notice of the furniture, observing the shrouds, stays, backstays, braces, to be perfect. Nay, as though the spirit artist of this fragile glittering pageant had resolved to omit no detail to complete the illusion, there stood a vein at the mast-head, shining like a tongue of ice against the soft blue of the sky. Come, thought I, recovering from my wonder, there is more in this than it is possible for me to gas by staring from a distance. So, striking my pole into the snow, I made carefully towards the edge of the hollow. The gradual unfolding of the picture prepared my mind for what I could not see till the brink was reached. Then, looking down, I beheld a schooner ricked vessel, lying in a sort of cradle of ice, stern on to the sea. A man, bulked out with frozen snow, so as to make his shape as great as a bear, leaned upon the rail with a slight upwards inclination of his head, as though he were in the act of looking fully up to hail me. His posture was even more life-like than that of the man under the rock, but his garment of snow robbed him of that reality of vitality which had startled me in the other, and the instant I saw him I knew him to be dead. He was the only figure visible. The whole body of the vessel was frosted by the snow into the glassy aspect of the spars and rigging, and the sunshine striking down made a beautiful prismatic picture of the silent ship. She was a very old craft. The snow had moulded itself upon her, and enlarged without spoiling her form. I found her age in the structure of her bells, the headboards of which curved very low round to the top of the stern, forming a kind of well there. The after-part of which was framed by the folksle bulkhead, after the fashion of shipbuilding in vogue in the reign of Anne and the first two Georges. Her top mass was standing, but her jib-oom was rigged in. I could find no other evidence of her people having snugged her for these winter quarters, in which she had been manifestly lying for years and years. I traced the outlines of six small cannons covered with snow, but resting with clean sculpted forms in their white coats, a considerable piece of ordnance aft, and several petreros or swivel pieces upon the after-ballwork rails. Gaffes and booms were in their places, and the sails felled upon them. The figuration of the main hatch showed a small square, and there was a companion or hatch cover above the main mast. There was no trace of a boat. She had a flush or level deck from the well in the bowels to a fathom or so past the main shrouds. It was then broken by a short poop deck which went in a great spring or rise to the stern that was after the pink style, very narrow and tall. Though I write this description coldly, let it not be supposed that I was not violently agitated and astonished almost into the belief that what I beheld was a mere vision, a phenomenon. The sight of the body I examined did not nearly so greatly astound me as the spectacle of this ice-locked schooner. It was easy to account for the presence of a dead man. My own situation, indeed, sufficiently solved the riddle of that corpse. But the ship, perfect in all respects, was like a stroke of magic. She lay with a slight list or inclination to laboured, but on the whole tolerably upright, owing to the corpulence of her bilge. The hollow or ravine that formed her bed went with a sharp incline under her stern to the sea, which was visible from the top of the cliffs, here through the split in the rocks. The shelving of the ice put the wash of the ocean at a distance of a few hundred feet from the schooner, but I calculated that the vessel's actual elevation above the waterline, supposing you to measure it with a plummet up and down, did not exceed twenty feet, if so much the hollow in which she rested, being above twenty feet deep. It was very evident that the schooner, had in years gone by, got embayed in this ice when it was far to the southward, and had in course of time been built up in it by floating masses. For how old the ice about the poles may be? Who can tell? In those sunless worlds the frozen continents may well possess the antiquity of the land, and who shall name the monarch who filled the throne of Britain when this vast field broke away from the main, and started on its stealthy navigation sunwards? End of The Frozen Schooner Chapter 9 of The Frozen Pirate This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by M. E. Allen The Frozen Pirate by William Clark Russell Chapter 9 I Lose My Boat I lingered, I daresay, above twenty minutes, contemplating this singular crystal fossil of a ship, and considering whether I should go down to her and ransack her for whatever might answer my turn. But she looked so darkly secret under her white garb, and there was something so terrible in the aspect of the motionless, snow-clad sentinel who leaned upon the rail that my heart failed me. And I very easily persuaded myself to believe that, first, it would take me longer to penetrate and search her than it was proper I should be away from the boat. That second, it was scarce to be supposed her crew had left any provisions in her, or that, if stores there were, they would be fit to eat. And that, finally, my boat was so small it would be rash to put into her any the most trifling matter that was not essential to the preservation of my life. So concluding to have nothing to do with the ghostly sparkling fabric, I started for the body under the rock, and with some pain and staggering, the ice being very jagged, lumpish, and deceitful to the tread, arrived at it. Nothing but the desire to possess the fine warm cloak could have tempted me to handle, or even to cast my eye upon the dead man again. I found myself more scared by him now than at first. His attitude was so lifelike that, although I knew him to be a corpse, had he risen on a sudden, the surprise of it could hardly have shocked me more than the astonishment his posture raised. As a skeleton he could not have so chilled and awed me, but so well preserved was his flesh by the cold, that it was hard to persuade myself he was not breathing, and that, though he feigned to be gazing downwards, he was not secretly observing me. His beard was frozen as hard as a bush, and it crackled unpleasantly to the movement of my hands, which I was obliged to force under it to unhook the silver chain that confined the cloak about his neck. I felt like a thief, and stole a glance over either shoulder as though forsooth some strangely clad companion of his should be creeping upon the unawares. Then thought I, since I had the cloak, I may as well take the watch, flask, and tobacco-box as I had before resolved, and so I dipped my hand into his pockets, and without another glance at his fierce still face made for the boat. I now noticed for the first time, so overwhelmingly had my discoveries occupied my attention, that the wind had freshened and was blowing briskly and piercingly. When I had first started upon the ascent of the slope, the wind had merely wrinkled the swell as the large bodies ran, but those wrinkles had become little seas, which flashed into foam after a short race, and the whole surface of the ocean was a brilliant blue tremble. I came to a halt to view the northeast sky before the brow of the rocks hit it, and saw that clouds were congregating there, and some of them blowing up to where the sun hung, these resembling in shape and colour the compact puff of the first discharge of a cannon before the smoke spreads on the air. What should I do? I sank into a miserable perplexity. If it was going to blow, what good could attend my departure from this island? It was an adverse wind, and when it freshened I could not choose but run before it, and that would drive me clean away from the direction I required to steer in. Yet if I was to wait upon the weather, for how long should I be kept a prisoner in this horrid place? True, a southerly wind might spring up tomorrow, but it might be otherwise, or come in a hard gale, and if I faltered now I might go on hesitating, and then my provisions would give out, and God alone knows how it would end with me. Besides, the presence of the two bodies made the island fearful to my imagination. In nature climbered in me to be gone, as summons my judgment could not resist, for reason often this leads, but instincts never. I fell again to my downward march and looked towards my boat. That is to say, I looked towards the part of the ice where the little haven in which she lay had been, and I found both boat and haven gone. I rubbed my eyes and stared again, touch that eye I am deceived by the ice. I glanced at the slope behind to keep me to my bearings, and once more sought the haven, but the rock that had formed it was gone. The blue swell rolled brimming past the line of shore there, and my eye following the swing of a fold, I saw the boat about three cables length distant out upon the water, swinging steadily away into the south, and showing and disappearing with the heave. The dead man's cloak fell for my arm. I uttered a cry of anguish. I clasped my hands and lifted them to God and looked up to him. I was for kicking off my boots and plunging into the water, but, mad as I was, I was not so mad as that. And mad I should have been to attempt it, for I could not swim twenty strokes, and had I been the stoutest swimmer that ever breasted the salt spray, the cold must speedily put an end to my misery. What was to be done? Nothing. I could only look idly at the receding boat with reeling brain. The full blast of the wind was upon her and helping the driving action of the billows. I perceived that she was irrecoverable, and yet I stood watching, watching, watching. My head burning with the surging of twenty impracticable schemes. I cast myself down and wept, stood up afresh and looked at the boat, then cried to God for help and mercy, bringing my hands to my throbbing temples, and in that posture straining my eyes at the fast vanishing structure. She was the only hope I had, my sole chance. My little stock of provisions was in her. Oh, what was I to do? Though I was at some distance from the place where what I have called my haven had been, there was no need for me to approach it to understand how my misfortune had come about. It was likely enough that the very crevice in which I had jammed the mast to secure the boat by was a deep crack that the increased swell had wholly split, so that the mast had tumbled when the rock floated away and liberated the boat. The horror that this white and frightful scene of desolation had at the beginning filled me with was renewed with such violence when I saw that my boat was lost and I was to be a prisoner on the death-haunted waist that I fell down in a sort of swoon like one partly stunned. And had any person come along and seen me, he would have thought me as dead as the body on the hill or the corpse that kept its dismal lookout from the deck of the schooner. My senses presently returning, I got up, and the rock upon which I stood being level, I fell to pacing it with my hands locked behind me, my head sunk, lost in thought. The wind was steadily freshening, it split with a howling noise upon the ice crags and unequal surfaces, and spun with a hollow note past my ear, and the thunder of the breakers on the other side of the island was deepening its tone. The sea was lifting and whitening, something of mistiness had grown up over the horizon that made a blue dullness of the junction of the elements there. But though a few clouds out of the collection of vapor in the northeast had floated to the zenith and were sailing down the south-west heaven, the azure remained pure, and the sun very frosty white and sparkling. I am writing a strange story with the utmost candor, and trust that the reader will not judge me severely for my confession of weakness, or consider me as wanting in the stuff out of which the hardy semen is made for owning to have shed tears and been stunned by the loss of my little boat and slender stalk of food. You will say it is not in the power of the dead to hurt a man, what more pitiful and harmless than a poor unburied corpse. I answer true, and declare that of the two bodies, as dead men, I was not afraid. But this mass of frozen solitude was about them, and they took a frightful character from it. They communicated an element of death to the desolation of the snow-clad island. The presence made a principality of it for the souls of dead sailors, and into their lifelike stillness it put its own supernatural spirit of loneliness. So that to my imagination, disordered by suffering and exposure, this melancholy region appeared a scene without parallel on the face of the globe, a place of doom and madness, as dreadful and wild as the highest mood of the poet could reach up to. By this time the boat was out of sight. I looked and looked, but she was gone. Then came my good angel to my help and put some courage into me. After all, thought I, what do I dread? Death! It can but come to that. It is not long ago that Captain Rosie cried to me, A man can die but once, he'll not perish the quicker for contemplating his end with a stout heart. He that so spoke is dead, the worst is over for him. Where he had bathed breasting upon his mother's breast he could not sleep more soundly, be more tenderly lulled, nor be freer from such anguish as now afflicts me, who cling to life as if this, this I cried, looking around me, were a paradise of warmth and beauty. I must be a man, ask God for courage to meet whatever may be tied and stoutly endure what cannot be evaded. Do not smile at the simple thoughts of a poor castaway sailor. I held them still to be good reasoning, and had my flesh being as strong as my spirit, they had availed, I don't doubt. But I was chilled in the marrow, the mere knowing that there was nothing to eat sharpened my appetite, and I felt as if I had not tasted food for a week. And here then were physical conditions which broke ruinously into philosophy and staggered religious trust. My mind went to the schooner, yet I felt an extraordinary recoil within me when I thought of seeking an asylum in her. I had the figure of her before my fancy, viewed the form of the man on her deck, in the idea of penetrating her dark interior and seeking shelter in a fabric that time and frost and death had wrought into a black mystery was dreadful to me. Nor was this all. It seemed like the very last expression of despair to board that stirruous frame, to make a dwelling place without prospect of deliverance in that hollow of ice, to become in one sense as dead as her lonely mariner, yet preserve all the sensibility of the living to a condition he was as unconscious of as the ice that enclosed him. It must be done nevertheless that I shall certainly perish from exposure if I linger here. Besides, how do I know but that I may discover in that ship some means of escaping from the island? Assuredly there was plenty of material in her for the building of a boat, if I could meet with tools. Or possibly I might find a boat under hatches, for it was common for vessels of her class and in her time to stow their penises in the hold, and when the necessity for using them arose to heist them out and tow them astern. These reflections somewhat heartened me, and also let me add that the steady mounting of the wind into a small gale served to reconcile me, not indeed to the loss of my boat, but to my detention. For though there might be a miserable languishing end for me here, I could not but believe that there was certain death too out there in that high swell and in those sharpening peaks of water of whose foaming heads the wind was blowing the spray. By which I mean the boat could not have plied in such a wind, she must have run, and by running have carried me into the stormier regions of the south, where, even if she had lived, I must speedily have starved for a vitals unperished of cold. Hope lives like a spark amid the very blackest embers of despondency. Twenty minutes before I had awakened from a sort of swoon and was overwhelmed with misery, and now here was I taking a collective view of my situation, even to the extent of being willing to believe that on the whole it was perhaps as well that I should have been hindered from putting to sea in my little eggshell. So at every step we rebel at the shadowy conducting of the hand of God, yet from every stage we arrive at we look back and know the road we have traveled to be the right one, though we start afresh mutinously. Lord, what patience hast thou? I turned my back upon the clamorous ocean and started to ascend the slope once more. When I reached the brow of the cliffs I observed that the clouds had lost their fleeciness and taken a slate-ish tinge, were moving fast and crowding up the sky, inso much that the sun was leaping from one edge to another, and darting a keen and frosty light upon the scene. The wind was bitterly cold and screamed shrilly in my ears when I met the full tide of it. The change was sudden, but it did not surprise me. I knew these seas, and that our English April is not more capricious than the weather in them, only that here the sunny smile, though sparkling, is frostier than the kiss of death, and brief as the flade of a musket ball, whilst the frowns are black, savage, and lasting. I bore the dead man's cloak on my arm and helped myself along with the ore, and presently arrived at the brink of the slope in whose hollow lay the ship as in a cup. The wind made a noisy howling in her rigging, but the tackling was frozen so iron-hard that not a rope stirred, and the vein at the mast-head was as motionless as any of the adjacent steeples or pillars of ice. My heart was dismayed again by the figure of the man. He was more dreadful than the other because of the size to which the frozen snow upon his head, trunk, and limbs had swelled him, and the half-rise of his face was particularly startling, as if he were in the very act of running his gaze softly upwards. That he should have died in that easy-leaning posture was strange. However, I supposed, and no doubt rightly, that he had been seized with a sudden faintness, and had leaned upon the rail and so expired. The cold would quickly make him rigid and likewise preserve him, and thus he might have been leaning, contemplating the ice of the cliffs for years and years. A wild and dreadful thing for one in my condition to light on and be forced to think of. My heart, as I have said, sank in me again at the sight of him, and fear and awe and superstition so worked upon my spirits that I stood irresolute, and would have gone back had there been any place to return to. I plucked up after a little, and, rolling up the cloak into a compact bundle, flung it with all my strength to the vessel, and it fell cleverly just within the rail. Then, gripping the oar, I started on the descent. The depth was not great, nor the declivity sharp, but the surface was formed of blocks of ice, like the collections of big stones you sometimes encounter on the sides of mountains near the base. And I had again and again to fetch a compass so as to again a smaller block down which to drop, till I was close to the vessel, and here the snow had piled and frozen into a smooth face. The ship lay with a list or inclination to Larbird. I had come down to her on her starbird side. She had small channels with long plates, but her list on my side hoved them somewhat high beyond my reach, and I perceived that to get aboard I must seek an entrance on the Larbird hand. This was not hard to arrive at, indeed I had but to walk round her under her boughs. She was so coated with hard snow I could see nothing of her timbers, and was therefore unable to guess at the condition of the hull. She had a most absurd swelling bilge, and her buttocks, viewed on a line with her rudder, doubtless presented the exact appearance of an apple. She was sunk in snow to some planks above the Garberd Strait, but her lines forward were fine, making her almost wedge-shaped, though the flair of her boughs was great, so that she swelled up like a balloon to the cat-heads. She had something of the look of the bark along as of half a century ago. That is, half a century ago from the date of my adventure. But that which, and sober truth a man would have taken her to be, was a vessel formed of snow, sparred and rigged with glass-like frosted ice. The artistic caprice of the genius or spirit of this white and melancholy scene, who, to complete the mocking illusion, had fashioned the figure of a man to stand on deck with a human face toughened into an idle eternal contemplation. On the Larberd Hand the ice pressed close against the vessel's side, some pieces rising to the height of her wash-strake. The face of the hollow was precipitous here, full of cracks and flaws and sharp projections. Indeed, had the breadth of the island been as it was at the extremity, I might have counted upon the first violent commotion of the sea snapping this part of the ice and converting the northern part of the body into a separate berg. I climbed without difficulty into the four chains, the snow being so hard that my feet and hands may not the least impression on it, and somewhat warily, feeling the government of a peculiar awe mounting into a sort of terror indeed, stood awhile, peering over the rail of the bulwarks, then entered the ship. I ran my eyes swiftly here and there, for indeed I did not know what might steal or leap into view. Let it be remembered that I was a sailor with the superstitious feelings of my calling in me, and though I do not know that I actually believed in ghosts and apparitions and spectrums, yet I felt as if I did, particularly upon the deck of this silent ship, rendered spirit-like by the grave of ice in which she lay, and by the long years as I could not doubt, during which she had thus rested. Hence, when I slipped off the bulwark onto the deck, and viewed the ghastly white lonely scene, I felt for the moment as if this strange discovery of mine was not to be exhausted of its wonders and terrors by the mere existence of the ship, in other words that I must expect something of the supernatural to enter into this icy sepulcher, and be prepared for sites more marvelous and terrifying than frozen corpses. So I stood, looking forward and aft, very swiftly, and in a way I daresay that a spectator would have thought laughable enough, nor was my imagination soothed by the clear, harping, ringing sounds of the wind, seething through the frozen rigging where the masts rove above the shelter of the sides of the hollow. Presently, getting the better of my perturbation, I walked aft, and, stepping onto the poop deck, fell to an examination of the companion or covering of the after-hatch, which, as I have elsewhere said, was covered with snow. End of Chapter 9 Chapter 10 of the Frozen Pirate This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Marilyn Rakes The Frozen Pirate by William Clark Russell Chapter 10 Another Startling Discovery This hatch formed the entrance to the cabin, and there was no other road to it that I could see. If I wanted to use it, I must first scrape away the snow, but unhappily I had left my knife in the boat, and was without any instrument that would serve me to scrape with. I thought of breaking the beer bottle that was in my pocket and scratching with a piece of the glass, but before doing this it occurred to me to search the body on the starboard side. I approached him as if he were alive and murderously fierce, and I own I did not like to touch him. He resembled the figure of a giant molded in snow. In life he must have been six feet and a half tall. The snow had bloated him, and though he leaned he stood as high as I, who was of a tolerable stature. The snow was on his beard and mustache and on his hair, but these features were merged and compacted into the snow on his coat, and as this cap came low and was covered with snow too, he, with the little fragment of countenance that remained, the flesh whereof had the color and toughness of the skin of a drum that has been well beaten, submitted as terrible an object as mortal sight have arrested on. I say I did not like to touch him, and one reason was I feared he would tumble, and though I know not why I should have dreaded this, yet the apprehension of it so worked in me that for some time it held me idly staring at him. But I could not enter the cabin without first scraping the snow from the companion door, and the cold, after I had stood a few moments inactive, was so bitter as to set me craving for shelter. So I put my hand upon the body, and discovered it, as I might have foreseen, frozen to the hardness of steel. His coat, if I may call that a coat which resembled a robe of snow, fell to within a few inches of the deck. Steadying the body with one hand, I heartily tweaked the coat with the other, hoping thus to rupture the ice upon it. In doing which I slipped and fell on my back, and in falling gave a convulsive kick which, striking the feet of the figure, dislodged them from their frozen hold of the deck, and down it fell with a mighty bang alongside of me, and with a loud crackling noise, like the rending of a sheet of silk. I was not hurt, and sprang to my feet with the aliquity of fright, and looking at the body saw that it had managed by its fall much better than my hands could have compassed. For the snow shroud was cracked and crumbled, slabs of it had broken away, leaving the cloth of the coat visible, and what best pleased me was the sight of the end of a hanger forking out from the skirt of the coat. Yet to come at it so as to draw the blade from its scabbard required an intolerable exertion of strength. The clothes on this body were indeed like a suit of mail. I never could have believed that frost-served cloth so. At last I managed to pull the coat clear of the hilt of the hanger, the blade was stuck, but after I had tugged a bit it slipped out, and I found it a good piece of steel. The corpse was habited in jackboots, a coat of coarse thick cloth lined with flannel, under this a kind of plouse or doublet of red cloth, confined by a belt with leathern hloops for pistols. His apparel gave me no clue to the age he belonged to. It was no better, indeed, than a sort of masquerading attire, as though the fashions of more than one country, and perhaps of more than one age, had gone to the habit of him. He looked a burly, immense creature as he lay upon the deck in the same bent attitude in which he had stood at the rail, and so dreadful was his face, with a singular diabolical expression of leering malice, caused by the lids of his eyes being half-closed, that having taken one peep I had no mind to repeat it, though I was above ten minutes wrestling with his cloak and hanger before I had the weapon fairly in my hand. I walked to the companion and fell to scraping the snow away from it. It was like scratching at mortar between bricks, but I worked hard and presently with the point of the hanger felt the crevice twix the door and its jam, after which it was not long before I had carved the door out of its plate of ice and snow. The wind was now blowing a fresh gale, and the howling aloft was extremely melancholy and dismal. I could not see the ocean, but I heard it thundering with a hollow, roaring note, and the sharp reports and distant sullen crashing noises with nearer convulsions within the ice were very frequent. My labour warmed me, but it also increased my hunger. While I hacked and scraped at the snow I was considering whether I should come across anything fit to eat in the ship, and if not, what was I to do? Here was a vessel assuredly not less than fifty or sixty years old, and even supposing she was almost new when she fell in with the ice, the date of her disaster would still carry her back half a century, so that, and certainly there was much in the appearance of the body on the rocks to warrant the conjecture, she would have been sepulchred and fossilized for fifty years. What, then, in the form of provisions proper for human food, such as even a famine-driven stomach could deal with, was I likely to find in her? Would not her crew have eaten her bear, devoured the very heart out of her before they perished? These thoughts weighed heavily in me, but I toiled on nevertheless, and having cleared the door of the snow that bound it I prized it apart with the hanger and then dragged at it, but the snow on the deck would not let it open far, and as there was room for me to squeeze through I did not stop to scrape the obstruction away. A flight of steps sank into the darkness of the interior, and a cold strange smell floated up, with something of a dry earthiness of flavor and a mingling of leather and timber. I fell back apace to let something of this smell exhale before I ventured into an atmosphere that had been hermetically bottled by the ice in that cabin since the hour when this little door was last closed. Superstition was active in me again, and when I peered into the blackness at the bottom of the hatch I felt as might a schoolboy on the threshold of a haunted room in which he is to be locked up as punishment. I put my foot on the ladder and descended very slowly indeed, my inclination being strong the other way, and I kept on looking downwards in a state of ridiculous fright as though at any moment I should be seized by the leg, being in too much confusion of mind to consider that it was impossible anything living could be below. Whilst a ghostly shadow could not catch hold of me so as to cause me to feel its grasp, but then if fear could reason it would cease to be fear. On reaching the bottom I remained standing close against the ladder, striving to see into what manner of place I was arrived. The glare of the whiteness of the decks and rocks hung upon my eyes like a kind of blindness charged with fires of several colors, and I could not obtain the faintest glimpse of any part of this interior outside the sphere of the little square of hazy light which lay upon the deck at the foot of the steps. The darkness indeed was so deep that I concluded this was no more than a narrow well formed of bulkheads and that the cabin was beyond and led to by a door in the bulkhead. To test this conjecture I extended my arms in a groping posture and stepped a pace forward, feeling to right and left, till, having gone five or six paces from the ladder, my fingers touched something cold, and feeling it I passed my hand down what I instantly knew by the projection of the nose and the roughness of hair on the upper lip to be a human face. A little reflection might have prepared me for this, but I had not reflected, at least in this direction, and was therefore not prepared, and the horrible thrill of that black chill contact went in an agony through my nerves and I burst into a violent perspiration. I backed away with all my hair astir and then shot up the ladder as if the devil had been behind me, and when I reached the deck I was trembling so violently that I had to lean against the companion lest my knees should give way. Never in all my time had I received such a fright as this, but then I had gone to it in a fright, and was exactly in the state of mind to be terrified out of my senses. My soul had been rendered sick and weak within me by my mental and corporeal suffering, my loneliness too was dreadful, and the wilder and more scaring too for this my unhappy association with the dead. The shrieking and the rigging was like the tongue given by endless packs of hunting phantom wolves, and the growling and crackling noises of the ice in all directions would have made one coming new to this desolate scene supposed that the island of ice was full of fierce beasts. But needs must, when old Nick drives, I had either to find courage to enter the schooner and search her, and so stands to come across the means to prolong my life and perhaps procure my deliverance, or perish of famine and frost on deck. The companion door was small, and being scarce more than a jar I was not surprised that only a very faint light entered by it. If the top were removed I doubted not I should be able to get a view of the cabin, enough to show me where the windows or port holes were. So I went to work with the hangar again, insensibly obtaining a little stock of courage from the mere brandishing of it. In half an hour I had chipped and cut away the ice around the companion and then found it to be one of those old-fashioned clumsy hatch covers formally used in certain kinds of Dutch ships, namely a box with a shoulder-shaped lid. This lid, though heavy and fitting with the tongue, I managed to unship on which the full square of the hatch lay open to the sky. The light gave me heart. Once more I descended. After a few moments the bewildering dazzle of the snow faded off my sight and I could see very distinctly. The cabin was a small room. The forward part lay in shadow but I could distinguish the outline of the main mast amid ships of the bulkhead there. In the center of this cabin was a small square table supported by iron pins that pierced through stanchions in such a manner that the table could at will be raised to the ceiling and there left for the convenience of space. At this table seated upon short, cointly rock benches and immediately facing each other were two men. They were incomparably more lifelike than the frozen figures. The one whose back was upon the hatchway ladder, being the man whose face I had stroked, sat upright in the posture of a person about to start up, both hands upon the rim of the table and his countenance raised as if in a sudden terror and agony of death he had darted a look to God. So, initimately expressive of life was his attitude that though I knew him to be a frozen body as perished as if he had died with Adam or Noah I was sensible of a breathless wonder in me that the affrighted start with which it seemed to be rising from the table was not continued, that in short he did not spring to his feet with the cry that you seem to hear in his posture. The other figure lay over the table with his face buried in his arms. He wore no covering to his head, which was bald, yet his hair on either side was plentiful and lay upon his arms and his beard fluffing up about his buried face gave him an uncommon shaggy appearance. The other had on a round fur cap with laplets for the ears. His body was muffled in a thick ash-colored coat, his hair was also abundant, curling long and black down his back, his cheeks were smooth manifestly through nature rather than the razor, and the ends of a small black mustache were twisted up to his eyes. These were the only occupants of the cabin, which their presence rendered terribly ghastly and strange. There was perhaps something in keeping with the icy spell of death upon this vessel in the figure of the man who was bowed over the table, for he looked as though he slept, but the other mocked the view with a spectrum of the fever and passion of life. You would have sworn he had beheld the skeleton hand of the shadow reaching out of the dimness for him, that he had started back with a curse and cry of horror and expired in the very agony of his affrighted recoil. The interior was extremely plain, the bulkheads of a mahogany color, the dex bare, and nothing in the form of an ornament saving a silver crucifix hanging by a nail to the trunk of the main mast, and a cage with a frozen bird of gorgeous plumage suspended to the bulkhead near the hatch. A small lengthorn of an old pattern dangled over the table, and I noticed that it contained two or three inches of candle. A bathed the hatchway was a door on the starboard side which I opened, and found a narrow dark passage. I could not pierce it with my eye beyond a few feet, but perceiving within this range the outline of a little door I concluded that here were the births in which the master and his mates slept. There was nothing to be done in the dark, and I bitterly lamented that I had left my tinderbox and flint in the boat, for then I could have lighted the candle in the lantern. Perhaps thought I, one of those figures may have a tinderbox upon him. Custom was now somewhat hardening me. Moreover I was spurred on by mortal anxiety to discover if there was any kind of food to be met with in the vessel. So I stepped up to the figure whose face I had touched, and felt in his pockets. But neither on him nor on the other did I find what I wanted. Though I was not a little astonished to discover in the pockets of the occupants of so small and humblest ship as this schooner a fine gold watch as rich as the one I had brought away from the man on the rocks, and more elegant in shape, a gold snuffbox set with diamonds, several rings of beauty and value lying loose in the breeches pocket of the man whose face was hidden, a handful of Spanish pieces in gold, handkerchiefs of fine silk, and other articles, as if indeed these fellows had been overhauling a parcel of booty, and then carelessly returned the contents to their pockets. But what I needed was the means of obtaining a light, so after casting about I thought I would search the body on deck, and went to it, and to my great satisfaction discovered what I had wanted in the first pocket I dipped my hand into, though I had to rip open the mouth of it away from the snow with the hanger. I returned to the cabin and lighted the candle and carried the lantern into the black passage or corridor. There were four small doors, belonging to as many birds. I opened the first and entered a compartment that smelled so intolerably stale and frosty that I had to come into the passage again and fetch a few breaths to humor my nose to the odor. As in the cabin, however, so here I found this noxiousness of air was not caused by putrification of any tainting qualities of a vegetable or animal kind, but by the deadness of the pent-up air itself, as the foulness of bilge water is owing to its being imprisoned from air in the bottom of the hold. I held up the lantern and looked about me. A glance or two satisfied me that I was in a room that had been appropriated to the steward and his mates. A number of dark objects, which on inspection I found to be hams, were stowed snugly away in battens under the ceiling or upper deck. A cask half full of flour stood in a corner, near it lay a large corset sack in which was a quantity of biscuit, a piece of which I bit and found it as hard as flint and tasteless, but not in the least degree moldy. There were four shells running atward ships full of glass, knives and forks, dishes and so forth. Some of the glass varied choice and elegant, and many of the dishes and plates also very fine, fit for the greatest nobleman's table. Under the lower shelf on the deck lay a sack of what I believed to be black stones, until after turning one or two of them about it came upon me that they were, or had been I should say, potatoes. Not to tease you with too many particulars under this head let me briefly say that in this larder or stewards room I found among other things several cheeses, a quantity of candles, a great earthenware pot full of peas, several pounds of tobacco, about 30 lemons, along with two small casks and three or four jars, manifestly of spirits, but of what kind I could not tell. I took a stout sharp knife from one of the shelves and pulling down one of the hams tried to cut it, but I might as well have striven to slice a piece of marble. I attempted next to cut a cheese, but this was frozen as hard as the ham. The lemons, candles and tobacco had the same astonishing quality of stoniness and nothing yielded to the touch but the flour. I laid hold of one of the jars and thought to pull the stopper out but it was frozen hard in the hole it fitted and I was five minutes hammering it loose. When it was out I inserted a steel used for the sharpening of knives and found the contents solid ice nor was there the faintest smell to tell me what the spirit or wine was. Never before did plenty offer itself in so mocking a shape. It was the very irony of abundance. Substantial ghostliness and abarmacy its feast to my aching stomach. But there was biscuit not unconquerable by teeth used to the fare of the sea life and picking up a whole one I sat me down on the edge of a cask and fell a munching. One reflection however comforted me, namely that this petrification by freezing had kept the victual sweet. I was sure that there was little here that might not be thawed into relishable nourishing food and drink by a good fire. The sight of these stores took such a weight off my mind that no felon reprieved from death could feel more elated than I. My forebodings had come to not in this regard and here for the moment my grateful spirits were content to stop. Chapter 11 of The Frozen Pirate. This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer, please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Maxwell. The Frozen Pirate by W. Clark Russell. Chapter 11. I make further discoveries. So long as I moved about and worked, I did not feel the cold. But if I stood or sat for a couple of minutes, I felt the nip of it in my very marrow. Yet, fear says the cold was here, it was impossible it could be comparable with the rigors of the parts in which this schooner had originally got locked up in the ice. No doubt if I died on deck, my body would be frozen as stiff as the figure on the rocks. But though it was very conceivable that I might perish of cold in the cabin by sitting still, I was sure the temperature below had not the severity to stonify me to the granite of the man at the table. Still, though a greater degree of cold, cold as killing as if the world had fallen sunless, did unquestionably exist in those latitudes whence this ice with a schooner in its hug had floated. It was so bitterly bleak in this interior that to a scarce imaginable it could be colder elsewhere. And as I rose from the cask shuddering to the heart with the frosty motionless atmosphere, my mind naturally went to the consideration of a fire by which I might sit and toast myself. I put a bunch of candles in my pocket. They were as hard as a parcel of marlene spikes, and took the laying horn into the passage and inspected the next room. Here was a cot hung up by hooks, and a large black chest stood in cleats upon the deck, some clothes dangled from pins in the bulkhead, and upon a kind of tray fixed upon short legs and serving as a shelf were miscellaneous bundle of boots, laced waistcoats, three corner hats, a couple of swords, three or four pistols, and other objects not very readily distinguishable by the candle light. There was a port which I tried to open, but found it so hard frozen I should need a hand spike to start it. There were three cabins besides this. The last cabin, that is the one in the stern, being the biggest of the lot. Each had its cot, and each also had its own special muddle and litter of boxes, clothes, firearms, swords, and the like. Indeed, by this time I was beginning to see how it was. The suspicion that the watches and jewellery I had discovered on the bodies of the men had excited was now confirmed, and I was satisfied that this schooner had been a pirate or buccaneer of what nationality I could not yet divine. Me thought Spanish from the costume of the first figure I had encountered. And I was also convinced by the brief glance I directed at the things in the cabin, particularly the wearing apparel, and the make and appearance of the firearms that she must have been in this position for upwards of 50 years. The thought awed me greatly. 20 years before I was born, those two men were sitting dead in the cabin. He on deck was keeping his blind and silent lookout. He on the rocks with his hands locked upon his knees sat sunk in blank and frozen contemplation. Every cabin had its port and the reports in the vessel's side opposite. But on reflection I considered that the cabin would be the warmer for their remaining clothes. And so I came away and entered the great cabin afresh, bent on exploring the forward part. I must tell you that the main mast, piercing the upper deck, came down close against the bulkhead that formed the forward wall of the cabin. And on approaching this partition, the daylight being broad enough now that the hatch lay open on top, I remarked a sliding door on the larbored side of the mast. I put my shoulder to it and very easily ran it along its grooves, and then found myself in the way of a direct communication with all the four portion of the schooner. The arrangement indeed was so odd that I suspected a piratical device in this uncommon method of opening out at will the whole range of deck. The air here was as vile as in the cabins, and I had to wait a bit. On entering I discovered a little compartment with racks on either hand filled with small arms. I afterwards counted 113 muskets, blunderbusses, and fusels, all of an antique kind whilst the sides of the vessel were hung with pistols great and little, boardingpikes, cutlasses, hangers, and other sorts of sword. This armory was a sight to set me walking very cautiously. For it was not likely that powders should be wanting in a ship thus equipped. And where was it stowed? There was another sliding door in the forward partition. It stood open, and I passed through it into what I immediately saw was the cookhouse. I turned the lantern about and discovered every convenience for dressing food. The furnaces were a brick and an oven was a great one, great, I mean, for the size of the vessel. There were pots, pans, and kennels in plenty, a dresser with drawers, dishes of tin and earthenware, a Dutch clock. In short, such an equipment of kitchen furniture as you would not expect to find in the galley of an Indian man built to carry two or three hundred passengers. About half a children of small coal lay heaped in a wooden angular fence fitted to the ship's side, for the sight of which I thanked God. I held the lantern to the furnace and observed a crooked chimney rising to the deck and passing through it. The mouth or head of it was no doubt covered by the snow, for I had not noticed any such object in the survey I had taken of the vessel above. Strange, I thought, that these men should have frozen to death with the material in the ship for keeping a fire going. But then my whole discovery I regarded as one of those secrets of the deep which defy the utmost imagination and experience of a man to explain them. Enough that here was a schooner which had been interred in a sepulcher of ice, as I might rationally conclude, for near half a century, that there were dead men in her who looked to have been frozen to death that she had apparently stored with miscellaneous booty, that she was powerfully armed for a craft of her size, and had manifestly gone crowded with men. All this was plain, and I say it was enough for me. If she had papers they were to be met with presently, otherwise conjecture would be mere imbecility in the face of those white and frostbound countenances and iron silent lips. I thrust back another sliding door and entered the ship's forecastle. The ceiling, as I chose to call the upper deck, was lined with hammocks, and the floor was covered with chests, bedding, clothes, and I know not what else. The ringing of the wind on high did not disturb the stillness, and I cannot convey the impression produced on my mind by this extraordinary scene of confusion beheld amid the silence of that tomb-like interior. I stood in the doorway, not having the courage to venture further. For all I knew, many of those hammocks might be tenanted, for as this kind of bed expresses by its curvature the round shape of a semen, whether it be empty or not. So it was impossible by merely looking to know whether it is occupied or vacant. The dismalness of the prospect was, of course, vastly exaggerated by the feeble light of the candle, which, swaying in my hand, flung a swarming of shadows upon the scene through which the hammocks glimmered Juan and melancholy. I came away in a fright, sliding the door to in my hurry with a bang that fetched a groaning echo out of the hold. If this ship were haunted, the forecastle would be the abode of the spirits. Before I could make a fire, the chimney must be cleared. Among the furniture in the arms room were a number of spade-headed spears. The spade as wide as the length of a man's thumb, and about a foot long, mounted on a light thin wood. Armed with one of these weapons, the like of which is to be met with among certain South American tribes, I passed into the cabin to proceed on deck. But though I knew the two figures were there, the coming upon them afresh struck me with as much astonishment and alarm as if I had not before seen them. The man starting from the table confronted me on this entrance, and I stopped dead to that astounding living posture of terror, even recoiling, as though he were alive indeed, and was jumping up from the table in his amazement at my apparition. The brilliance of the snow was very striking after the dusk of the interiors I had been penetrating. The glare seemed like a blaze of white sunshine, yet it was the dazzle of the ice and nothing more for the sun was hidden. The fairness of the morning was past. The sky was lead-colored down to the ocean line, with the quantity of smoke-brown scud flying along it. The change had been rapid, as it always is hereabouts. The wind screamed with a piercing whistle sound through the frozen rigging, splitting in wails and bounding in a roar upon the adamantine peaks and rocks. The cracking of the ice was loud, continuous, and mighty startling, and these sounds, combined with the thundering of the sea and the fierce hissing of its rushing yeast, gave the weather the character of a storm, though as yet it was no more than a fresh gale. However, though it was frightful to be alone in this frozen vault, with no other society than that of the dead, not even a seafowl to put life into the scene, I could not but feel that, be my prospects what they might, for the moment I was safe. That is to say, I was immeasurably secure than ever I could have been in the boat, which, when I had emerged into this stormy sound and realized the sea that was running outside, I instantly thought of with a shudder. Had the rock I'm used not fallen and liberated the boat, where should I be now? Perhaps floating, a corpse, fathoms deep underwater, or, if alive, then flying before the scale into the south, ever widening the distance betwixt me and all chance of my deliverance, and every hour gauging more deeply the horrible cold of the pole. Indeed, I began to understand that I had been mercifully diverted from courting a hideous fate, and my spirits rose with the emotion of gratitude and hope that tens upon preservation. I speedily spied the chimney, which showed ahead of two feet above the deck, and made short work of the snow that was frozen in it, as nothing could have been fitter to cut ice with than the spade-shaped weapon I carried. This done, I returned to the cook room, and with a butcher's axe that hung against the bulkhead, I knocked away one of the boards that confined the coal, split it into small pieces, and in a short time had kindled a good fire. One does not need the experience of being cast away upon an iceberg to understand the comfort of a fire. I had a mind to be prodigal, and threw a good deal of coals into the furnace, and presently had a noble blaze. The heat was exquisite. I pulled a little bench, after the pattern of those in which the men sat in the cabin, to the fire, and with outstretched legs and arms, thaw out of me the frost that had lain taught in my flesh ever since the wreck of the laughing merry. When I was thoroughly warm and comforted, I took the lantern and went af to the stewage room, and brought thence a cheese, a ham, some biscuit, and one of the jars of spirits, all which I carried to the cook room, and placed the whole of them in the oven. I was extremely hungry and thirsty, and the warmth and cheerfulness of the fire set me yearning for a hot meal. But how was I to make a bowl without fresh water? I went on deck and scratched up some snow. But the salt in it gave it a sickly taste, and I was not only certain it would spoil and make disgusting whatever I mixed it with, or cooked in it, but it stood as a drink to disorder my stomach and bring on an illness. So, thought I to myself, there must be fresh water about, casks enough in the hold, I dare say, but the hold was not to be entered and explored without labor and difficulty, and I was weary and famished and in no temper for hard work. In all ships it is the custom to carry one or more casts, called scuttle butts on deck, into which fresh water is pumped for the use of the crew. I stepped along looking earnestly at the several shapes of guns, coils of rigging, hatchways and the like, upon which the snow lay thick and solid, sometimes preserving the mold of the object it covered, sometimes distorting and exaggerating it into an unrecognizable outline, but perceived nothing that answered to the shape of a cask. At last I came to the well in the head, past the four-castle deck, and on looking down spied among other shapes three bulged and bulky forms. I seemed by instinct to know that these were the scuttle butts and went for the chopper, with which I returned and got into this hollow that was four or five feet deep. The snow had the hardness of iron. It took me a quarter of an hour of severe labor to make sure of the character of the bulky thing I wrought at, and then it proved to be a cask. Whatever might be its contents, it was not empty. But I was pretty nice spent by the time I had knocked off the iron bands and beaten out staves enough to enable me to get at the frozen body within. There were three quarters of a cask full. It was sparkling clear ice and chipping off a piece and sucking it. I found it to be very sweet fresh water. Thus my labor rewarded. I cut off as much as when dissolved will make a couple of gallons, but stayed a minute to regain my breath and take a view of this well or hollow before going aft. It was formed of the great open head timbers of the schooner curving up to the stem, and by the four-castle deck ending like a cutty front. I scraped at this front and removed enough snow to exhibit a portion of a window. It was by this window, I suppose, that the four-castle was lighted. Out of this well forked the bow sprit, with the sprit sail yard braced fore and aft. The whole fabric close to looked more like glass than at a distance, owing to the million crystalline sparkles of the ice-like snow that coated the structure from the vein of the masthead to the keel. Well, I clambered on to the four-castle deck and returned to the cook room with my piece of ice. Struck as I went along by the sudden comfortable quality of life the gushing of the black smoke out of the chimney put into the ship, and how, indeed, it seemed to soften as if by magic the savage wildness and haggard austerity and gale-swept loneliness of the white rocks and peaks. It was extremely disagreeable and disconcerting to me to have to pass the ghastly occupants of the cabin every time I went in and out, and I made up my mind to get them on deck when I felt equal to the work, and cover them up there. The slanting posture of the one was sort of a fierce rebuke. The sleeping attitude of the other was a dark and sullen enjoyment of silence. I never passed them without a quick beat of the heart and shortened breathing, and the more I looked at them the keener became the superstitious alarm they excited. The fire burned brightly and its ruddy glow was sweet as human companionship. I put the ice into a saucepan and set it upon the fire. Then pulling the cheese and ham out of the oven found them warm and thawed. On smelling to the mouth of the jar I discovered its contents to be brandy. Only about an inch deep of it was melted. I poured this into a panicon and took us up. And a finer drop of spirits I never swallowed in all my life. Its elegant perfume proved it amazingly choice and old. I fetched a lemon and some sugar and speedily prepared a small smoking bowl of punch. The ham cut readily. I fried a couple of stout rashes and fell to the heartiest and most delicious repast I ever sat down to. At any time there is something fragrant and appetizing in the smell of fried ham. Conceived then the relish that the appetite of a starved half frozen ship direct man would find in it. The cheese was extremely good and was as sound as if it had been made a week ago. Indeed the preservative virtues of the cold struck me with astonishment. Here was I making a fine meal off stores which in all probability had lain in the ship fifty years and they ate as choicelessly as like food of a similar quality ashore. Possibly some of these days science may devise a means for keeping the stores of a ship frozen which would be as great a blessing as could befall the mariner and ashore remedy for the scurvy. For then as much fresh meat might be carried assault besides other articles of a perishable kind. End of chapter eleven Chapter twelve of the frozen pirate by W. Clark Russell This is a LibriVox recording. All LibriVox recordings are in the public domain. For more information or to volunteer please visit LibriVox.org. Recording by Mary Maxwell The Frozen Pirate by W. Clark Russell Chapter twelve A Lonely Night I had a pipe of my own in my pocket. I fetched a small block of the black tobacco that was in the pantry and with some trouble for it was as hard and dry as glass chipped off a bowlful and fell a puffing with all the satisfaction of a hardened lover of tobacco who has long been denied his favorite relish. The punch diffused a pleasing glow through my frame. The tobacco was lulling. The heat of the fire very soothing. The hearty meal I had eaten had also marvelously invigorated me so that I found my mind in a posture to justly and rationally consider my condition and to reason out such probabilities as seemed to be attached to it. First of all I reflected that by the usual operation of natural laws this vast seat of thrilling and thick ribbed ice in which the schooner laybound was steadily traveling to the northward wherein due course it would dissolve though that would not happen yet. But as it advanced so would it carry me nearer to the pathways of ships using these seas and any day might disclose a sail near enough to observe such signals of smoke or flag as I might best contrive. But supposing no opportunity of this kind to offer then I ought to be able to find in the vessel materials fit for the construction of a boat if indeed I met not with the penance of her own stowed under the main hatch for there was certainly no boat on deck. Nay, my meditations even carried me further. This was the winter season of the southern hemisphere but presently the sun would be coming my way whilst the ice on the other hand floated towards him. If by the wreck and dissolution of the island the schooner was not crushed she must be released in which case providing she was tight and my brief inspection of her bottom showed nothing wrong with her that was visible through the shroud of snow. I should have a stout ship under me in which I would be able to lie hoe of two or even make shift to sail her if the breeze came from the south and thus take my chance of being sighted and discovered. Much, I had almost said everything, depended on the quantity of provisions I should find in here and particularly on the stock of coal, for I feared I must perish if I had not a fire. But there was the hold to be explored yet, the navigation of these waters must have been anticipated by the men in the schooner who were sure to make handsome provision for the cold, and the sureer if, as I fancied, they were Spaniards. Certainly they might have exhausted their stock of coal but I could not persuade myself of this since the heap in the corner of the cook room somehow or other was suggestive of a store behind. I knew not yet whether more of the crew lay in the forecastle, but so far I had encountered four men only. If these were all, then it had a right to believe, grounding my fancy on the absence of boats, that most of the company had quitted the ship, and this they would have done early, a supposition that promised me a fair discovery of stores. Herein lay my hope, if I could prolong my life for three or four months, then, if the ice was not all gone, it would have advanced far north, serving me as a ship and putting me in the way of delivering myself, either by the sight of a sail, or by the schooner floating free, or by my construction of a boat. Thus I sat musing, as I ventured to think in a clear-headed way. Yet all the same I could not glance around without feeling as if I was bewitched. The red shining of the furnace readily gilded the cookhouse. Through the aftersliding door went the passage to the cabin in blackness. The storming of the wind was subdued into a strange moaning and complaining. Often through the body of the ship came the thrill of a sudden explosion, and haunting all was the sense of the deadman just without. The frozen desolation of the island, the mighty world of waters in which it lay. No, you can think of no isolation comparable to this, and I tremble as I review it, for under the thought of the enormous loneliness of that time my spirit must ever sink and break down. It was melancholy to be without time, so I pulled out the gold watch I had taken from the man on the rocks and wound it up, and, guessing at the hour, set the hands at half-past four. The watch ticked bravely. It was indeed a noble piece of mechanism, very costly and glorious with its jewels, and more than a hint as to the character of this schooner, and had been there nothing else to judge by I should still have sworn to her by this watch. My pipe being emptied I threw some more coals into the furnace, and putting a candle in the lanther and went af to take another view of the little cabins, in one of which I resolved to sleep. For though the cookroom would have served me best whilst the fire burned, I reckoned upon making a colder habitation when the furnace was black than the small compartments in the stern. The cold on deck gushed down so bitingly through the open companion-hatch that I was feigning to close it. I mounted the steps, and with much ado, shipped the cover and shut the door, by which, of course, the great cabin, as I call the room in which the two men were, was plunged into darkness, but the cold was not tolerable, and the parcels of candles in the larder rendered me indifferent to the gloom. On entering the passage in which were the doors of the berths I noticed an object that had before escaped my observation. I mean a small trap-hatch, no bigger than a manhole, with a ring for lifting it midway down the lane. I suspected this to be the entrance to the lazarette, and putting both hands to the ring pulled the hatch-up. I sniffed cautiously, fearing foul air, and then sinking the lanthorn by the length of my arm I peered down, and observed the outlines of casks, bales, cases of whitewood, chests, and so forth. I dropped through the hole onto a cask, which left me, my head, and shoulders above the deck, and then with the utmost caution, stooped, and threw the lanthorn light around me. But the casks were not powder barrels, which perhaps a little reflection might have led me to suspect, since it was not to be supposed that any man would still his powder in the lazarette. As I was in the way of settling my misgivings, touching the stock of food in the schooner, I resolved to push through with this business at once, and fetching the chopper went to work upon these barrels and chests, and very briefly I will tell you what I found. First, I dealt with a tierce that proved full of salt beef. There was a whole row of these tierces, and one suffice to express the nature of the rest. There were upwards of 30 barrels of pork, one canvas bale I ripped open was full of hands, and of these bails I counted half a score. The white cases held biscuit. There were several sacks of peace. A number of barrels of flour, cases of candles, cheeses, a quantity of tobacco, not to mention a variety of jars of several shapes, some of which I afterwards found to contain marmalade and succados of different kinds. On knocking the head off one cask, I found it held a frozen body, and that by the light of the lantern looked as black as ink. I chipped off a bit, sucked it, and found it wine. I was so transported by the sight of this wonderful plenty that I fell upon my knees in an outburst of gratitude and gave hearty thanks to God for His mercy. There was no further need for me to dismally wonder whether I was to starve or no. Supposing the provision sweet, here was food enough to last me three or four years. I was so overjoyed and with all curious that I forgot all about the time, and flourishing the chopper made the round of the lazarette, sampling its freight by individual instances, so that by the time I was tired I'd enlarge the list I'd given by discoveries of brandy, beer, oatmeal, oil, lemons, tongues, vinegar, rum, and eight or ten other matters all stowed very bunglingly and in so many different kinds of casks, cases, jars, and other vessels, as disposed me to believe that several piratical rummaging must have gone to the creation of this handsome and plentiful stock of good things. Well, thought I, even if there be no more coal in the ship than what lies in the cookhouse, enough fuel is here in the shape of casks, boxes, and the like to thaw me provisions for six months, besides what I may come across in the hold, along with the hammocks, bedding, boxes, and so forth in the forecastle, all of which would be good to feed my fire with. This was a most comforting reflection, and I recollect springing out through the lazarette hatch with a spirited caper as ever I had cut at any time in my life. I replaced the hatch cover, and having resolved upon the athmost of the four cabins as my bedroom, entered it to see what kind of accommodations it would yield me. I hung up the lanthorn and looked into the cot that was slung with wartships, and spied a couple of rugs or blankets, which I pulled out, having no fancy to lie under them. The deck was like an old clothes shop, or the wardrobe of a traveling troop of actors. From the confusion in this and the adjoining cabins, I concluded that there had been a rush at the last, a wild overhauling and flinging about of clothes for articles of more value hidden amongst them. But just as likely as not, the disorder merely indicated the slovenly indifference of plunderers to the fruits of a pillage that had overstocked them. The first garment I picked up was a cloak of a sort of silk material, richly furred and lined. All the buttons but one had been cut off, and that which remained was silver. I spread it in the cot as it was a soft thing to lie upon. Then I picked up a coat of the fashion you will see in Hogwarts engravings, the coat collar a broad fold, and the cuffs to the elbow. This was as good as a rug, and I put it into the cot with the other. I inspected others of the articles on the deck, and among them recollect a gold laced waistcoat of green velvet, two or three pairs of high-heeled shoes, a woman's yellow sack, several frizzled wigs, silk stockings, pumps, infine the contents of the trucks of some dandy passengers, long since gathered to their forefathers, no doubt, even if the gentlemen of the schooner had not then in there walked them overboard or split their windpipes. But to be honest I cannot remember a third of what lay tumbled upon the deck or hung against the bulkhead. So far as my knowledge of costume went, every article pointed to the date which I had fixed upon for this vessel. I swept the huddle of things with my foot into a corner, and lifting the lids of the boxes saw more clothes, some books, a collection of small arms, a couple of quadrants, and sundry rolls of paper which proved to be charts of the islands of the Antilles and the western South American coasts, very ill-digested. There were no papers of any kind to determine the vessel's character nor journal to equate me with their story. I was tired in my limbs rather than sleepy, and went to the cookroom to warm myself at the fire and get me some supper, meaning to sit there till the fire died out and then go to rest. But when I put my knife to the ham I found it as hard-frozen as when I had first met with it, so with the cheese, and this though there had been a fire burning for hours. I put the things into the oven to thaws before, and sitting down fell very pensive over the severity of cold, which had power to freeze within a yard or two of the furnace. To be sure the fire by my absence had shrunk, and the sliding door being open admitted the cold of the cabin. But the consideration was, how was I to resist the killing infuldement of this atmosphere? I had slept in the boat, it is true, and was none the worse. And now I was under shelter with the heat of a plentiful belly full of meat and liquor to warm me. But if wine and ham and cheese froze in an air in which a fire had been burning, why not I in my sleep, when there was no fire, and life beat weakly as it does in slumber? Those figures in the cabin, dismal warnings and assurances, they had been men perhaps stouter and heartier in their day than ever I was, but they had been frozen into stony images nonetheless, under cover too, with the materials to make a fire, and as much strong waters in their lazarette as would serve their schooner to float in. Well, I thought, after a spell of melancholy thinking, if I am to perish of cold, there's an end. It is preordained, and it is as easy as drowning anyhow, and better than hanging. And with that I pulled out the ham and found it soft enough to cut, finding philosophy, which, as the French cynic says, triumphs over past and future ills, not so hard, because somehow I did not myself then particularly feel the cold. I mean, I was not certainly suffering here from that pain of frost which I had felt in the open boat. Having heartily sucked, I brewed a pint of punch, and charging my pipe set smoking with my feet against the furnace. It was after eight o'clock by the watch I was wearing. I knew by the humming noise that it was blowing a gale of wind outside, and from time to time the decks rattled to a heavy discharge of hail. All sounds were naturally much subdued to my ear by the ship lying in a hollow, and I being in her with the hatches closed. But this very faintness of uproar formed of itself a quality of mystery very packed to the gasliness of my surroundings. It was like the notes of an elfin storm of necromantic imagination. It was hollow, weak, and terrifying, and it and the thunder of the seas co-mingling together with the rumbling blasts and shots of splitting ice, disjointed as by an earthquake, loaded the inner silence with unearthly tones, which by my lonely and quickened imagination readily furnished with syllables. The lanthorn diffused but a small light, and the flickering of the fire made a movement of shadows about me. I was separated from the great cabin where the figures were by the little arms room only, and the passage to it ran there in blackness. It strangely and importantly entered my head to conceive that though those men were frozen and stirless, they were not dead as corpses are, but as a stream whose current, checked by ice, will flow when the ice is melted. Might not life in them be suspended by the cold, not ended? There is vitality in the seed though it lies a dead thing in the hand. Those men are corpses to my eye, but said I to myself they may have the principles of life in them, which heat might call into being. Future faction is a natural law, but it is bulked by frost, and just as decay is hindered by cold, might not the property of life be left unaffected in body though it should be numbed in a marble form for fifty years? This was a terrible fancy to possess a man situated as I was, and it so worked in me that again and again I caught myself looking first forward, then aft, as though heaven helped me my secret instincts foreboded that at any moment I should behold some form from the forecastle, or one of those figures in the cabin, stalking in, and coming to my side and silently seating himself. I poshawed and pished, and queriously asked of myself what manner of English sailor was I to suffer such womanly terrors to visit me, but it would not do. I could not smoke. A coldness of the heart fell upon me and set me trembling above any sort of shivers which the frost of the air had chased through me, and presently a hollow creek sounding out of the hold caused by some movement of the bed of ice on which the vessel lay. I was seized with a panic terror and sprang to my feet, and lanthorn in hand made for the companion ladder with a prayer in me for the sight of a star. I dust not look at the figures, but setting the light down at the foot of the ladder squeezed through the companion door onto the deck. My fear was a fever in its way, and I did not feel the cold. There was no star to be seen, but the whiteness of the ice was flung out in a wild strange glare by the blackness of the sky and made a light of its own. It was the most savage and terrible picture of solitude the invention of man could reach to, yet I blessed it for the relief it gave to my ghosting kindled imagination. No squall was then passing. The rocks rose up on either hand and ghastly glimmer to the ebony of the heavens. The gale swept overhead in a wild, mad blending of whistlings, roaring and crying in many keys, falling on a sudden into a dull full wailing, then rising in a breath to the full fury of its concert. The sea thundered like the cannonating of an electric storm, and you would have said that the rending and crackling noises of the ice were responses to the crashing blows of the balls of shadow-hidden ordinance. But the scene, the uproar, the voices of the wind were real. A better cordial to my spirits than a gallon of the mellowest vintage below, and presently when the cold was beginning to pierce me, my courage was so much the better for this excursion into the hoarse and black and gleaming realities of the night, that my heart beat at its usual measure as I passed through the hatch and went again to the cook room. I was, however, sure that if I sat here long listening and thinking fear would return. A small fire still burned, I put a saucepan on it, and popped in a piece of the freshwater ice. But on handling the brandy I found it hard set. The heat of the oven was not sufficiently great to thaw me a dram. So to save further trouble in this way I took the chopper and at one blow split open the jar, and then there lay before me the solid body of the brandy, from which I chipped off as much as I needed, and thus procured a hot and animating drop. Raking out the fire I picked up the lanthorn and was about to go, then halted, considering whether I should not stow the frozen provisions away. It was a natural thought seeing how precious food was to me. But, alas, it mattered not where they lay. They were as secure here as if they were snugly hidden in the bottom of the hold. It was the white realm of death. If ever a rat had crawled in this ship, it was, in its hiding place, as stiff and idle as the frozen vessel. So I let the lump of brandy, the ice, ham, and so forth rest where they were, and went to the cabin I had chosen, involuntarily peeping at the figures as I passed, and hurrying the faster because of the grim and terrifying libeliness put into the man who sat starting from the table by the swing of the lanthorn in my hand. I shut the door and hung the lanthorn near the cot, having the flint and box in my pocket. There was indeed an abundance of candles in the vessel. Nevertheless it was my business to husband them with the utmost niggerliness. How long I was to be imprisoned here, if indeed I was ever to be delivered, Providence alone knew, and to run short of candles would add to the terrors of my existence, by forcing me either to open the hatches and ports for light, and so filling the ship with the deadly air outside were living in darkness. There were a cloak and a coat in the cot, but they were not suffice. The fine cloak I had taken from the man on the rocks was on the deck, and till now I had forgotten it. There was, however, plenty of apparel in the corner to serve as wraps, and having chosen enough to smother me, I vaulted into the cot, and so covered myself that the clothes were above the level of the sides of the cot. I left the lanthorn burning whilst I made sure my bed was all right, and lay me using, feeling extremely melancholy. The hardest part was the thought of those two men watching in the cabin. The most fantastic alarms possessed me. Suppose their ghosts came to the ship at midnight and entering their bodies quickened them into walking. Suppose they were in the condition of cataleptics, sensible of what passed around them but paralyzed to the motionlessness and seeming insensibility of death. Then the very garments under which I lay were of a proper kind to keep a man in my situation quaking. My imagination went to work to tell me to whom they had belonged. The bloody ends their owners had met at the hands of the miscreants who despoiled them. I caught myself listening, and there was enough to hear, too, what with the subdued roaring of the wind, the splintering of ice, the occasional creaking, not unlike a heavy-booted tread of the fabric of the schooner, to the blasts of the gale against her mass, or to a movement in the bed on which she reposed. But plain sense came to my rescue at last. I resolved to have no more of these night fears. So, blowing out the candle, I put my head on the coat that formed my pillow, resolutely kept my eyes shut, and after a while, fell asleep. End of chapter 12