Anything more bitter and disagreeable than the icy blast,which caught me round the waist as I emerged from the companion I never remember.With both hands occupied in levelling the telescope,I could not keep the wind from blowing the loose wrap quite off my shoulders,and except for the name of the thing,I might just as well have been standing in my shirt.Indeed,I was so irresistibly struck with my own resemblance to a coloured print I remember in youthful days,--representing that celebrated character "Puss in Boots,"with a purple robe of honour streaming far behind him on the wind,to express the velocity of his magical progress--that I laughed aloud while I shivered in the blast.What with the spray and mist,moreover,it was a good ten minutes before I could make out the writing,and when at last I did spell out the letters,their meaning was not very inspiriting:"Nous retournons a Reykjavik!"So evidently they had given it up as a bad job,and had come to the conclusion that the island was inaccessible.Yet it seemed very hard to have to turn back,after coming so far!We had already made upwards of three hundred miles since leaving Iceland:it could not be much above one hundred and twenty or one hundred and thirty more to Jan Mayen;and although things looked unpromising,there still seemed such a chance of success,that I could not find it in my heart to give in;so,having run up a jack at the fore--all writing on our board was out of the question,we were so deluged with spray--I jumped down to wake Fitzgerald and Sigurdr,and tell them we were going to cast off,in case they had any letters to send home.In the meantime,I scribbled a line of thanks and good wishes to M.de la Ronciere,and another to you,and guyed it with our mails on board the corvette--in a milk can.
In the meantime all was bustle on board our decks,and I think every one was heartily pleased at the thoughts of getting the little schooner again under canvas.Acouple of reefs were hauled down in the mainsail and staysail,and everything got ready for ****** sail.
"Is all clear for'ard for slipping,Mr.Wyse?""Ay,ay,Sir;all clear!"
"Let go the tow-ropes!"
"All gone,Sir!"
And down went the heavy hawsers into the sea,up fluttered the staysail,--then--poising for a moment on the waves with the startled hesitation of a bird suddenly set free,--the little creature spread her wings,thrice dipped her ensign in token of adieu--receiving in return a hearty cheer from the French crew--and glided like a phantom into the North,while the "Reine Hortense"puffed back to Iceland.[Footnote:It subsequently appeared that the "Saxon,"on the second day after leaving Onunder Fiord,had unfortunately knocked a hole in her bottom against the ice,and was obliged to run ashore in a sinking state.In consequence of never having been rejoined by her tender,the "Reine Hortense"found herself short of coals;and as the encumbered state of the sea rendered it already very unlikely that any access would be found open to the island,M.de la Ronciere very properly judged it advisable to turn back.He re-entered the Reykjavik harbour without so much as a shovelful of coals left on board.]
Ten minutes more,and we were the only denizens of that misty sea.I confess I felt excessively sorry to have lost the society of such joyous companions;they had received us always with such merry good nature;the Prince had shown himself so gracious and considerate,and he was surrounded by a staff of such clever,well-informed persons,that it was with the deepest regret I watched the fog close round the magnificent corvette,and bury her--and all whom she contained--within its bosom.Our own situation,too,was not altogether without causing me a little anxiety.We had not seen the sun for two days;it was very thick,with a heavy sea,and dodging about as we had been among the ice,at the heels of the steamer,our dead reckoning was not very much to be depended upon.The best plan I thought would be to stretch away at once clear of the ice,then run up into the latitude of Jan Mayen,and--as soon as we should have reached the parallel of its northern extremity--bear down on the land.If there was any access at all to the island,it was very evident it would be on its northern or eastern side;and now that we were alone,to keep on knocking up through a hundred miles or so of ice in a thick fog,in our fragile schooner,would have been out of the question.
The ship's course,therefore,having been shaped in accordance with this view,I stole back into bed and resumed my violated slumbers.Towards mid-day the weather began to moderate,and by four o'clock we were skimming along on a smooth sea,with all sails set.This state of prosperity continued for the next twenty-four hours;we had made about eighty knots since parting company with the Frenchman,and it was now time to run down West and pick up the land.Luckily the sky was pretty clear,and as we sailed on through open water I really began to think our prospects very brilliant.But about three o'clock on the second day,specks of ice began to flicker here and there on the horizon,then larger bulks came floating by in forms as picturesque as ever--(one,Iparticularly remember,a human hand thrust up out of the water with outstretched forefinger,as if to warn us against proceeding farther),until at last the whole sea became clouded with hummocks that seemed to gather on our path in magical multiplicity.
