"You cannot imagine how grand this storm scene was,--the wind howling around us, the snowdrifts whirling about and spinning over the icy plain, the moon gleaming brightly upon the snow and the icebergs and the island, and every now and then a great blaze of many colors that were reflected on everything about us, would start up from the auroral arch, until the light became almost as great for a few moments as if it were broad day. It was very fearful, and you may be sure that we hastened on to the hut as fast as we could, though we were not in such a great hurry as to be wholly insensible to the magnificence of the scene.

"After we had reached the hut, the Dean repeated some verses which he had picked up somewhere; and when I recite them for you, you will see how appropriate they were to what I have been describing, and how strange seemed to us our situation when we found ourselves in the very place where the poet had imagined the Northwest wind to have a beginning.

"The Nor'west wind is a spirit brave, And he cometh from afar; He is cradled far down in the depths that yawn Beneath the polar star.

"Where no mortal foot hath been, he maketh His track o'er the snowy plain; And listens the tread of phantoms dread, With banner and spear and flame.

"Where the billows are booming on frozen sh.o.r.e, O there right kingly is he!

His pinnacled throne the iceberg lone, His empire the boundless sea.

"He rideth aloft on the mountain-tops,-- Rare sport doth he meet with there; He spinneth the snow in lightning flow, Till it gleams like a witch's hair."

"O the Nor'west wind is a spirit brave, A conquering hero is he; And his fierce battle song, as he marcheth along, Is the shout of victory."

"O, how beautiful and appropriate!" exclaimed the children.

"But," said William, "how did you get to the island?"

"Without any other accident," replied the Captain, "than with two frozen noses, which were sore for a long time afterwards. But, after it was all over, we would not have missed the sight for anything, it was so grand; yet, had we been caught out on the sea a little farther from the hut, we should never have got back, but both of us must have perished.

"Thus you see how Providence continued to watch over the two poor castaways."

CHAPTER XVI.

Covers a Long Period of Time, and shows, among other Things, how a Race may be lost at Both Ends.

"I must now tell you," continued the Captain, "that, while all these adventures were happening, the winter was pa.s.sing steadily away; and, from what I have before told you about the Arctic seasons, you will know that when the winter came finally to an end the darkness came to an end too,--that is, to be more particular, first there was a little flush of light at noon, to see which made us very glad, you may be sure; after this, from day to day, the light grew brighter and brighter, until it was almost broad daylight, as it is here just before the sun has risen in the morning; then the sun came up a few days afterward only a little way above the horizon (of course right in the south); and then, next day, it was a little higher, and the next day a little higher still; and then, by and by, it was (as it had been in the summer-time before) circling round and round us, shining all the while; and now our hut was at midnight in the shadow of the cliff; at noon the sun was blazing down upon us, softening the snow, and making our hearts, O, how happy and thankful!--more so than I can tell you.

"I thought that never in all my life had I seen anything so splendid as the sun's bright face when he appeared for the first time after this long dark winter. For you must know we were about one hundred and twenty days without once setting eyes upon the sun at all; and now, when he did rise, after this long interval, what could we do but take off our caps and whirl them round and round our heads, in very joy and gladness? and this I can a.s.sure you we did with many a good round cheer.

"The summer now came on steadily, and the temperature became warmer every day. The spring glided into summer, and early in the month of June the snow began to melt in good earnest, and by July great streams were dashing and roaring over the cliffs, and through the gorges, to the sea.

Then the sea soon began to show the influence of the summer heat. The ice grew rotten, and, from being white, it got to be quite dark; and we could no longer go out upon it with any safety, except in one particular direction, towards the east, where it was much thicker than in any other place. Then strong winds came, and the rotten ice was broken up, and after that it went drifting here and there to right and left, up and down upon the sea, whichever way the winds were blowing.

"And now once more we kept a sharp lookout for ships, hoping all the time that 'this day will be the day of our deliverance.' But we lived on as we had done before,--every day adding one more disappointment to the list,--for no ship came. Thus watching, waiting, hoping on, we grew restless with anxiety, and were more unhappy than we had ever been in the gloomy winter that had pa.s.sed away.

"But the summer brought some pleasure to us. As soon as the snow had gone, the gra.s.s grew green upon the hillside, and the tiny little plants put out their leaves, and then the tiny little flowers were blooming brightly, and turning up their pleasant faces to the ever-smiling sun.

"And then the birds came back,--the eider-ducks, and the little auks, that I have told you of, and great flocks of geese and gulls, all looking out for places in which to make their nests; and they fairly kept the air alive with the flutter of their wings, and their 'quack, quack, quack,' and their gladsome screams, as they hurried to and fro.

"And then bright yellow b.u.t.terflies and little bees came fluttering and buzzing about the little flowers, and all was life and happiness and brightness in the air about us; but there was no one there to look at us and see how heavy were our hearts at times,--no one but G.o.d.

"But not on our desert island alone was nature full of life and gayety.

The seals, as if glad that summer had once more returned, crawled out upon the ice, and lay there on it, where it floated in the water, basking in the sun. There were hundreds and hundreds of them to be seen almost every day; and, besides the seals, the walruses, with their great long hideous-looking tusks and ugly and ungraceful bodies, came up too; and the narwhals, also, with their long ivory horns, and the white whales, were to be seen at almost any time, 'spouting' round about us in the sea. And besides all this life in the sea, and in the air, and on the land, we now and then saw a great white bear prowling about upon the floating ice-fields, seeking seals to feed upon; and, when tired of one ice-field, he would jump into the water, and swim away and crawl up on another.

"Thus you observe that, if we were upon a desert island in the Arctic Sea, it was not so barren as one would think who had never seen anything of such a place.

"It is not worth while for me to tell you how we lived through this second summer. Of course we had a much easier time of it than we had had the summer previous, for there was no hut to build, and we had now leisure to make ourselves more comfortable; and indeed we used our time so well that we acc.u.mulated, in good season, everything we needed in the way of food and fuel,--catching the birds and other animals as before, which we stowed away in so many different places that we felt quite sure the bears would not be likely to discover all of them; and then we made fresh suits of fine fur clothes, and fresh fur bedding, and carved new lamps and pots and cups out of soapstone, that we might be safe against all accidents.

"While we were thus working, and watching all the time for ships, without the hoped-for ship ever coming, the summer pa.s.sed away, the birds flew off once more with the setting sun, the sea froze up all around the island, and we were left again alone,--all, all alone, in the cold and snow and darkness of another winter.

"O how heavy were our hearts now! Bright had been our hopes of rescue; great was our disappointment, and unhappy the prospect before us. For a time we were very despondent; but the darkest hour, you know, is just before the break of day, and we were experiencing now only one more of our many periods of gloom with daybreak following; for when the winter fairly sealed up the sea around us, and covered everything with snow, we felt the same spirit of resignation in our lives that had before carried us through so many trials and difficulties. And in this we were a great support to each other. If our hearts were more than commonly heavy at any time, we tried all we could to disguise it from each other, and tried always to be as cheerful as possible. If we had each always carried a gloomy face about with him, I am sure both of us must have died. Thus you see how important is the spirit of cheerfulness; and, to tell the truth, I haven't much opinion of long-faced people anyway, whether they live on rocky islands or in big houses or in little huts,--whether they are old or young, rich or poor, civilized or savage, Christian or pagan. That's my opinion.

"Well, this winter pa.s.sed over just as the other had done;--the same routine of work and hunting, the same cold and darkness, the same constant bearing up against our unhappy fortunes. It did not in any particular differ from the other in a manner worthy of mention, except that no bears came this time to disturb us. But there was the same aurora borealis, the same bright starlight and brighter moonlight, the same fierce snows and howling gales. We caught foxes and seals as we had done before, and wanted not for food or fuel. Our health was still always good.

"So you see there is no occasion for our halting over this period. I can tell you nothing new about it. The winter came to an end, as everything must, in time; the sun came back; the summer followed the winter; and this, our third summer on the Rock of Good Hope, pa.s.sed away like the others, with its bright sunshine, and its pretty b.u.t.terflies and flowers, and myriads of birds, but still no ship, and still no rescue."

After the Captain had thus spoken, he paused as if to consider whether he had omitted anything, in connection with the long period they had pa.s.sed on the island, that would make it worth his while to dwell longer upon any portion of his story up to this time. Satisfied always of the deep interest and close attention of his young auditors, he thought only of selecting such points of the narrative as seemed to him likely to convey most pleasure and instruction to the little people, who, ever eager to listen, were yet always curious to have something cleared up which the Captain had hastily pa.s.sed over, thinking little of it. But still they had the good sense to see (to say nothing of the requirements of politeness) that they were not likely to be much benefited by interrupting the Captain; for if they asked questions in the midst of his story he would, in all probability, be put out, and lose the even thread of his narration. But a question, or perhaps a volley of them, was always sure to come if the Captain made a pause, or as he, in mariner phrase, expressed it, lay "hove to," for a little while.

So it was now. No sooner had the Captain stopped his speech, and got into the reflective mood, than William's tongue was loosened.

"O Captain Hardy!" said he, "don't go on until you have told us something more about those curious little flowers you have been speaking of. It is so odd to think of flowers growing in such a desert place!"

"O, do!" exclaimed little Alice, "O, do, do, Captain Hardy! they must be such pretty little things! But I don't see how they ever get any chance to grow, when it is so cold and dreary. How do they?"

"Pretty they are indeed, my dear," replied the kind-hearted Captain, pleased to have the question asked, as was evident, "and very wonderful.

How they managed to grow is more than I can tell, and is just as astonishing to me as to yourselves. The snow, however, in the spring went pretty quickly; and as soon as the earth was free in any place, then we saw the tiniest flowers you ever saw coming up, seemingly right out of the frozen earth, and almost underneath the very snow,--at least within a few inches of it. The Dean and I one day came across one of these little flowers, looking just like a b.u.t.tercup, only the whole plant was--well, the littlest thing you ever did see. Why, it was so little that little Alice's little thimble, with which she is learning to sew so prettily, would have been quite large enough for a flower-pot to put the whole of it in! and it would have grown there, too,--and glad enough, no doubt. There was a great snow-bank hanging right over it, and there was ice all around it. But still it looked s.p.u.n.ky, and happy, and well contented, and seemed quite able to take care of itself.

"As we walked on towards the hut, I noticed that the Dean grew very thoughtful.

"'What's the matter, Dean?' said I; 'what are you thinking about?'

"'About that little flower,' replied the Dean.

"At this I laughed, asking the Dean what there was in the little flower to think about.

"'A great deal,' said he.

"I laughed again, and asked him what it was.

"'Why,' said he, very soberly, 'it is a lesson to us not to get the blues any more. If that poor flower can live and fight its way against such odds, I think we ought to!'

"Now there was more in that observation of the thoughtful little Dean than you would think for; and we talked a great deal about the little flower,--indeed, it came up between us very often; we went back many times to it, and watched it closely. Once there came a snow-storm and buried it up; but next day the snow was all melted, and the leaves came out as green, and the flower as yellow, and the whole plant as plucky, as ever. I should say the flower was about as large round as a very small pea, and it was just as yellow as gold; and the whole wee thing was not taller than a common-sized pin.

"We talked so much about this little flower that we got to making rhymes about it; and, every time we made a new rhyme, we were much delighted, you may be sure. How we wished we had some way to write down what we thought! It would have been much easier, and a great satisfaction. But, for all that, we finally got quite a song of it, which I have not forgotten, even to this time. To be sure we did not know much about making verses, and nothing at all about what they call 'feet' in poetry; yet we got some pretty good rhymes for all, though they might be called a little worm-fency, or like as if they hadn't got their sea-legs on, you know. Now, would you like to hear this little song that the Dean and I made about the little Arctic flower?"

"O yes, yes, dear Captain Hardy!--yes, yes, indeed!" said the children, in such a loud and universal chorus that n.o.body could have told who "deared" the Captain, or who said "O," or who, "indeed"; but you may be sure they all said "yes!" and so the Captain, being thus encouraged, cleared his throat, and said he would repeat it.

"My impression is," he continued, "that it isn't exactly a song; in fact, I don't know what it is. I should hardly venture on calling it a 'poem,' you see; but still, for all that, we must give it a name, you know, and 'song,' 'poem,' or what not, its right t.i.tle anyhow is:--

THE ARCTIC FLOWER.