Rescued!—On board the “Laplander” whaler, which is nearly full, and expects soon to return home.—Max Inkster tries to undermine Archy’s good resolutions, but the latter remembers that “a friend in need is a friend indeed.”—Sail for home.—A tempting channel appearing, it is entered, but the ship is nipped, and the “Laplander” is abandoned.—Escape to the floe with only a few clothes and provisions, when a plan is formed for reaching the coast of Greenland.

The boat had some distance to pull before a spot could be found where she could safely approach the ice on the lee side of the floe.

Max and the two other men, regardless of their almost dead companions in the hut, were hurrying down towards her, when Andrew called them back. “Shame on you,” he exclaimed. “Would you leave the poor fellows to perish for the sake of sooner putting food into your own mouths? Come, help them along, they want it more than we do.”

The men thus summoned, returned and assisted Andrew and Archy, who were dragging their nearly insensible shipmates over the ice. At length they reached the edge, and were cordially welcomed by the crew of the boat, who made all speed to return to their ship the “Laplander.” She was almost full, they said, and they hoped soon to return home.

The rescued men, on being lifted on board, were at once put under the doctor’s care,—for even Andrew and Archy, who had hitherto held out so bravely, felt all their strength leave them directly they reached the boat. They, however, in a couple of days were sufficiently recovered to go on deck and mix with the crew.

Archy found the “Laplander” a very different vessel to the “Kate.” The captain was a bold brave seaman, but he was nothing else. There were no Sunday services, no prayer-meetings, no lending library of religious books, but there was much swearing and ungodliness among the crew.

Max, who quickly forgot the fearful danger in which he had been placed, and his providential preservation, did his utmost to laugh Archy out of his good resolutions.

“I wonder a lad of spirit like you can listen to the long sermons of old Andrew,” he said to him one day while Andrew was out of hearing. “I never could stand those preaching fellows.”

“But Andrew kept his courage up, and did his best to preserve my life, while you and the rest gave way to despair,” answered Archy. “You cannot say that he is not a brave man, though he does preach long sermons.”

“Yes, he is brave, I’ll allow,” said Max.

“Then tell me, what do you think makes him brave?” asked Archy.

“He is naturally brave, I suppose,” replied Max.

“Now, I think that it is because he trusts in God, and believes that God will take care of him,” said Archy firmly. “And he knows that if he should lose his life that he will go to heaven. That’s my opinion of the matter.”

“Your opinion, indeed,” exclaimed Max scornfully. “I should like to know what business a fellow like you has to form an opinion,” and Max turned away, unable further to answer the boy, whom he had hitherto so easily led. He took every opportunity after this of annoying Archy, and incited his godless companions to do the same.

Archy often wished that he was on board the “Kate” again, and anxiously looked out in the hopes of falling in with her. The captain had been much put out by the loss of the whale and two lines when they had been rescued, and seemed to associate them in some way with the circumstance. A few days afterwards the watch below were aroused with the welcome cry of “a fall! a fall!” a whale was fast. The remaining boats pulled away, and in a few hours the captain’s good humour was restored by having the whale alongside. All hands were now in high spirits. “One fish more, and hurrah for old England,” was the cry.

Several days passed away without any further success. In vain Andrew and Archy looked out for the “Kate.” The season was advancing, still the captain of the “Laplander,” anxious to get a full ship, cruised backwards and forwards in the hopes of killing one fish more. At length that object was attained, but one of the boats was knocked to pieces, and two of her crew drowned. The huge monster was secured alongside with all haste, the blubber was got on board, and the instant the carcase was cut adrift, the crew giving three shouts of joy at being full, sail was made, and the ship stood to the southward.

The ice, as she proceeded, gathered thickly around her. Boldly, however, she pushed on through the passages which appeared between the floes. Now she was threading a narrow lane of water, now sailing across an open lake, but still on every side appeared those threatening fields of ice, which might at any moment enclose her in their deadly embrace. The captain, or one of the mates, was constantly in the crow’s-nest, looking out for the most open passages ahead, through which the ship might be steered.

They had sailed on for some distance, when the ice on either side was seen to be moving. A tempting channel, however, appeared before them. The “Laplander” sailed into it. She had scarcely entered when the opposite floes began to approach each other. Still the breeze was strong and fair, and the captain hoped that he might be able to push through into an open space beyond before they could close. Nearer and nearer they came to each other, till the broad passage assumed the appearance of a narrow canal. It was at length seen that escape was impossible. The sails were furled, the ship was secured to the floe on one side, and an attempt was made to cut a dock in which she might remain while the inevitable concussion took place. Almost before the ice-saws could be got out and set to work, a loud crashing roaring sound was heard. The floes meeting with terrific force, vast masses rose up in the air, huge fragments being thrown upon each other, till in one instant a ridge, reaching almost to the height of the ship’s tops, was formed. The seamen, not waiting for the captain’s orders, seized their bags and bedding, and whatever they could lay hands on, and leaped out on the ice.

“Follow me, Archy,” cried Andrew, seizing a bag of biscuits, and throwing a couple of blankets over his shoulder. “In another minute the ship may be crushed to fragments.”

Archy lowered himself down with Andrew on to the ice, and with the rest of the crew they hurried away from the ship. Scarcely had they left her when the floes closed in, and vast masses of ice were seen rising up around her, the rending and crashing sound of her stout timbers telling them too plainly of her fate. Not till they had got some distance did the fugitives venture to stop and watch what was going forward. The masts were seen to totter, and large fragments of wreck were thrown on either side over the surface. The captain, as he saw the destruction of his vessel, wrung his hands with despair, while dismay was depicted on the countenances of his crew. So sudden had been the nip, that except the clothes on their backs and the bedding they carried under their arms, nothing had been saved. As yet too, the danger of approaching the wreck was too great to allow of the attempt being made, for the ice, pressing closer and closer, continued to throw up vast slabs, beneath which any one going near the spot might in an instant have been crushed. Suddenly the tall masts fell with a crash, and the whole upper part of the ship was cast in fragments on to the ice. For several minutes the seamen stood aghast, till the floes having accomplished their work, remained at rest. Andrew was the first to speak.

“Lads,” he said, “I have seen this sort of thing occur before, and I and all with me reached home in safety, so may we now if we exert ourselves; may be the boats have escaped, and the provisions and stores may have been thrown up on the ice. I for one am ready to go back to the wreck and see what has been saved.”

Several of the men agreed to accompany Andrew, and they made their way among the masses of ice which strewed the surface. Their search was in part satisfactory. Two of the boats had escaped injury, while their chests and a large portion of the provisions and stores which had been on the upper deck, were found scattered about. The officers, arousing themselves, now followed the example which Andrew had set. While one party were employed in collecting provisions, another cut the sails from the yards, which had been thrown on the ice, and erected tents in which they might shelter themselves from the piercing wind. Others chopped up wood, and fires were lighted. Some time was thus occupied, and at length an encampment was formed, with all the stores and provisions which had been collected piled up around, and the weary seamen were able to rest from their labours. A consultation was now held as to the means to be taken for preserving their lives. The boats could only carry a portion of their number, even should the ice again open and allow them to escape. As far as could be seen, it had closed in on every side, and probably they would have to drag them many long leagues before the open water could be gained. The land, by the captain’s calculation, was upwards of fifty miles away, but the Danish settlements, where they could obtain assistance, were much further off. At the same time, it was possible that they might find another vessel fast in the ice nearer at hand, which might afford them shelter. One thing only was certain, that they must lose no time in making preparations for their journey. Unhappily, the captain, disheartened by the destruction of his ship, was incapable of exerting himself. Although a good seaman, he was destitute of that higher courage which a confidence in God’s superintending care can alone give. He sat in his tent, with his head resting on his hands, for many hours, gazing toward the wreck, without issuing any orders. The officers differed from each other as to what was best to be done, while many of the crew exhibited a mutinous disposition, and assembled altogether in a tent which they had erected for themselves. Collecting a quantity of the smaller fragments of the wreck, they made up a large fire within, around which they sat, cooking some of the provisions which they had appropriated from the common store.

Archy, from the time of leaving the ship, had kept close to Andrew, and assisted him in whatever work he was engaged on. While, however, he was collecting wood at a short distance from the camp, Max came up to him.

“Well, Archy,” he said, “I see old Andrew intends to make you work for him; that’s his reason for keeping you by his side. Now, boy, if I were you I would not be led by the nose. Come and join us. I’ll own I had a hand in getting you into this scrape, and I wish to help you out of it. I and some of the other men have formed a plan to make our escape, and it’s my opinion that those who remain here will lose their lives. That can’t be helped, you see, for it’s impossible that all should be saved, and as I am your friend I don’t wish to leave you behind. Come along now, we have got a roaring fire inside there, and the fellows will let you join them if I ask them.” Max pointed to the tent of the mutineers.

“I promised to stay by Andrew,” said Archy. “Unless he goes I can’t join you.”

“I’ll see about asking him by-and-bye,” said Max.

“What do you propose doing, then?” asked Archy.

“Making off with the boats,” answered Max. “It’s the only chance we have of saving our lives, and we shall be sure to reach one of the Danish places on the coast.”

“What, you would not desert old Andrew?” exclaimed Archy.

“Oh, of course not,” answered Max, in a tone which made Archy suspect him, especially when he added, “Mark me, my lad, if you let old Andrew or any of the rest know of what I have been saying to you, there are some among us who would not scruple a moment to knock you on the head. Remember my words. I ask you again, will you come with us?”

“No,” answered Archy firmly. “I promised to stick by Andrew, and I am not going to desert him.”

“Then take the consequences,” exclaimed Max angrily, “and remember, hold your tongue, or it will be the worse for you.”

Archy saw him return to the tent; but the men who crowded round the fire seemed very unwilling to allow him a place among them, and Archy suspected that had he listened to Max he should have had very little chance of getting near it either.

On rejoining Andrew, Archy refrained from mentioning what Max had said, as there were several other persons within hearing, and, indeed, not till some time afterwards did he find his friend alone. Andrew, with some of the better disposed men, and a few of the officers, had taken up their quarters in a tent, and were now collected round a fire in the centre of it, though a much smaller one than that formed by the men. Andrew made room for Archy by his side. While they were discussing their supper, they agreed that they would form a number of sledges with runners for the boats, and placing the provisions and tents, with guns and ammunition on them, and such other stores as they might require, set off without further delay for the land. No one seemed to suspect the treachery meditated by Max and his party. The carpenter’s chest had fortunately been saved, and while one party assisted him in collecting wood and forming the sledges and runners, others were engaged in doing up the provisions and stores in packages of a size suitable for being carried on the sledges. The mutineers even assisted, and were especially busy in fitting runners to the boats.

Some progress had been made in the work, when night coming on compelled them to desist from their labours, and take shelter in their respective tents. Archy, as he lay down to sleep, began to think that in spite of the threats of Max he ought to have told Andrew what he had said.

“To-morrow morning will be time enough,” he thought, and he was soon asleep.