to set again. And here is another of those awful
gales. Will it be my very last? all alone here,—who
have done so much,—and if they would only
take care of me I can do so much more. Will nobody
come? Nobody?.... What! Is it ice blink,—are
my poor old lookouts blind? Is not there the
‘Intrepid’? Dear ‘Intrepid,’
I will never look down on you again! No! there
is no smoke-stack, it is not the ‘Intrepid.’
But it is somebody. Pray see me, good somebody.
Are you a Yankee whaler? I am glad to see the
Yankee whalers, I remember the Yankee whalers very
pleasantly. We had a happy summer together once....
It will be dreadful if they do not see me! But
this ice, this wretched ice! They do see me,—I
know they see me, but they cannot get at me. Do
not go away, good Yankees; pray come and help me.
I know I can get out, if you will help a little....
But now it is a whole week and they do not come!
Are there any Yankees, or am I getting crazy?
I have heard them talk of crazy old ships, in my young
days.... No! I am not crazy. They are
coming! they are coming. Brave Yankees! over
the hummocks, down into the sludge. Do not give
it up for the cold. There is coal below, and we
will have a fire in the Sylvester, and in the captain’s
cabin.... There is a horrid lane of water.
They have not got a Halkett. O, if one of these
boats of mine would only start for them, instead of
lying so stupidly on my deck here! But the men
are not afraid of water! See them ferry over on
that ice block! Come on, good friends! Welcome,
whoever you be,—Dane, Dutch, French, or
Yankee, come on! come on! It is coming up a gale,
but I can bear a gale. Up the side, men.
I wish I could let down the gangway alone. But
here are all these blocks of ice piled up,—you
can scramble over them! Why do you stop?
Do not be afraid. I will make you very comfortable
and jolly. Do not stay talking there. Pray
come in. There is port in the captain’s
cabin, and a little preserved meat in the pantry.
You must be hungry; pray come in! O, he is coming,
and now all four are coming. It would be dreadful
if they had gone back! They are on deck.
Now I shall go home! How lonely it has been!”
It was true enough that when Mr. Quail, the brother
of the captain of the “McLellan,” whom
the “Resolute” had befriended, the mate
of the George Henry, whaler, whose master, Captain
Buddington, had discovered the “Resolute”
in the ice, came to her after a hard day’s journey
with his men, the men faltered with a little superstitious
feeling, and hesitated for a minute about going on
board. But the poor lonely ship wooed them too
lovingly, and they climbed over the broken ice and
came on deck. She was lying over on her larboard
side, with a heavy weight of ice holding her down.
Hatches and companion were made fast, as Captain Kellett
had left them. But, knocking open the companion,
groping down stairs to the after cabin they found
their way to the captain’s table; somebody put