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. A
couple of reefs were hauled down in the mainsail and
staysail, and everything got ready for making 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.
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