by Cobbe (?, uncredited).
Originally published in Household Words (Bradbury & Evans) vol.13 #323 (31 May 1856).
"It is a man!" said the captain, handing his telescope to the mate, after a long, steady look; "and he seems frozen hard and fast to the side of the iceberg."
"Keep her away!" cried the skipper. "So—o—o. Steady!" and by thus altering our course we brought the iceberg right a-head.
The iceberg had been in sight since the weather cleared at midnight, when it looked like some high rocky headland, except that, by watching the bright stars behind it, we could see its gigantic outline swaying solemnly and majestically up and down. There was something sublimely grand in the slow stately movement of such a mass. There it floated, large enough, had it been land, to have been the dwelling-place of hundreds of human beings. The lower part was of so dark a purple as to look almost black; but, higher up, it shaded off to a bright azure, then to a light pale green, while on its lofty summit were long slender spires and pinnacles, and pieces of thin transparent ice, worked into all manner of fantastic forms, and either of a crystal whiteness, or tinted with a beautiful pale pink. There were bays and promontories, caves and grottos, hills and dells, with every variety of light and shade. The island was almost equally divided by a great valley running through its centre. This was half filled with snow; which, thawing slowly in the sun, formed the source of a waterfall, at a height so great that it was blown and scattered into fine rain before it reached the sea. Around its base—on which the sea was breaking with a noise less booming and more musical than when it dashes on the solid shore—was a broad band of frozen spray, which, glittering in the sunshine, looked like the silver setting of an enormous sapphire.
Not far from the top, and on the side nearest to us, was a vast, smooth, glassy plane, inclining steeply towards the sea, and terminating abruptly in a tremendous overhanging precipice. In the very centre of this plane, those among us who had good eyes could see a small black spot. It was at this, the captain had been peering through his glass, when he said, "It is a man!"
Every glass in the ship was in requisition, and every eye strained towards one point. The excitement became almost frantic when one of the watchers suddenly exclaimed that he saw the man move his hand.
We approached; so near at last, that the plateau above, and its dread object, were at last hidden from view by the brink of the precipice itself, which seemed as if about to roll over and crush us. We sailed along its side, frequently lying-to, to explore each nook and corner as we passed. The farther end of the island, when we rounded it, presented quite a new feature; the base was sapped away and undermined for about half a mile by a succession of low cavernous hollows, extending inwards farther than we could see, while the sea rushing in and out tumultuously, made the pent-up air within howl and whistle like a hurricane. Altering our course again, we steered almost due west under the southern side, where its vast shadow spread out far and wide over the ocean. It now looked even grander, darker, more fear-inspiring, than before, with the sun beaming over its rugged crest, or shining through the thinner parts and showing all the prismatic colours of the rainbow. The form of the ice-island was that of an irregular triangle, and in about five hours we had sailed completely round it. But there was no single point at which any boat ever built could have landed, even had it been a dead calm, and the sea as still as a mill-pond; much less in such a heavy surf as was then foaming and creaming all around it. No sign of living thing was seen, excepting one great sleepy seal, that had crept into a hole just above water-mark, and lay there as if he were in comfortable quarters. No sign of boat, or spar, or wreck. It was a picture of utter desolation.
We hove-to again, at the nearest point from which the man upon the iceberg could be seen. He lay on his back with one arm folded in an unusual manner under his head, the whole attitude being one of easy repose; indeed, had it not been for the marbly look of his face and hands, we could have fancied that he was sleeping soundly. He was clothed as one of the better class of seamen, in rough blue pilot-cloth with large horn buttons; he had no hat, and by his side lay a small boat-hook, to which was tied a strip of red woollen stuff, apparently a piece of the same which he wore round his neck. This, no doubt, the poor fellow had intended planting on the heights as a signal. In such a thin, clear atmosphere, with the aid of a powerful telescope, even his features might be plainly traced, and his iron grey hair seen moving in the wind.
The second mate stoutly declared that he recognised the man—he was quite sure of it—an old chum and shipmate of his with whom he had sailed many a long voyage, and some part of whose wild, varied history he told us the next evening. What seemed to convince him more than anything, was the peculiar way in which the dead man's arm was stowed away under his head—his old shipmate always slept so, even in his hammock.
Numerous and strange were the conjectures and remarks made by officers and men. Who, and what was he? How long had he been there? How did he get there? The general conclusion was, that he was one of the crew of some vessel wrecked upon the iceberg itself, of which no vestige remained.
"Yes, like enough," said one of the sailors; "she run into the ice in the dark, and went down like a stone, same as we may have done any time this last six weeks."
"Perhaps he was aloft when she struck, and got pitched up where he is now."
"As like to be pitched into the moon," rejoined another, contemptuously. "Why, that there precipice is three times as high as the tauntest mast ever rigged."
"Perhaps, now," suggested a third, "it's some awful cruel skipper, who's been a hazing and ill-using of his crew till they couldn't bear with it no longer, and was drove to mutiny, and put him ashore there, all alone, to die by himself, so as they should not have his blood upon their hands: or maybe he was a murderer or a Yankee slave-keeper."
"Ah, Bill," growled out a previous speaker; "you've always got a good word to say for every one, you have."
It was a very old man who spoke next; one who was looked up to as a great authority on all such matters, although he was usually remarkably taciturn, and would never enter into an argument. He quietly deposited his quid in his hat; and, as this was always done preparatory to his making a speech, his shipmates waited in silence for him to begin.
"That there ice-island," he said at last, "wasn't launched yesterday, nor yet last year, nor the year before, perhaps; and, by the looks of him, he's been for a pretty long cruise in warm latitudes—last summer, maybe—and then come back home for the winter. If you look away yonder—there—just this side of that high point like a church steeple, only lower down, there's a place looks darker than the rest. Now, it's just there I expect that a great piece has broken off and drifted away; and I calculate 'twas lower and more shelving off—not so steep and rocky-like as it is now. 'Twas there that poor chap was cast ashore from ship or boat. He was trying to make his way up to the heights to take a look round, and hoist a signal, when he lay down and went asleep, and never woke again; only, where he is now, you see, must have been covered with snow then, or he couldn't have kept his footing."
Having said thus much, he replaced the quid in his mouth and spoke no more.
There was no earthly use in waiting longer, and yet the captain seemed loth to give the order to fill and bear away.
"If the poor fellow had a spark of life in him, he would have moved before this, for it's six or seven hours since we first saw him. But if he did move, it would only be to slide down over the precipice, for no living thing could keep a footing on such a slope as that. And if there are any more of them we should have seen them before this time, although we could never get them off if we did."
Then pausing suddenly in his walk on the quarter-deck, he gave an order to get a gun ready forward, and presently came the answer:
"All ready with the gun, sir."
"Fire!"
In a few seconds the echo of the loud report resounded from the icy wall; for another instant all was still, and then came a noise like a rattling of loud thunder, proceeding from the centre of the berg.
The danger of our proximity to this vast object now became more and more apparent, and all sail was made to get a good offing. But we had barely proceeded a quarter of a mile when the same noise was heard again, only louder, more prolonged, and accompanied by a rending, crushing sound, the intensity and nature of which is perfectly indescribable. The vast island was parting in the middle, down the course of the deep valley before mentioned; and slowly and majestically the eastern half rolled over into the sea, upheaving what had been its base, in which were imbedded huge masses of rock covered with long sea-weed. The other part still remained erect, but was swaying to-and-fro, as if it also must capsize. This convulsion caused less foam and turmoil than might have been supposed, but raised a wave of such tremendous magnitude, that when it reached our ship she seemed about to be overwhelmed by a rolling mountain of water higher than our mast-heads. The good ship rose upon its crest, and before again sinking into the hollow, we saw the man upon the iceberg—still in the same posture—glide swiftly down the slippery incline—shoot over the edge of the precipice, and plunge into the raging surf.
A sensation of inexpressible relief was experienced by all: it had seemed so dreadful to sail away and leave him there, unburied and alone; now, at any rate, we had seen the last of him.