Chapter 8 Chapter Eight The Crew's Plan

However, the "Advance" still sailed nimbly on the course, and moved a few minutes to the north; however, what was to be done was not to avoid the enemy, but to attack it immediately. The ice sheets stretching for several nautical miles approached each other. Packs of ice floes typically exhibit tens of millions of tons of pressure, and care must be taken to avoid becoming trapped by them.The ice saw is installed inside the boat, so it can be put into use immediately. Some of the sailors accepted the arduous labor with meekness, but others complained, though they did not refuse to carry out the order.Gary, Bourdain, Payne, and Gripper exchanged different views while arranging the tools.

"Damn!" said Bourdain cheerfully, "I don't know why I should have thought of a nice restaurant in Water Street where I could get a glass of gin or a bottle of stout without too much trouble. You see How's it going here, Gripper?" "To tell you the truth," retorted the greeted sailor, who was usually bad-tempered, "I assure you, I don't see that here." "That's a way of saying it, Gripper, and it's clear that in these icy lands that Crawburn admires, there isn't even a trace of a tavern where an honest sailor can get a half-pint or two of brandy." Moisturize your lips."

"You can rest easy on that, Bourdain, and you can add that there's even something here to refresh your spirits. It's a ridiculous idea to keep sailors sailing the northern seas off drink. !" "Okay!" Gary replied, "Have you forgotten, Gripper? What did the doctor tell you? You should refrain from any stimulant drink, and if you don't want scurvy and are healthy, move on if." "But I don't want to go far, Gary, I think it's enough to come here, why do I have to go to a place where even the devil doesn't want to go?" "Oh, not going!" retorted Payne, "when I think I've forgotten the taste of gin!"

"But," said Bourdain, "tell me what the doctor said to you." "Oh!" Payne retorted in that rude loud voice, "that's all that needs to be said. What you need to know is, is it an excuse of health, is it a trick to save alcohol?" "This guy Payne might have something to say," Gripper replied. "Well!" retorted Bourdain, "he's got his nose red from drinking, and if this rule makes his nose turn a little red, Payne needn't complain so much." "What does my nose have to do with you?" the sailor suddenly replied after being touched. "My nose doesn't need your advice, it didn't ask you, you better mind your own business!"

"Come on! Don't be mad, Penn, I didn't think there was anything wrong with your nose at all. Well! I don't hate a whiskey as much as anybody else, especially in weather like this. But if it ends up being If it does more harm than good, I am willing to quit.” "You quit," said Warren the Stoker, joining in the conversation, "but maybe not all of them can!" "What do you mean, Warren?" Gary said, looking steadily at him. "I mean, for one reason or another, there's still booze on board, and I don't think there's a lot of discipline in the stern."

"How do you know?" Gary asked. Warren was speechless. He was just talking, and everyone knew it. "You're right, Gary," Bourdain added. "Warren doesn't know anything." "Well," Payne said, "we'll ask the conductor for a gin, we've earned it, and we'll see what he says." "I advise you to do nothing," Gary replied. "Why?" Payne and Gripper shouted. "Because the commander will reject you. You knew the rules of the ship when you got aboard, and you should have thought about it then." "Besides," replied Bourton, who voluntarily sided with Gary, because his character was pleasing to him, "Richard Sandon is not master of the ship, he is as much subject to everything as you are to us."

"Obey whom?" Penn asked. "Obey the captain." "Ah! Always the hapless captain!" cried Payne. "Don't you see that on these ice beds there are no longer captains, only taverns? It's a polite way of refusing what we have a right to demand." "But you're mistaken. There's a captain," said Bourdain. "We'll see him soon, and I'll bet my two months' salary." "Excellent," said Penn, "someone I'd like to speak to!" "Who's talking about the captain?" said a new interlocutor.

This is Clifton the Sailor, quite superstitious and jealous. "Anything new about the captain?" he asked. "No," everyone answered him in unison. "Well, I expect he'll show up in his cabin some morning, and no one knows how or where he got here." "Well!" replied Bourdain, "you're fantasizing again, Clifton, as if the fellow were some running leprechaun or pixie in the Highlands of Scotland!" "Say what you like, Bourdain, and it won't change my mind. I look through the keyhole every day as I pass the cabin, and one day I'll come and tell you what the captain looks like, he How did it come here?"

"Oh, hell!" said Penn, "he's come from like all men, your captain. If it's a chap who's trying to take us where we don't like to go, we'll know what he is gone." "Good!" said Bourdain, "Penn doesn't even know him, so I want to quarrel with him!" "Who doesn't know about him?" Clifton retorted, putting on a know-it-all look. "Whether he knows or not is yet to be verified!" "What are you trying to say?" Gripper asked. "I see." "But we don't understand you!" "Oh, didn't Penn ever have a bad time with him?"

"With the captain?" "Yes, with Captain Dog, because that's exactly the same thing." The sailors looked at each other, not daring to answer. "Whether it's a dog or a person," Penn muttered, "I tell you, this animal will be a big deal one day." "Look, Clifton," Bourton asked gravely, "you take this dog for the real captain, as Johnson joked?" "Of course," said Clifton confidently, "if you've been watching like I have, you'll notice that this animal behaves in an unusual way." "What manners? Come on, tell me!"

"Don't you see the way he walks up and down the poop with a dignified air, looking at the sails as if he were on watch?" "It's true," Gripper said, "I even actually saw him put his paws on the wheel one night." "Impossible!" said Bourdain. "Now," continued Clifton, "didn't he leave the ship at night and walk out on the ice, where he's not afraid of bears or cold?" "That's true, too," Bourdain said. "Has the animal been seen standing beside the people like a faithful dog, pacing about the kitchen, and staring at the Commander as Cook Strong brings him delicious food? Haven't you heard, at night, when the ship has gone two or three miles, howling that sends a chill down your spine, which is not so easy to feel at this temperature? Lastly, you have seen this Does the dog eat? It does not eat anything man eats, the dog food is never touched except by a hand in the boat secretly feeding it, I have the right to say that this animal does not live on food, so if this If it's not magical, I'm a beast." "Seriously," replied Bell the carpenter, who had heard all of Clifton's arguments, "seriously, it's quite possible!" But the other sailors said nothing. "Anyway," asked Bourdain, "where is the Forward taking us?" "I don't know anything," Bell replied. "Richard Sandon will have other instructions in due course." "But who gives instructions?" "Who gives instructions?" "Yes, how?" said Bourdain, looking eager. "Come on, Bell, talk!" said the other sailors again. "Who gives instructions? How? Oh! I don't know a thing," retorted the carpenter, looking a little embarrassed. "Ah, it's Captain Dog!" cried Clifton. "He has written the first time, and he will write the second as well. Oh! If I knew half what the beast knows, I'd be worthy of the title of Lord of the Admiralty." "Therefore," concluded Bourdain, "you insist on the dog being the captain?" "Yes, as I said." "Okay," Penn said in a muffled voice, "if this animal doesn't want to die in dog's skin, it can only quickly become a human being, because according to Penn's way, I'm going to treat him." "Why do you want to do this?" "Because I want to," Penn replied gruffly, "I don't want to report to anyone." "Enough talking. Boys," cried Mr. Johnson, intervening at a moment when his speech seemed to be at a standstill, "make the saw go faster! There's a great ice pack to go!" "Wonderful! Another Friday!" Clifton said with a shrug. "You see, crossing the polar circle is not so easy!" Anyway, the crew was a bit out of energy for the day. The "Forward" rushed to the ice field with full power, but could not separate them, so it had to break down here at night. On Saturday, due to the influence of the easterly wind, the temperature was still dropping;At seven o'clock in the morning, the temperature was -21°C. The doctor tried to stay quietly in the cabin and read the polar travel journal, but he asked himself, according to his habits, what was the last thing he wanted to do at this time.He answered himself that it wasn't much fun to help out on deck at this temperature.So he strictly abides by his own code of conduct, leaving the warm cabin to help tug the boat.He had a good complexion, and wore green glasses so that his eyes would not be hurt by the reflection, and he was always careful to wear snow goggles when observing later, so as not to contract ophthalmia, which is very common in high latitudes. In the evening, the "Forward" sailed several nautical miles to the north, thanks to the efforts of the crew and the wisdom of Sandon, who was good at taking advantage of all favorable situations.At midnight, the "Advance" passed the 66th latitude. Through sounding, it was found that the water depth was 23 inches. Sandon realized that he had come to the shoal where the Queen's battleship "Victory" was located, and gradually approached the land 30 nautical miles away to the east. . But by that time the ice floes, which had been motionless until then, began to break up and begin to move. Icebergs seemed to come in from all directions on the horizon. The ship encountered moving reefs whose pressure was irresistible. It was quite difficult to get up, the first helmsman Gary was at the helm, and the icebergs behind the ship tended to close together.It is therefore necessary to cross this glacier, whether out of prudence or duty, to move forward.The difficulty increased, for Shandon could not orient himself among these moving points, which changed from one place to another without any possibility of settling down. The occupants were divided between the starboard and port sides of the ship; each carried a long stick with an iron tip, and pushed aside the particularly dangerous ice. The Forward soon entered a narrow alley between two tall icebergs, the tops of the spar brushed against a wall of ice as hard as rock, and gradually entered a winding valley filled with snow eddies, floating The ice collided with each other and split apart with a loud noise. But it was soon confirmed that there was no exit to the canyon. A huge ice block entered the channel and quickly drifted towards the "Forward". It seemed that there was no way to avoid it, and it was also impossible to retreat. up. Shandon and Johnson stood in front of the ship, observing the situation.With his right hand, Shandon indicated the direction of the helmsman, and with his left hand, he communicated the order to operate the engine to James Wall, who was next to the mechanic. "How does this end?" the doctor asked Johnson. "That depends on God's pleasure," answered the bosun. The hundred-foot iceberg was only a chain away from the Forward and threatened to crush it. "Damn it, damn it!" Payne cried out, cursing horribly. "Shut up!" someone yelled, whose voice was hard to make out in the hurricane. The iceberg appeared to be heading towards the ship, and there was a moment of indescribable anxiety when the crew dropped their iron bars and backed away, in complete disregard of Sandon's orders. Suddenly there was a terrible bang, and a real downpour from the waves fell on the deck of the ship.There was a horrific cry from the crew, and Gary at the helm kept the Advance steady despite the ship's horrendous yaw. When people cast their horrified eyes on the iceberg, the iceberg disappeared, the road was cleared, and there appeared a canal illuminated by the slanting sunlight, and the ship could continue to drive forward. "Well, Mr. Crawburn," said Johnson, "can you explain this phenomenon to me?" "Very simple, my friend," answered the doctor, "as it often happens, when the floes melt and separate from each other, they drift alone, in perfect equilibrium, but gradually they drift south, where the water is warmer, Their bases start to melt from the collision of other icebergs and gradually break apart, and at some point the center of gravity of the ice floes shifts and they collapse. It's just that if this iceberg turns around two minutes later, it's going to hit the boat Come here and put it under."