Across Frozen Seas by John Wilson Read Free Book Online Page B

me and I cannot help but join in his laughter. Things have certainly improved for us since those days on the street. Later there will be theatrical entertainment and Lieutenant Gore will give a recital upon the flute, but for now everyone is content finishing off the meal and the extra tot of rum we have been issued. A sailor is hard at work on the hand organ in the corner and Jacko, who turns out to be Miss Jacko, is dressed in a blanket, frock and trousers made for her by the crew. She stands atop the organ and dances wildly to her favourite tunes.
    Even Neptune seems content now, sitting at my feet, well-fed on scraps. This is unusual since he has been miserable ever since we left England. He mopes about getting in everybody’s way or sits sullenly watching us all go about our work. The night the ice blocked us into our winter harbour here at Beechey Island, he sat on deck howling mournfully for hours and getting on everyone’s nerves until I dragged him down to the mess deck where he lapsed into soft whimpering. It is strange behaviour.
    â€œWell,” says George, standing, “I think I will go and find a game of cards. Will you join me Davy?”
    â€œNo,” I reply. “Cards are not to my liking. I think I may read some.”
    â€œYou read too much. Come and have some fun.”

    â€œDo you remember who it was that taught me to read?” I ask.
    â€œAye. Well, maybe that was a mistake,” George’s voice suddenly becomes harsh. “You have become altogether too serious of late. I play cards for fun and if I can line my pockets with a few extra pennies for when we return, so much the better.”
    With that, George turns and finds his way over to some men who are huddled over a barrel against the far wall. I cannot deny it any longer; my friend is changing. The longer we are at sea, the less he reads. I have finished all Mister Dickens’ books and have read many of the journals of the earlier explorers. I have tried to share my discoveries with him, but all he seems interested in doing is playing games of chance with his new friends. I am beginning to feel lonely. Reaching behind me, I bring out a copy of Lyrical Ballads by the poets Coleridge and Wordsworth. It is my first taste of poetry and much of it I do not understand. One poem however, “The Rime of the Ancient Mariner” by Mister Coleridge, tells a good story. I open the book at random and my eye falls on these lines:
    And now there came both mist and snow,
    And it grew wondrous cold:
    And ice, mast-high, came floating by,
    As green as emerald.
    And through the drifts the snowy clifts

    Did send a dismal sheen:
    Nor shapes of men nor beasts we ken-
    The ice was all between.
    The ice was here, the ice was there,
    The ice was all around:
    It cracked and growled, and roared and howled,
    Like noises in a swound!
    I close the book and stand. A few men are still finishing off their rum. I do not care for it and find my way over to where Bill Braine sits. He continues to guard us against the menacing Seeley, although George needs him less and less as he spends more time with his card-playing friends. I have seen Bill and Seeley in conversation and am sure that Bill is repeating his earlier warning. Despite that, Seeley continues to torture us at every opportunity. After he cut my hammock, I managed to avoid him for a time, but that has become less easy now that we are stuck here in the ice.
    â€œHere Bill,” I say handing him my rum. “I have little taste for this stuff.”
    â€œThank you,” he replies, turning from his conversation with three other Marines. “Will you join us lad?”
    â€œNo,” I answer. “I think I will get a breath of air.”
    As I turn to the ladder I see Seeley glowering at me from a corner. I hurry up onto the deck.
    It is cold and quiet up here. There is little to see. It is overcast and misty and there are few lights on our ship.About half a mile away,