Page:Once a Week Jul - Dec 1859.pdf/528

17, 1859.] find a tid-bit,  when  crack  went  the  ice,  like  a monstrous  big  pane  of  glass,  with  a running rumble like  the  roar  of  a thousand  cannon  let  off one after  another. We could  hear  it  growling away for  miles  into  the  darkness. The moon  was just going  down. The shark  soon  left  the  whale, for the  bit  of  ice  on  which  our  prog  was  tilted over like  a dust-cart,  and  shot  its  load  into  the sea. We were  too  busy  looking  after  our  lives  to have  any  time  to  look  after  that. Two of  our four boats  were  cracked  like  walnut-shells  by  the big lumps  of  ice  that  were  jolting  about  everywhere. It was  as  much  as  ever  we  could  do  to get  off  our  lump  safely — the  four  crews  into  two boats; it danced  up  and  down,  this  side  and  that, like a cork  upon  the  swell. And then  we  had only starlight  to  guide  us  as  we  pulled  back  to the  ship,  with  broken  ice  on  every  side  threatening each moment  to  stave  us  in. I didn’t see  him that night,  but  three  of  our  fellows  did. They say he  chased  us  back,  jumping  from  block  to block  as  if  they  were  only  stepping-stones  across a brook.

“He was  seen  once  more  big  like  that. The ship was  frozen  in  hard  and  fast  again. You could see nothing  but  a hummocky  plain  of  ice,  with here and  there  a berg  sticking  up  like  a sharp  horn, for miles  all  round—except  in  one  place  astern, where there  was  a little  waterhole  that  glimmered in the  moonlight  like  a great  watching  eye. We had covered  in  the  quarter-deck  with  a sloping canvas roof,  but  a hole  was  left  just  above  the taffrail to  look  out  from. Well, one  night  when the Northern  Lights  were  flashing  about  the  sky like huge  flapping  flags  of  red,  and  yellow,  and green, one  of  the  boys  was  looking  out  through this opening,  and  by  the  waterhole  he  saw  Galt standing, as  tall  as  a fir-tree. He had  the  fingers and the  thumb  of  his  left  hand  spread  out  as  he had  when  he  died,  and  with  his  right  forefinger  he counted  them  off  one  by  one. Then down  he went  into  the  waterhole  as  the  play-actors  drop through the  stage,  and  the  next  morning  it  was frozen up.

“On the  night  of  the  fourth  day  after  he  had been thus  seen,  he  was  seen  again,  the  same  size as he  was  when  alive,  walking  round  and  round the ship,  laughing  and  pointing. One, two,  three, four he  counted  on  his  left  hand,  then  shut  it  all up except  the  little  finger,  and  kept  lunging through the  gloom  with  that. We knew  what  he meant  next  day.

“A berg twice  as  high  as  the  one  we  saw  at noon  came  with  a jar  against  the  floe,  and  shivered it for  miles. The ice  about  the  ship  of  course broke up  and  began  a devil’s  dance,  but  as  the bits weren’t  very  big,  and  she  was  regularly  cased with rope-fenders,  she  might  have  got  over  that if the  berg  hadn’t  borne  down  upon  her  as  straight as if  it  had  been  steered. On it  came,  never  once falling off  a point. You may  fancy  what  a funk we were  in! We bundled  clothes  and  blankets, pork and  biscuit  into  the  boats,  and  were  over  the side in  a twinkling,  pulling  for  dear  life,  and  fending off  the  little  lumps  that  came  walloping  up against  us  as  well  as  we  could  with  the  boat-hooks. Two poor  frost-bitten  fellows  couldn’t  leave  their berths, and  the  skipper  swore,  come  what  might, he’d stick  by  the  ship. We saw  him  run  forward and hoist  the  jib  all  by  himself,  to  get  some  way on her,  and  then  the  berg  came  between,  and  we never  saw  any  more  of  him  or  the  poor  old.

And may  I never  taste  grog  again  if  I didn’t  see on the  berg,  alongside  of  Galt  and  a foreign-looking woman, the — .”

Whom he  saw,  and  how  Chips  and  his  comrades  got home, we  did  not  hear; for  just  then  a shrill  voice from the  forecastle — echoed  shrilly  along  the  deck — sang out  in  tremulous  haste,  “Ice  on  the weather-bow!” and the  chief  officer,  in  his  rushing route forwards,  put  in  his  snow-roofed  visage  at the  cabin -door,  and  bellowed  to  his  colleague, “Jackson, turn  out!”  The  cabin  was  soon cleared, and  seeing,  as  we  did,  this  second  monster solemnly glide  past  us,  so  near  that  we  could plainly make  out  the  foam  of  the  black  billows breaking on  its  dully  glimmering  sides,  we  may, perhaps, be  excused  if  we  gave  more  credence  than we should  have  afforded  in  less  excited  moments to 2em

question of  how  to  find  a greater  amount of remunerative  work  for  educated  women  is  one which involves  many  difficulties; but  it  is  at  the same time  becoming  so  necessary,  and  is  now  so nobly  advocated,  that  apology  can  scarcely  be needed  for  any  attempt  to  throw  light  upon  this complicated subject.

In the  first  place,  it  may  be  asked,  what  would the country  gain  by  introducing  women  into  any of those  departments  already  filled — and  more than filled — by  men? Well might  the  accountant and the  clerk  complain,  should  women  attempt  to “push  them  from  their  stools.”  Where,  then,  is this  remunerative  occupation  to  be  found,  for  the want of  which  so  many  educated  women  are  now compelled, without  inclination  and  without  qualifications for  teaching,  to  offer  themselves  as  candidates for  an  employment  which,  above  all  others, requires the  entire  devotion  of  the  heart,  as  well as the  head.

Anxious, as  all  who  are  interested  in  this question  must  be,  to  engage  the  attention  of  enlightened women  on  behalf  especially  of  those  of their  own  class  who  from  stress  of  circumstances may  be  looking  for  remunerative  employment,  we would  venture  to  inquire  whether  some  plan  could not  be  devised  by  which  women  of  the  privileged classes  might  assist  in  promoting  the  good  of  this portion  of  the  community  without  any  loss  or trouble  to  themselves. We allude  to  women’s work,  or  perhaps  it  would  be  speaking  more  to the  point  to  say  ladies'  work. That ladies  do work,  and  that  most  industriously  and  patiently, how  many  an  elaborate  and  beautiful piece of embroidery bears  evidence; to  say  nothing  of  work in  coloured  wool,  not  always,  perhaps,  quite  so beautiful. It seems  almost  a necessity  of  woman’s nature  that  she  should  work; and  in  all  ages  of the  world,  at  least  down  to  the  present  times, some  of  the  most  elaborate  and  exquisite  kinds  of work  have  been  executed  by  women  of  the  higher ranks. The beautiful  and  accomplished  Marguerite d’Angoulême, sister  of  Francis  I.,  was