In the Great White Land by Gordon Stables

The surprise was this: no fewer than four young Greenland bears[C] were led forth, and attached or harnessed to a hugely large sledge, and seemed so perfectly quiet and well broken, that neither Charlie nor Walt hesitated for a moment to take their seats.

This sleigh could accommodate as many as ten men.

But these bears, although they moved not with half the rapidity of a team of dogs, never varied their pace, and never needed rest until they had covered a distance of not less than twelve miles.

Both the Newfoundlands had been shut up in an igloo. This was a precautionary measure, for although the bears never attempted to molest the Yak-dogs, they might not have objected to a mouthful or two of fine, fresh Newfoundland.

And the end of it all was that Captain Mayne Brace considered himself quite justified in purchasing these noble animals, for if anything came of the proposed Antarctic expedition, there was no reason why they should not be taken south with the force.

The days grew longer and longer now, fresh snow fell, softer winds began to blow, and at long last, with noises that are indescribable, the ice all around began to crack and break with the force of great waves that rolled in beneath them from the Eastern ocean.

Previous to this, however, peace had been established between the Yak-Yaks and the Teelies. The former had encamped close to the bay, and plenty of provisions and necessaries having been landed, Humpty Dumpty himself was left in charge of the whole -- a kind of white king, in fact, who considered himself of no small importance. He had orders to keep the peace until the _Walrus_ should return after the spring fishing.

The sun was now shining nineteen hours out of the twenty-four, and soon it would rise not to set again for months; and so one glorious morning sail was set, and the _Walrus_, scorning the lesser baybergs, went ploughing her way slowly seawards, and in good time reached the whaling grounds.

If Captain Mayne Brace had come to these northern seas merely for sport and pleasure, he might have had plenty of both. There were seals enough, though rather scattered; there were bears in abundance, strolling defiantly on their native ice, or buffeting the billows in search of pastures new; there were bladder-noses, sharks in scores -- oh, in shoals sometimes -- walruses on the ice and in the water, lonely unicorns, and those marvellous narwhals that go plunging about, and always seem to be going somewhere on particular business, but never getting there. Yet glorious times of it the beasts have for all that when they reach shoal water, and can spear with their wonderful weapons the flat fish and skates that there do dwell. For my own part I should rather like to be a narwhal for a month or two in summer. Hammer-headed sharks, too, there were, those hideous zygenas, and birds in millions; but, alas, for Brace's pretty barque and her greedy owners, hardly ever was a true Greenland whale seen or tackled.

And so when the season was waxing to a close, and these monster whales had babies of their own with which they departed southward to warmer seas, for their children's sake, Captain Brace determined one morning that it was time to bear up once more for Britain's shores.

Of course the men were down-hearted, because many of them had families to provide for, and did not want to return with empty pockets. But "better luck next" is the motto of your Arctic sailor; and when Brace, their well-beloved skipper, told them that there was considerable probability that many of them -- if they chose to volunteer -- would be engaged for an expedition to the Southern Pole, they regained heart, and made the welkin ring with their lusty cheers.

When the _Walrus_ arrived at last at Incognita Bay, and the anchor was let go in a cosy corner, as near to the shore as they could venture with safety, preparations were immediately commenced, first, for the shipment of huge blocks of fresh-water ice, and afterwards, for the embarkation of the dogs and Yak-Yaks they were to take southwards with them.

The bears were going to be the great difficulty. They were splendidly trained, it is true. But then they were but young; and who could say that they might not, when at sea, kick over the traces, eat their Yak-Yak keepers, and become frantically unmanageable?

The whole of the fo'cas'le was turned into a huge bear-den for their accommodation, and seal-meat in abundance was lowered into an ice-tank, that, during their long voyage, they might not starve.

It was a happy thought of Slap-dash, a brave Innuit and chief keeper of the bears, to have trained three of the Yak-dogs to sleep with his monster pets. The bears had become very fond of these, and growled a good deal at each other over them at night, but never actually fought.

But for these honest dogs the shipment of the Bruins would have presented far greater difficulties.

I must describe how this shipment was actually effected. To have roped the poor beasts would have rendered them savage, and this would have been rather indiscreet, to say the least. So a large raft was constructed, as well as a sort of inclined plane of wood, similar to a horse's ladder. This last was made fast to the fo'cas'le bulwark above, while the other end was held in its place, on the sea below, by means of floats and beams from the ship's water-line.

The three pet dogs, the bears' favourites, were easily got on to the raft, and the Bruins followed. The Innuit himself kept feeding them as they were being towed all the way to the ship, and while the raft was made fast to the inclined plane. Then up sprang Slap-dash, and called the dogs to follow.

"Oh," said the biggest bear, whose name was Gruff, "if that's your game, here's for after."

And up he went.