The doctor, to his great surprise, found it marking −66°. Seldom has man been called upon to endure so low a temperature.
The ice stretched in long, dark lines upon the floor; a dense mist filled the room; the dampness fell in the form of thick snow; the men could not see one another; their extremities grew cold and blue; their heads felt as if they wore an iron band; and their thoughts grew confused and dull, as if they were half delirious. A terrible symptom was that their tongues refused to articulate a sound.
From the day the men threatened to burn the ship, Hatteras would walk for hours upon the deck, keeping watch. This wood was flesh and blood to him. Cutting a piece from it would have been like cutting off a limb. He was armed, and he kept constant guard, without minding the cold, the snow, or the ice, which stiffened his clothing as if it covered it with a granite cuirass. Duke understood him, and followed him, barking and howling.
Nevertheless, December 25th he went down into the common-room. The doctor, with all the energy he had left, went up to him and said—
“Hatteras, we are going to die from want of fire!”
“Never!” said Hatteras, knowing very well what request he was refusing.
“We must,” continued the doctor, mildly.
“Never!” repeated Hatteras more firmly; “I shall never give my consent! Whoever wishes, may disobey me.”
Thus was permission given them. Johnson and Bell hastened to the deck. Hatteras heard the wood of the brig crashing under the axe, and wept.
That was Christmas Day, the great family festival in England, one specially devoted to the amusement of the children. What a painful recollection was that of the happy children gathered about the green Christmas tree! Everyone recalled the huge pieces of roast meat, cut from the fattened ox, and the tarts, the mince-pies, and other luxuries so dear to the English heart! But here was nothing but suffering, despair, and wretchedness, and for the Christmas log, these pieces of a ship lost in the middle of the frigid zone!
Nevertheless, under the genial influence of the fire, the spirits and strength of the men returned; the hot tea and coffee brought great and immediate consolation, and hope is so firm a friend of man, that they even began to hope for some luckier fate. It was thus that the year 1860 passed away, the early winter of which had so interfered with Hatteras’s plans.
Now it happened that this very New Year’s Day was marked by an unexpected discovery. It was a little milder than the previous days had been; the doctor had resumed his studies; he was reading Sir Edward Belcher’s account of his expedition in the polar regions. Suddenly, a passage which he had never noticed before filled him with astonishment; he read it over again; doubt was no longer possible.
Sir Edward Belcher states that, having come to the end of Queen’s Channel, he found there many traces of the presence of men. He says:—
“There are remains of dwellings far superior to what can be attributed to the savage habits of the wandering tribes of Eskimo. The walls are firmly placed on deep-dug foundations; the inside, covered with a thick layer of gravel, has been paved. Skeletons of moose, reindeer, and seals abound. We found coal there.”
At these last words an idea occurred to the doctor; he took his book and ran to tell Hatteras.
“Coal!” shouted the captain.
“Yes, Hatteras, coal; that is to say, our preservation!”
“Coal, on this lonely shore!” continued Hatteras; “no, that’s impossible!”
“How can you doubt it, Hatteras? Belcher would not have mentioned it if he had not been sure, without having seen it with his own eyes.”
“Well, what then, Doctor?”
“We are not a hundred miles from the place where Belcher saw this coal! What is a journey of a hundred miles? Nothing. Longer expeditions have often been made on the ice, and with the cold as intense. Let us go after it, Captain!”
“We’ll go!” said Hatteras, who had made up his mind quickly; and with his active imagination he saw the chance of safety.
Johnson was informed of the plan, of which he approved highly; he told his companions; some rejoiced, others heard of it with indifference.
“Coal on these shores!” said Wall from his sickbed.
“We’ll let them go,” answered Shandon, mysteriously.
But before they had begun to make preparations for the trip, Hatteras wanted to fix the position of the Forward with the utmost exactitude. The importance of this calculation it is easy to see. Once away from the ship, it could not be found again without knowing its position precisely.
So Hatteras went up on deck; he took observations at different moments of several lunar distances, and the altitude of the principal stars. He found, however, much difficulty in doing this, for when the temperature was so low, the glass and the mirrors of the instrument were covered with a crust of ice from Hatteras’s breath; more than once his eyelids were burned by touching the copper eyepieces. Still, he was able to get very exact bases for his calculations, and he returned to the common-room to work them out. When he had finished, he raised his head with stupefaction, took his chart, marked it, and looked at the doctor.
“Well?” asked the latter.
“What was our latitude when we went into winter-quarters?”
“Our latitude was 78° 15′, and the longitude 95° 35′, exactly the pole of cold.”
“Well,” added Hatteras in a low voice, “our ice-field is drifting! We are two degrees farther north and farther west—at least three hundred miles from your coal-supply!”
“And these poor men who know nothing about it!” cried the doctor.
“Not a word!” said Hatteras, raising his finger to his lips.
XXVIII
Preparations for Departure
Hatteras did not wish to let his crew know about this new condition of affairs. He was right. If they had known that they
