“Well, Bell!” said the doctor, resisting.
But Bell continued rubbing.
“Come, Bell,” began the doctor again, his mouth, nose, and eyes full of snow, “are you mad? What’s the matter?”
“If you have a nose left,” answered Bell, “you ought to be grateful to me.”
“A nose!” answered the doctor, quickly, clapping his hand to his face.
“Yes, Doctor, you were frostbitten; your nose was white when I looked at you, and if I had not done as I did, you would have lost that ornament which is in the way on a journey, but agreeable to one’s existence.”
In fact, the doctor’s nose was almost frozen; the circulation of the blood was restored in time, and, thanks to Bell, all danger was gone.
“Thanks, Bell!” said the doctor; “I’ll be even with you yet.”
“I hope so, Doctor,” the carpenter answered; “and may Heaven protect us from worse misfortunes!”
“Alas, Bell,” continued the doctor, “you mean Simpson! The poor fellow is suffering terribly.”
“Do you fear for his life?” asked Hatteras, quickly.
“Yes, Captain,” answered the doctor.
“And why?”
“He has a violent attack of scurvy; his legs have begun to swell, and his gums too; the poor fellow lies half frozen on the sledge, and every movement redoubles his suffering. I pity him, Hatteras, and I can’t do anything to relieve him.”
“Poor Simpson!” murmured Bell.
“Perhaps we shall have to halt for a day or two,” resumed the doctor.
“Halt!” shouted Hatteras, “when the lives of eighteen men are hanging on our return!”
“Still—” said the doctor.
“Clawbonny, Bell, listen to me,” said Hatteras; “we have food for only twenty days! Judge for yourselves whether we can stop for a moment!”
Neither the doctor nor Bell made any reply, and the sledge resumed its progress, which had been delayed for a moment. That evening they stopped beneath a hillock of ice, in which Bell at once cut a cavern; the travellers entered it; the doctor passed the night attending to Simpson; the scurvy had already made fearful ravages, and his sufferings caused perpetual laments to issue from his swollen lips.
“Ah, Dr. Clawbonny!”
“Courage, my dear fellow!” said the doctor.
“I shall never get well! I feel it! I’d rather die!”
The doctor answered these despairing words by incessant cares; although worn out by the fatigue of the day, he spent the night in composing a soothing potion for his patient; but the lime-juice was ineffectual, and continual friction could not keep down the progress of the scurvy.
The next day he had to be placed again upon the sledge, although he besought them to leave him behind to die in peace; then they resumed their dreary and difficult march.
The frozen mists penetrated the three men to the bone; the snow and sleet dashed against them; they were working like draught-horses, and with a scanty supply of food.
Duke, like his master, kept coming and going, enduring every fatigue, always alert, finding out by himself the best path; they had perfect confidence in his wonderful instinct.
During the morning of January 23rd, amid almost total darkness, for the moon was new, Duke had run on ahead; for many hours he was not seen; Hatteras became uneasy, especially because there were many traces of bears to be seen; he was uncertain what to do, when suddenly a loud barking was heard.
Hatteras urged on the sledge, and soon he found the faithful animal at the bottom of a ravine. Duke stood as motionless as if turned to stone, barking before a sort of cairn made of pieces of limestone, covered with a cement of ice.
“This time,” said the doctor, detaching his harness, “it’s a cairn, there’s no doubt of that.”
“What’s that to us?” asked Hatteras.
“Hatteras, if it is a cairn, it may contain some document of value for us; perhaps some provisions, and it would be worth while to see.”
“What European could have come as far as this?” asked Hatteras, shrugging his shoulders.
“But in lack of Europeans,” answered the doctor, “cannot Eskimo have made it here to contain what they have fished or shot? It’s their habit, I think.”
“Well, go and look at it,” continued Hatteras; “but I’m afraid it will be hardly worth your while.”
Clawbonny and Bell walked to the cairn with picks in their hands. Duke continued barking furiously. The limestones were firmly fastened together by the ice; but a few blows scattered them on the ground.
“There’s something there, evidently,” said the doctor.
“I think so,” answered Bell.
They rapidly destroyed the cairn. Soon they found a bundle and in it a damp paper. The doctor took it with a beating heart. Hatteras ran forward, seized the paper, and read:—
“Altam … , Porpoise, 13 Dec … 1860, 12 … ° long … 8 … ° 35′ lat …”
“The Porpoise?” said the doctor.
“The Porpoise!” replied Hatteras. “I never heard of a ship of this name in these seas.”
“It is clear,” resumed the doctor, “that travellers, perhaps shipwrecked sailors, have been here within two months.”
“That is sure,” said Bell.
“What are we going to do?” asked the doctor.
“Push on,” answered Hatteras, coldly. “I don’t know anything about any ship called the Porpoise, but I know that the brig Forward is waiting for our return.”
XXXI
The Death of Simpson
They resumed their journey; the mind of everyone was filled with new and unexpected ideas, for to meet anyone in these regions is about the most remarkable event that can happen. Hatteras frowned uneasily.
“The Porpoise!” he kept saying to himself; “what ship is that? And what is it doing so near the Pole?”
At the thought, he shuddered. The doctor and Bell only thought of the two results which might follow the discovery of this document, that they might be of service in saving someone, or, possibly, that they might be saved by them. But the
