“That is all, and it is because you insisted on our taking it, that we have that.”
“It’s not of much use,” said the doctor.
“They were a pack of miserable, cowardly traitors who ran away!” said Johnson. “May they be punished as they deserve!”
“Johnson,” answered the doctor, mildly, “we must remember that their suffering had worn upon them very much. Only exceptional natures remain stanch in adversity, which completely overthrows the weak. Let us rather pity than curse them!”
After these words the doctor remained silent for a few minutes, and gazed around uneasily.
“What is become of the sledge?” asked Johnson.
“We left it a mile back.”
“In care of Simpson?”
“No, my friend; poor Simpson sank under the toil of the trip.”
“Dead!” cried the boatswain.
“Dead!” answered the doctor.
“Poor fellow!” said Johnson; “but who knows whether we may not soon be reduced to envying his fate?”
“But we have brought back a dying man in place of the one we lost,” answered the doctor.
“A dying man?”
“Yes, Captain Altamont.”
The doctor gave the boatswain in a few words an account of their finding him.
“An American!” said Johnson, thoughtfully.
“Yes; everything seems to point that way. But what was this Porpoise which had evidently been shipwrecked, and what was he doing in these waters?”
“He came in order to be lost,” answered Johnson; “he brought his crew to death, like all those whose foolhardiness leads them here. But, Doctor, did the expedition accomplish what it set out for?”
“Finding the coal?”
“Yes,” answered Johnson.
The doctor shook his head sadly.
“None at all?” asked the old sailor.
“None; our supplies gave out, fatigue nearly conquered us. We did not even reach the spot mentioned by Edward Belcher.”
“So,” continued Johnson, “you have no fuel?”
“No.”
“Nor food?”
“No.”
“And no boat with which to reach England?”
They were both silent; they needed all their courage to meet this terrible situation.
“Well,” resumed the boatswain, “there can be no doubts about our condition! We know what we have to expect! But the first thing to do, when the weather is so cold, is to build a snow-house.”
“Yes,” answered the doctor, “with Bell’s aid that will be easy; then we’ll go after the sledge, we’ll bring the American here, and then we’ll take counsel with Hatteras.”
“Poor captain!” said Johnson, forgetting his own griefs; “he must suffer terribly.”
With these words they returned to their companions. Hatteras was standing with folded arms, as usual, gazing silently into space. His face wore its usual expression of firmness. Of what was this remarkable man thinking? Of his desperate condition and shattered hopes? Was he planning to return, since both men and the elements had combined against his attempt?
No one could have read his thoughts, which his face in no way expressed. His faithful Duke was with him, braving a temperature of −32°.
Bell lay motionless on the ice; his insensibility might cost him his life; he was in danger of being frozen to death. Johnson shook him violently, rubbed him with snow, and with some difficulty aroused him from his torpor.
“Come, Bell, take courage!” he said; “don’t lose heart; get up; we have to talk matters over, and we need a shelter. Have you forgotten how to make a snow-house? Come, help me, Bell! There’s an iceberg we can cut into! Come, to work! That will give us what we need, courage!”
Bell, aroused by these words, obeyed the old sailor.
“Meanwhile,” Johnson went on, “the doctor will be good enough to go to the sledge and bring it back with the dogs.”
“I am ready,” answered the doctor; “in an hour I shall be back.”
“Shall you go too, Captain?” added Johnson, turning to Hatteras.
Although he was deep in thought, the captain heard the boatswain’s question, for he answered gently—
“No, my friend, if the doctor is willing to go alone. We must form some plan of action, and I want to be alone to think matters over. Go. Do what you think right for the present. I will be thinking of the future.”
Johnson turned to the doctor.
“It’s singular,” he said; “the captain seems to have forgotten his anger; his voice never was so gentle before.”
“Well!” answered the doctor; “he has recovered his presence of mind. Mark my words, Johnson, that man will be able to save us!”
Thereupon the doctor wrapped himself up as well as he could, and, staff in hand, walked away towards the sledge in the midst of a fog which the moonlight made almost bright. Johnson and Bell set to work immediately; the old sailor encouraged the carpenter, who wrought on in silence; they did not need to build, but to dig into the solid ice; to be sure it was frozen very hard, and so rendered the task difficult, but it was thereby additionally secure; soon Johnson and Bell could work comfortably in the orifice, throwing outside all that they took from the solid mass.
From time to time Hatteras would walk fitfully, stopping suddenly every now and then; evidently he did not wish to reach the spot where his brig had been. As he had promised, the doctor was soon back; he brought with him Altamont, lying on the sledge beneath all the coverings; the Greenland dogs, thin, tired, and half starved, could hardly drag the sledge, and were gnawing at their harness; it was high time that men and beasts should take some rest.
While they were digging the house, the doctor happened to stumble upon a small stove which had not been injured by the explosion, and with a piece of chimney that could be easily repaired: the doctor carried it away in triumph. At the end of three hours the house was inhabitable; the stove was set in and filled with pieces of wood; it was soon roaring and giving out a comfortable warmth.
The American was brought in and covered up carefully; the four Englishmen sat about the fire. The last supplies of the sledge, a little biscuit and some hot tea, gave them some comfort. Hatteras did not speak; everyone respected his silence. When the meal was finished the
