“Now,” he said, “we are going to make an inventory of what is left. We must know exactly what things we have; they are scattered all about; we must pick them up; it may snow at any moment, and then it would be impossible to find a scrap.”
“Don’t let us lose any time, then,” answered Johnson; “food and wood is what we need at once.”
“Well, let us each take a side,” answered the doctor, “so as to cover the whole ground; let us begin at the centre and go out to the circumference.”
They went at once to the bed of ice where the Forward had lain; each examined with care all the fragments of the ship beneath the dim light of the moon. It was a genuine hunt; the doctor entered into this occupation with all the zest, not to say the pleasure, of a sportsman, and his heart beat high when he discovered a chest almost intact; but most were empty, and their fragments were scattered everywhere.
The violence of the explosion had been considerable; many things were but dust and ashes; the large pieces of the engine lay here and there, twisted out of shape; the broken flanges of the screw were hurled twenty fathoms from the ship and buried deeply in the hardened snow; the bent cylinders had been torn from their pivots; the chimney, torn nearly in two, and with chains still hanging to it, lay half hid under a large cake of ice; the bolts, bars, the ironwork of the helm, the sheathing, all the metalwork of the ship, lay about as if it had been fired from a gun.
But this iron, which would have made the fortune of a tribe of Eskimo, was of no use under the circumstances; before anything else food had to be found, and the doctor did not discover a great deal.
“That’s bad,” he said to himself; “it is evident that the storeroom, which was near the magazine, was entirely destroyed by the explosion; what wasn’t burned was shattered to dust. It’s serious; and if Johnson is not luckier than I am, I don’t see what’s going to become of us.”
Still, as he enlarged his circles, the doctor managed to collect a few fragments of pemmican, about fifteen pounds, and four stone bottles, which had been thrown out upon the snow and so had escaped destruction; they held five or six pints of brandy.
Farther on he picked up two packets of grains of cochlearia, which would well make up for the loss of their lime-juice, which is so useful against the scurvy.
Two hours later the doctor and Johnson met. They told one another of their discoveries; unfortunately they had found but little to eat: some few pieces of salt pork, fifty pounds of pemmican, three sacks of biscuit, a little chocolate, some brandy, and about two pounds of coffee, picked up berry by berry on the ice.
No coverings, no hammocks, no clothing, were found; evidently the fire had destroyed all. In short, the doctor and boatswain had found supplies for three weeks at the outside, and with the strictest economy; that was not much for them in their state of exhaustion. So, in consequence of these disasters, Hatteras found himself not only without any coal, but also short of provisions.
As to the fuel supplied by the fragments of the ship, the pieces of the masts and the keel, they might hold out about three weeks; but then the doctor, before using it to heat their new dwelling, asked Johnson whether out of it they might not build a new ship, or at least a launch.
“No, Doctor,” answered the boatswain, “it’s impossible; there’s not a piece of wood large enough; it’s good for nothing except to keep us warm for a few days and then—”
“Then?” asked the doctor.
“God alone knows,” answered the sailor.
Having made out their list, the doctor and Johnson went after the sledge; they harnessed the tired dogs, returned to the scene of the explosion, packed up the few precious objects they had found, and carried them to their new house; then, half frozen, they took their place near their companions in misfortune.
II
Altamont’s First Words
Towards eight o’clock in the evening the snow-clouds cleared away for a few minutes; the constellations shone brilliantly in the clear air. Hatteras made use of this change to get the altitude of some stars; he went out without saying a word, carrying his instruments with him. He wished to ascertain his position and see if the ice-field had not been drifting again. After an absence of half an hour he came back, lay down in a corner, and remained perfectly still, although not asleep.
The next day snow began to fall heavily; the doctor could not help being glad that he had made his examination the day before, for a white curtain soon covered the whole expanse, and every trace of the explosion was hidden under three feet of snow.
On that day they could not set foot outside; fortunately their quarters were comfortable, or at least seemed so to the exhausted travellers. The little stove worked well, except occasionally when violent gusts drove the smoke into the room; with its heat they could make coffee and tea, which are both so serviceable beverages when the temperature is low.
The castaways, for they deserve the name, found themselves more comfortable than they had been for a long time; hence they only thought of the present, of the agreeable warmth, of the brief rest, forgetting, or even indifferent to the future, which threatened with speedy death.
The American suffered less, and gradually returned to life; he opened his eyes, but he did not say anything; his lips bore traces of the scurvy, and could not utter a sound; he could hear, and was told where he was and how he got there. He moved his head as a sign of gratitude; he saw that he
