“Porpoise.”
“The Porpoise?” asked the captain.
The American bowed affirmatively.
“In these seas?” asked Hatteras with beating heart.
The same sign from the sick man.
“To the north?”
“Yes.”
“And you know where it lies?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly?”
There was a moment’s silence. The bystanders were all excited.
“Now, listen carefully,” said Hatteras to the sick man; “we must know where this ship lies. I am going to count the degrees aloud; you will stop me by a sign.”
The American bowed his head to show that he understood.
“Come,” said Hatteras, “we’ll begin with the longitude. One hundred and five? No.—Hundred and six? Hundred and seven? Hundred and eight? Far to the west?”
“Yes,” said the American.
“Let us go on. Hundred and nine? Ten? Eleven? Twelve? Fourteen? Sixteen? Eighteen? Nineteen? Twenty?”
“Yes,” answered Altamont.
“Longitude one hundred and twenty?” said Hatteras. “And how many minutes? I shall count.”
Hatteras began at number one. At fifteen Altamont made a sign for him to stop.
“All right!” said Hatteras. “Now for the latitude. You understand? Eighty? Eighty-one? Eighty-two? Eighty-three?”
The American stopped him with a gesture.
“Well! And the minutes? Five? Ten? Fifteen? Twenty? Twenty-five? Thirty? Thirty-five?”
Another sign from Altamont, who smiled slightly.
“So,” continued Hatteras, in a deep voice, “the Porpoise lies in longitude 120° 15′, and 83° 35′ latitude?”
“Yes!” said the American, as he fell fainting into the doctor’s arms. This exertion had exhausted him.
“My friends,” cried Hatteras, “you see that safety lies to the north, always to the north! We shall be saved!”
But after these first words of joy, Hatteras seemed suddenly struck by a terrible thought. His expression changed, and he felt himself stung by the serpent of jealousy.
Someone else, an American, had got three degrees nearer the Pole! And for what purpose?
III
Seventeen Days of Land Journey
This new incident, these first words which Altamont uttered, had completely altered the situation of the castaways; but just now they had been far from any possible aid, without a reasonable chance of reaching Baffin’s Bay, threatened with starvation on a journey too long for their wearied bodies, and now, within four hundred miles from their snow-house, there was a ship which offered them bounteous supplies, and perhaps the means of continuing their bold course to the Pole. Hatteras, the doctor, Johnson, and Bell, all began to take heart after having been so near despair; they were nearly wild with joy.
But Altamont’s account was still incomplete, and, after a few moments’ repose, the doctor resumed his talk with him; he framed his questions in such a way that a simple sign of the head or a motion of the eyes would suffice for an answer.
Soon he made out that the Porpoise was an American bark from New York, that it had been caught in the ice with a large supply of food and fuel; and, although she lay on her beam-ends, she must have withstood the ice, and it would be possible to save her cargo.
Two months before, Altamont and the crew had abandoned her, carrying the launch upon a sledge; they wanted to get to Smith’s Sound, find a whaling-vessel, and be carried in her to America; but gradually fatigue and disease had fallen upon them, and they fell aside on the way. At last only the captain and two sailors were left of a crew of thirty men, and Altamont’s life was the result of what was really a miracle.
Hatteras wanted to find out from the American what he was doing in these high latitudes.
Altamont managed to make him understand that he had been caught in the ice and carried by it without possibility of resisting it.
Hatteras asked him anxiously for what purpose he was sailing.
Altamont gave them to understand that he had been trying the Northwest Passage.
Hatteras did not persist, and asked no other question of the sort.
The doctor then began to speak.
“Now,” he said, “all our efforts should be directed to finding the Porpoise; instead of struggling to Baffin’s Bay, we may, by means of a journey only two thirds as long, reach a ship which will offer us all the resources necessary for wintering.”
“There’s nothing more to be done,” said Bell.
“I should add,” said the boatswain, “that we should not lose a moment; we should calculate the length of our journey by the amount of our supplies, instead of the other and usual way, and be off as soon as possible.”
“You are right, Johnson,” said the doctor; “if we leave tomorrow, Tuesday, February 26th, we ought to reach the Porpoise March 15th, at the risk of starving to death. What do you think of that, Hatteras?”
“Let us make our preparations at once,” said the captain, “and be off. Perhaps we shall find the way longer than we suppose.”
“Why so?” asked the doctor. “This man seemed certain of the situation of his ship.”
“But,” answered Hatteras, “supposing the Porpoise has been drifting as the Forward did?”
“True,” said the doctor, “that’s not unlikely.”
Johnson and Bell had nothing to urge against the possibility of a drift of which they had themselves been victims.
But Altamont, who was listening to the conversation, gave the doctor to understand that he wished to speak. After an effort of about a quarter of an hour, Clawbonny made out that the Porpoise was lying on a bed of rocks, and so could not have drifted away. This information calmed the anxiety of the Englishmen; still it deprived them of their hope of returning to Europe, unless Bell should be able to build a small boat out of the timbers of the Porpoise. However that might be, it was now of the utmost importance that they should reach the wreck.
The doctor put one more question to the American, namely, whether he had found an open sea at latitude 83°.
“No,” answered Altamont.
There the conversation stopped. They began at once to prepare for departure; Bell and Johnson first began to see about the sledge, which needed complete repairing. Since they had plenty of wood, they
