“Bravo!” shouted Altamont. “I suppose they had ladies’-maids to lace you by the capstan. Well, they were jolly fellows!”
“Like all who do what they set out to do,” remarked Hatteras.
Hatteras uttered these words, and then he relapsed into his usual silence. The doctor, unwilling to dwell on that subject, hastened to resume his reading.
“See here,” he said, “here is a picture of arctic sufferings; it may be varied infinitely; but a few of the observations are wise enough; for instance:—
“ ‘To go out in the morning to take the air, and on setting foot off the ship, to take a cold bath in the cook’s trough.
“ ‘To go on a hunting-party, get near a fine reindeer, take aim, try to fire, and miss the shot on account of a damp cap.
“ ‘To start out with a piece of fresh bread in the pocket, and when one gets hungry to find it frozen hard enough to break one’s teeth.
“ ‘To leave the table suddenly on hearing a wolf is in sight of the ship, and to come back and find one’s dinner eaten by the cat.
“ ‘To return from a walk rapt in thought, and to be awakened suddenly by the embrace of a bear.’
“You see, my friends,” said the doctor, “we should not find it hard to imagine other polar troubles; but from the moment it becomes necessary to endure these miseries, it would be a pleasure to narrate them.”
“Upon my word,” said Altamont, “that’s an amusing paper, and it’s a pity we can’t subscribe to it.”
“Suppose we should start one,” suggested Johnson.
“We five!” answered Clawbonny; “we should all be editors, and there would be no readers.”
“Nor audience either, if we should act a play,” said Altamont.
“Tell us, Doctor,” said Johnson, “something about Captain Parry’s theatre; did they act new plays there?”
“Of course; at first they made use of two volumes which were put on board of the Hector, and they had plays every fortnight; but soon they had acted all; then they resorted to original authors, and Parry himself wrote a suitable play for the Christmas holidays; it was very successful, and was called The Northwest Passage, or the End of the Voyage.”
“A capital title,” answered Altamont; “but I confess, if I had to write on that subject, I should be puzzled about the end.”
“You are right,” said Bell; “who can say how it will end?”
“True,” answered the doctor; “but why bother about the end, since the beginning is so favorable? Let us trust in Providence, my friends; let us act our part well, and since the end depends on the Author of all things, let us have confidence in him; he will know what to do with us.”
“Let us sleep on it,” answered Johnson; “it is late, and since bedtime has come, let us turn in.”
“You are in a great hurry, my old friend,” said the doctor.
“Naturally enough, Doctor, I am so comfortable in bed! And then my dreams are pleasant. I dream of warm countries; or that, to tell the truth, half of my life is spent at the equator and half at the Pole!”
“The deuce,” said Altamont, “you have a happy temperament.”
“True,” answered the boatswain.
“Well, it would be cruel to detain Johnson any longer. His tropical sun is waiting for him. Let us go to bed.”
XI
Disquieting Traces
In the night of April 26–27, the weather changed; the thermometer fell many degrees, and the inhabitants of Doctor’s House perceived it from the cold which made its way beneath their coverings; Altamont, who was watching the stove, took care not to let the fire get low, and he was kept busy putting on enough coal to keep the temperature at 50°. This cold weather announced the end of the storm, and the doctor was glad of it, for now they could resume their usual occupations, their hunting, excursions, and explorations; this would put an end to the apathy of their loneliness, which in time sours even the finest characters.
The next morning the doctor rose early, and made his way over the drifts to the lighthouse. The wind was from the north; the air was clear, the snow was hard under his feet. Soon his five companions had left Doctor’s House; their first care was to dig away the drifted snow, which now disguised the plateau; it would have been impossible to discover any traces of life upon it, for the tempest had buried all inequalities beneath fifteen feet of snow.
After the snow was cleared away from the house, it was necessary to restore its architectural outline. This was very easy, and after the ice was removed a few blows with the snow-knife gave it its normal thickness. After two hours’ work the granite appeared, and access to the stores and the powder-house was free. But since, in these uncertain climates, such things can happen every day, a new supply of food was carried to the kitchen. They were all wearied of salt food and yearned for fresh meat, and so the hunters were charged with changing the bill of fare, and they prepared to set out.
Still the end of April did not bring with it the polar spring, which was yet six weeks off; the sun’s rays were still too feeble to melt the snow or to nourish the few plants of these regions. They feared lest animals should be scarce, both birds and quadrupeds. But a hare, a few ptarmigans, even a young fox, would have been welcome to the table of Doctor’s House, and the hunters resolved to shoot whatever should come within range.
The doctor, Altamont, and Bell determined to explore the country. Altamont, they felt sure from his habits, was a bold and skilful hunter, and, with all his bragging, a capital shot. So he went with the hunters, as did Duke, who was equally skilful and
