A piece of ice, a jagged triangular strip of ice, measuring one hundred feet at its base, and scarcely five hundred in its greatest extent; and on it twenty-one human beings, some hundred furred animals, a few dogs, and a large bear, which was at this moment crouching at the very edge!
Yes! all the luckless colonists were there. Not one had yet been swallowed up. The last rupture had occurred when they were all in the shed. Thus far fate had spared them, probably that they might all perish together.
A silent sleepless night ensued. No one spoke or moved, for the slightest shake or blow might suffice to break the ice.
No one would touch the salt-meat served round by Mrs. Joliffe. What would be the good of eating?
Nearly everyone remained in the open air, feeling that it would be better to be drowned in the open sea than in a narrow wooden shed.
The next day, June 5th, the sun shone brightly down upon the heads of the doomed band of wanderers. All were still silent, and seemed anxious to avoid each other. Many gazed with troubled anxious eyes at the perfect circle of the horizon, of which the miserable little strip of ice formed the centre. But the sea was absolutely deserted—not a sail, not an ice-floe, not an islet! Their own piece of ice was probably the very last floating on the Bering Sea.
The temperature continued to rise. The wind had gone down, and a terrible calm had set in, a gentle swell heaved the surface of the sea, and the morsel of earth and ice, which was all that was left of Victoria Island, rose and sank without change of position, like a wreck—and what was it but a wreck?
But a wreck, a piece of woodwork, a broken mast, or a few planks, remain floating; they offer some resistance to the waves, they will not melt; but this bit of ice, this solidified water, must dissolve with the heat of the sun!
This piece of ice had formed the thickest part of the island, and this will explain its having lasted so long. A layer of earth and plenty of vegetation covered it, and the base of ice must have been of considerable thickness. The long bitter Polar winters must have “fed it with fresh ice,” in the countless centuries during which it was connected with the mainland. Even now its mean height was five or six feet above the sea level, and its base was probably of about the same thickness. Although in these quiet waters it was not likely to be broken, it could not fail gradually to melt, and the rapid dissolution could actually be watched at the edges, for as the long waves licked the sides, piece after piece of ground with its verdant covering sank to rise no more.
On this 5th June a fall of this nature occurred at about one o’clock p.m., on the site of the shed itself, which was very near the edge of the ice. There was fortunately no one in it at the time, and all that was saved was a few planks, and two or three of the timbers of the roofs. Most of the cooking utensils and all the astronomical instruments were lost. The colonists were now obliged to take refuge on the highest part of the islet, where nothing protected them from the weather, but fortunately a few tools had been left there, with the air pumps and the air-vessel, which Hobson had employed for catching a little of the rainwater for drinking purposes, as he no longer dared to draw for a supply upon the ice, every atom of which was of value.
At about four o’clock p.m., the soldier Kellet, the same who had already given signs of insanity, came to Mrs. Barnett and said quietly—
“I am going to drown myself, ma’am.”
“What, Kellet?” exclaimed the lady.
“I tell you I am going to drown myself,” replied the soldier. “I have thought the matter well over: there is no escape for us, and I prefer dying at once to waiting to be killed.”
“Kellet!” said Mrs. Barnett, taking the man’s hand and looking into his face, which was strangely composed, “you will not do that?”
“Yes, I will, ma’am; and as you have always been very good to us all, I wanted to wish you goodbye. Goodbye, ma’am!”
And Kellet turned towards the sea. Mrs. Barnett, terrified at his manner, threw herself upon him and held him back. Her cries brought Hobson and Long to her assistance, and they did all in their power to dissuade the unhappy man from carrying out his purpose, but he was not to be moved, and merely shook his head.
His mind was evidently disordered, and it was useless to reason with him. It was a terrible moment, as his example might lead some of his comrades to commit suicide also. At all hazards he must be prevented from doing as he threatened.
“Kellet,” said Mrs. Barnett gently, with a half smile, “we have always been very good friends, have we not?”
“Yes, ma’am,” replied Kellet calmly.
“Well, Kellet, if you like we will die together, but not today.”
“What, ma’am?”
“No, my brave fellow, I am not ready; but tomorrow, tomorrow if you like.”
The soldier looked more fixedly than ever at the courageous woman, and seemed to hesitate an instant; then he cast a glance of fierce longing at the sea, and passing his hand over his eyes, said—
“Tomorrow!”
And without another word he quietly turned away and went back to his comrades.
“Poor fellow!” murmured Mrs. Barnett; “I have asked him to wait till tomorrow, and who can say whether we shall not all be drowned by that time!”
Throughout that night Hobson remained motionless upon the beach, pondering whether there might not yet be some means to check the dissolution of the islet—if it might not yet be possible to preserve it until they came in sight of land of some sort.
Mrs. Barnett and Madge did not leave each
