The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Hatteras Part 36

In spite of the doctor's recommendations, Pen and his friends refused to take the slightest exercise; they pa.s.sed whole days crouching about the stove or under their bedclothes; hence their health began to suffer; they could not react against the rigor of the climate, and scurvy soon made its appearance on board.

The doctor had long since begun to distribute, every morning, lemon-juice and lime pastilles; but these precautions, which were generally so efficacious, did very little good to the sick; and the disease, following its usual course, soon showed its most horrible symptoms.

Terrible indeed it was to see those wretches with their nerves and muscles contracted with pain! Their legs were fearfully swollen, and were covered with large bluish-black patches; their bleeding gums, their swollen lips, permitted them to utter only inarticulate sounds; their blood was poisoned, deprived of fibrine, and no longer carried life to the extremities.

Clifton was the first to be attacked by this cruel malady; soon Gripper, Brunton, and Strong had to keep to their hammocks. Those whom the illness spared could not avoid the sight of the sufferings of their friends; the common-room was the only place where they could stay; so it was soon transformed into a hospital, for of the eighteen sailors of the _Forward_, thirteen were soon down with scurvy. It seemed as if Pen would escape the contagion; his strong const.i.tution preserved him; Shandon felt the first symptoms, but it went no further with him, and plenty of exercise soon restored him to good health.

The doctor tended his patients with the greatest devotion, and his heart would bleed at the sight of the sufferings he could not a.s.suage.

Still, he inspired as much cheerfulness as he could in the lonely crew; his words, his consolations, his philosophical reflections, his fortunate inventions, broke the monotony of those long days of suffering; he would read aloud to them; his wonderful memory kept him supplied with amusing anecdotes, while the men who were well stood pressing closely around the stove; but the groans of the sick, their complaints, and their cries of despair would continually interrupt him, and, breaking off in the middle of a story, he would become the devoted and attentive physician.

Besides, his health remained good; he did not grow thin; his corpulence stood him in better stead than the thickest raiment, and he used to say he was as well clad as a seal or a whale, who, thanks to their thick layers of fat, easily support the rigors of the winter.

Hatteras did not suffer physically or morally. The sufferings of the crew did not seem to depress him. Perhaps he would not let his emotions appear on his face, while an acute observer would have detected the heart of a man beneath this mask of iron.

The doctor a.n.a.lyzed him, studied him, and could not cla.s.sify this strange organization, this unnatural temperament.

The thermometer fell still lower; the deck was entirely deserted; the Esquimaux dogs alone walked up and down it, barking dismally.

There was always a man on guard near the stove, who superintended putting on the coal; it was important not to let it go out; when the fire got low the cold crept into the room, formed on the walls, and the moisture suddenly condensed and fell in the form of snow on the unfortunate occupants of the brig.

It was among these terrible sufferings that they reached December 8th; that morning the doctor went as usual to look at the thermometer. He found the mercury entirely frozen in the bulb.

"Forty-four degrees below zero!" he said with terror.

And on that day the last piece of coal on board was thrown into the stove.

CHAPTER XXVII.

THE GREAT COLD AT CHRISTMAS.

For a moment he had a feeling of despair. The thought of death, and death by cold, appeared in all its horror; this last piece of coal burned with an ominous splutter; the fire seemed about to go out, and the temperature of the room fell noticeably. But Johnson went to get some of the new fuel which the marine animals had furnished to them, and with it he filled the stove; he added to it some tow filled with frozen oil, and soon obtained sufficient heat. The odor was almost unendurable; but how get rid of it? They had to get used to it.

Johnson agreed that his plan was defective, and that it would not be considered a success in Liverpool.

"And yet," he added, "this unpleasant smell will, perhaps, produce good results."

"What are they?" asked the carpenter.

"It will doubtless attract the bears this way, for they are fond of the smell."

"Well," continued Bell, "what is the need of having bears?"

"Bell," replied Johnson, "we can't count on seals any longer; they're gone away, and for a long time; if bears don't come in their place to supply us with their share of fuel, I don't know what is to become of us."

"True, Johnson, our fate is very uncertain; our position is a most alarming one. And if this sort of fuel gives out, I don't see how--"

"There might be another--"

"Another?" asked Bell.

"Yes, Bell! in despair on account of--but the captain would never--but yet we shall perhaps have to come to it."

And Johnson shook his head sadly, and fell to thinking gloomily. Bell did not interrupt him. He knew that the supply of fat, which it had been so hard to acquire, would only last a week, even with the strictest economy.

The boatswain was right. A great many bears, attracted by the scent, were seen to leeward of the _Forward_; the healthy men gave chase; but these animals are very swift of foot, and crafty enough to escape most stratagems; it was impossible to get near them, and the most skilful gunners could not hit them.

The crew of the brig was in great danger of dying from the cold; it could not withstand, for forty-eight hours, such a temperature as would exist in the common-room. Every one looked forward with terror to getting to the end of the fuel.

Now this happened December 20th, at three o'clock in the afternoon; the fire went out; the sailors, grouped about the empty stove, gazed at one another with haggard eyes. Hatteras remained without moving in his corner; the doctor, as usual, paced up and down excitedly; he did not know what was to be done.

The temperature in the room fell at once to -7.

But if the doctor was baffled and did not know what they should turn their hands to, others knew very well. So Shandon, cold and resolute, Pen, with wrath in his eyes, and two or three of his companions, such as he could induce to accompany him, walked towards Hatteras.

"Captain!" said Shandon.

Hatteras, absorbed in his thoughts, did not hear him.

"Captain!" repeated Shandon, touching him with his hand.

Hatteras arose.

"Sir," he said.

"Captain, the fire is out."

"Well?" continued Hatteras.

"If you intend that we shall freeze to death," Shandon went on with grim irony, "we should be glad if you would tell us."

"My intention," answered Hatteras with a deep voice, "is that every man shall do his duty to the end."

"There's something superior to duty, Captain," answered his first officer, "and that is the right of self-preservation. I repeat it, we have no fire; and if this goes on, in two days not one of us will be alive."

"I have no wood," answered Hatteras, gloomily.

"Well," shouted Pen, violently, "when the wood gives out, we must go cut it where it grows!"

Hatteras grew pale with anger.

"Where is that?" he asked.

"On board," answered the sailor, insolently.

"On board!" repeated the captain, with clinched fists and sparkling eyes.

"Of course," answered Pen, "when the s.h.i.+p can't carry the crew, the s.h.i.+p ought to be burned."