The Voyages and Adventures of Captain Hatteras Part 45

THE DESERT OF ICE.

CHAPTER I.

THE DOCTOR'S INVENTORY.

The design which Captain Hatteras had formed of exploring the North, and of giving England the honor of discovering the Pole, was certainly a bold one. This hardy sailor had just done all that human skill could do. After struggling for nine months against contrary winds and seas, after destroying icebergs and ice-fields, after enduring the severity of an unprecedentedly cold winter, after going over all that his predecessors had done, after carrying the _Forward_ beyond the seas which were already known, in short, after completing half his task, he saw his grand plans completely overthrown. The treachery, or rather the demoralization of his wearied crew, the criminal folly of some of the ringleaders, left him in a terrible situation; of the eighteen men who had sailed in the brig, four were left, abandoned without supplies, without a boat, more than twenty-five hundred miles from home!

The explosion of the _Forward_, which had just blown up before their eyes, took from them their last means of subsistence. Still, Hatteras's courage did not abandon him at this terrible crisis. The men who were left were the best of the crew; they were genuine heroes.

He made an appeal to the energy and wisdom of Dr. Clawbonny, to the devotion of Johnson and Bell, to his own faith in the enterprise; even in these desperate straits he ventured to speak of hope; his brave companions listened to him, and their courage in the past warranted confidence in their promises for the future.

The doctor, after listening to the captain's words, wanted to get an exact idea of their situation; and, leaving the others about five hundred feet from the s.h.i.+p, he made his way to the scene of the catastrophe.

Of the _Forward_, which had been built with so much care, nothing was left; pieces of ice, shapeless fragments all blackened and charred, twisted pieces of iron, ends of ropes still burning like fuse, and scattered here and there on the ice-field, testified to the force of the explosion. The cannon had been hurled to some distance, and was lying on a piece of ice that looked like a gun-carriage. The surface of the ice, for a circle of six hundred feet in diameter, was covered with fragments of all sorts; the brig's keel lay under a ma.s.s of ice; the icebergs, which had been partly melted by the fire, had already recovered their rock-like hardness.

The doctor then began to think of his ruined cabin, of his lost collections, of his precious instruments destroyed, his books torn, burned to ashes. So much that was valuable gone! He gazed with tearful eyes at this vast disaster, thinking not of the future, but of the irreparable misfortune which dealt him so severe a blow. He was immediately joined by Johnson; the old sailor's face bore signs of his recent sufferings; he had been obliged to struggle against his revolted companions, defending the s.h.i.+p which had been intrusted to his care. The doctor sadly pressed the boatswain's hand.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

"Well, my friend, what is going to become of us?" asked the doctor.

"Who can say?" answered Johnson.

"At any rate," continued the doctor, "don't let us give way to despair; let us be men!"

"Yes, Doctor," answered the old sailor, "you are right; it's when matters look worst that we most need courage; we are in a bad way; we must see how we can best get out of it."

"Poor s.h.i.+p!" said the doctor, sighing; "I had become attached to it; I had got to look on it as on my own home, and there's not left a piece that can be recognized!"

"Who would think, Doctor, that this ma.s.s of dust and ashes could be so dear to our heart?"

"And the launch," continued the doctor, gazing around, "was it destroyed too?"

"No, Doctor; Shandon and the others, who left, took it with them."

"And the gig?"

"Was broken into a thousand pieces. See, those sheets of tin are all that's left of her."

"Then we have nothing but the Halkett-boat?"[1]

[Footnote 1: Made of india-rubber, and capable of being inflated at pleasure.]

"That is all, and it is because you insisted on our taking it, that we have that."

"It's not of much use," said the doctor.

"They were a pack of miserable, cowardly traitors who ran away!" said Johnson. "May they be punished as they deserve!"

"Johnson," answered the doctor, mildly, "we must remember that their suffering had worn upon them very much. Only exceptional natures remain stanch in adversity, which completely overthrows the weak. Let us rather pity than curse them!"

After these words the doctor remained silent for a few minutes, and gazed around uneasily.

"What is become of the sledge?" asked Johnson.

"We left it a mile back."

"In care of Simpson?"

"No, my friend; poor Simpson sank under the toil of the trip."

"Dead!" cried the boatswain.

"Dead!" answered the doctor.

"Poor fellow!" said Johnson; "but who knows whether we may not soon be reduced to envying his fate?"

"But we have brought back a dying man in place of the one we lost,"

answered the doctor.

"A dying man?"

"Yes, Captain Altamont."

The doctor gave the boatswain in a few words an account of their finding him.

"An American!" said Johnson, thoughtfully.

"Yes; everything seems to point that way. But what was this _Porpoise_ which had evidently been s.h.i.+pwrecked, and what was he doing in these waters?"

"He came in order to be lost," answered Johnson; "he brought his crew to death, like all those whose foolhardiness leads them here. But, Doctor, did the expedition accomplish what it set out for?"

"Finding the coal?"

"Yes," answered Johnson.

The doctor shook his head sadly.

"None at all?" asked the old sailor.

"None; our supplies gave out, fatigue nearly conquered us. We did not even reach the spot mentioned by Edward Belcher."

"So," continued Johnson, "you have no fuel?"

"No."