Good-by to England! Good-by to inhabited and civilized regions of the
earth!
Two years have passed since the voyagers sailed from their native
shores. The enterprise has failed--the Arctic expedition is lost and
ice-locked in the Polar wastes. The good ships _Wanderer_ and _Sea-mew_,
entombed in ice, will never ride the buoyant waters more. Stripped of
their lighter timbers, both vessels have been used for the construction
of huts, erected on the nearest land.
The largest of the two buildings which now shelter the lost men is
occupied by the surviving officers and crew of the _Sea-mew_. On one
side of the principal room are the sleeping berths and the fire-place.
The other side discloses a broad doorway (closed by a canvas screen),
which serves as a means of communication with an inner apartment,
devoted to the superior officers. A hammock is slung to the rough
raftered roof of the main room, as an extra bed. A man, completely
hidden by his bedclothes, is sleeping in the hammock. By the fireside
there is a second man--supposed to be on the watch--fast asleep, poor
wretch! at the present moment. Behind the sleeper stands an old cask,
which serves for a table. The objects at present on the table are, a
pestle and mortar, and a saucepanful of the dry bones of animals--in
plain words, the dinner for the day. By way of ornament to the dull
brown walls, icicles appear in the crevices of the timber, gleaming at
intervals in the red fire-light. No wind whistles outside the lonely
dwelling--no cry of bird or beast is heard. Indoors, and out-of-doors,
the awful silence of the Polar desert reigns, for the moment,
undisturbed.