CAPTAIN HATTERAS
The _Forward_, under steam, rapidly made its way between the
ice-mountains and the icebergs. Johnson was at the wheel. Shandon,
with his snow spectacles, was examining the horizon, but his joy was
of short duration, for he soon discovered that the passage ended in
a circus of mountains. However, he preferred going on, in spite of
the difficulty, to going back. The dog followed the brig at a long
distance, running along the plain, but if he lagged too far behind
a singular whistle could be distinguished, which he immediately
obeyed. The first time this whistle was heard the sailors looked round
about them; they were alone on deck all together, and no stranger
was to be seen; and yet the whistle was again heard from time to time.
Clifton was the first alarmed.
"Do you hear?" said he. "Just look how that animal answers when he
hears the whistle."
"I can scarcely believe my eyes," answered Gripper.
"It's all over!" cried Pen. "I don't go any further."
"Pen's right!" replied Brunton; "it's tempting God!"
"Tempting the devil!" replied Clifton. "I'd sooner lose my bounty
money than go a step further."
"We shall never get back!" said Bolton in despair.
The crew had arrived at the highest pitch of insubordination.
"Not a step further!" cried Wolsten. "Are you all of the same mind?"
"Ay! ay!" answered all the sailors.
"Come on, then," said Bolton; "let's go and find the commander; I'll
undertake the talking."
The sailors in a tight group swayed away towards the poop. The
_Forward_ at the time was penetrating into a vast circus, which
measured perhaps 800 feet in diameter, and with the exception of one
entrance--that by which the vessel had come--was entirely closed up.
Shandon said that he had just imprisoned himself; but what was he
to do? How were they to retrace their steps? He felt his responsibility,
and his hand grasped the telescope. The doctor, with folded arms,
kept silent; he was contemplating the walls of ice, the medium
altitude of which was over 300 feet. A foggy dome remained suspended
above the gulf. It was at this instant that Bolton addressed his speech
to the commander.
"Commander!" said he in a trembling voice, "we can't go any further."
"What do you say?" replied Shandon, whose consciousness of
disregarded authority made the blood rise to the roots of his hair.
"Commander," replied Bolton, "we say that we've done enough for that
invisible captain, and we are decided to go no further ahead."
"You are decided?" cried Shandon. "You talk thus, Bolton? Take care!"
"Your threats are all the same to us," brutally replied Pen; "we won't
go an inch further."
Shandon advanced towards the mutineers; at the same time the mate
came up and said in a whisper: "Commander, if you wish to get out
of here we haven't a minute to lose; there's an iceberg drifting up
the pass, and it is very likely to cork up all issue and keep us
prisoners."
Shandon examined the situation.
"You will give an account of your conduct later on, you fellows,"
said he. "Now heave aboard!"
The sailors rushed to their posts, and the _Forward_ quickly veered
round; the fires were stuffed with coals; the great question was to
outrun the floating mountain. It was a struggle between the brig and
the iceberg. The former, in order to get through, was running south;
the latter was drifting north, ready to close up every passage.
"Steam up! steam up!" cried Shandon. "Do you hear, Brunton?"
The _Forward_ glided like a bird amidst the struggling icebergs, which
her prow sent to the right-about; the brig's hull shivered under the
action of the screw, and the manometer indicated a prodigious tension
of steam, for it whistled with a deafening noise.
"Load the valves!" cried Shandon, and the engineer obeyed at the risk
of blowing up the ship; but his despairing efforts were in vain. The
iceberg, caught up by an undercurrent, rapidly approached the pass.
The brig was still about three cables' length from it, when the
mountain, entering like a corner-stone into the open space, strongly
adhered to its neighbours and closed up all issue.
"We are lost!" cried Shandon, who could not retain the imprudent
words.
"Lost!" repeated the crew.
"Let them escape who can!" said some.
"Lower the shore boats!" said others.
"To the steward's room!" cried Pen and several of his band, "and if
we are to be drowned, let's drown ourselves in gin!"
Disorder among the men was at its height. Shandon felt himself
overcome; when he wished to command, he stammered and hesitated. His
thought was unable to make way through his words. The doctor was
walking about in agitation. Johnson stoically folded his arms and
said nothing. All at once a strong, imperious, and energetic voice
was heard to pronounce these words:
"Every man to his post and tack about!"
Johnson started, and, hardly knowing what he did, turned the wheel
rapidly. He was just in time, for the brig, launched at full speed,
was about to crush herself against her prison walls. But while Johnson
was instinctively obeying, Shandon, Clawbonny, the crew, and all down
to the stoker Warren, who had abandoned his fires, even black Strong,
who had left his cooking, were all mustered on deck, and saw emerge
from that cabin the only man who was in possession of the key, and
that man was Garry, the sailor.
"Sir!" cried Shandon, becoming pale. "Garry--you--by what right do
you command here?"
"Dick," called out Garry, reproducing that whistle which had so much
surprised the crew. The dog, at the sound of his right name, jumped
with one bound on to the poop and lay quietly down at his master's
feet. The crew did not say a word. The key which the captain of the
_Forward_ alone possessed, the dog sent by him, and who came thus
to verify his identity, that commanding accent which it was impossible
to mistake--all this acted strongly on the minds of the sailors, and
was sufficient to establish Garry's authority.
Besides, Garry was no longer recognisable; he had cut off the long
whiskers which had covered his face, which made it look more energetic
and imperious than ever; dressed in the clothes of his rank which
had been deposited in the cabin, he appeared in the insignia of
commander.
Then immediately, with that mobility which characterised them, the
crew of the _Forward_ cried out--"Three cheers for the captain!"
"Shandon!" said the latter to his second, "muster the crew; I am going
to inspect it!"
Shandon obeyed and gave orders with an altered voice. The captain
advanced to meet his officers and men, saying something suitable to
each, and treating each according to his past conduct. When he had
finished the inspection, he returned on to the poop, and with a calm
voice pronounced the following words:
"Officers and sailors, like you, I am English, and my motto is that
of Nelson, 'England expects that every man will do his duty.' As an
Englishman I am resolved, we are resolved, that no bolder men shall
go further than we have been. As an Englishman I will not allow, we
will not allow, other people to have the glory of pushing further
north themselves. If ever human foot can step upon the land of the
North Pole, it shall be the foot of an Englishman. Here is our
country's flag. I have equipped this vessel, and consecrated my
fortune to this enterprise, and, if necessary, I shall consecrate
to it my life and yours; for I am determined that these colours shall
float on the North Pole. Take courage. From this day, for every degree
we can gain northwards the sum of a thousand pounds will be awarded
to you. There are ninety, for we are now in the seventy-second. Count
them. Besides, my name is enough. It means energy and patriotism.
I am Captain Hatteras!"
"Captain Hatteras!" exclaimed Shandon, and that name, well known to
English sailors, was whispered amongst the crew.
"Now," continued Hatteras, "anchor the brig to the ice, put out the
fires, and each of you return to your usual work. Shandon, I wish
to hold a council with you relative to affairs on board. Join me with
the doctor, Wall, and the boatswain in my cabin. Johnson, disperse
the men."
Hatteras, calm and haughty, quietly left the poop. In the meantime
Shandon was anchoring the brig.
Who, then, was this Hatteras, and for what reason did his name make
such a profound impression upon the crew? John Hatteras was the only
son of a London brewer, who died in 1852 worth six millions of money.
Still young, he embraced the maritime career in spite of the splendid
fortune awaiting him. Not that he felt any vocation for commerce,
but the instinct of geographical discoveries was dear to him. He had
always dreamt of placing his foot where no mortal foot had yet soiled
the ground.
At the age of twenty he was already in possession of the vigorous
constitution of a thin and sanguine man; an energetic face, with lines
geometrically traced; a high and perpendicular forehead; cold but
handsome eyes; thin lips, which set off a mouth from which words rarely
issued; a middle stature; solidly-jointed limbs, put in motion by
iron muscles; the whole forming a man endowed with a temperament fit
for anything. When you saw him you felt he was daring; when you heard
him you knew he was coldly determined; his was a character that never
drew back, ready to stake the lives of others as well as his own.
It was well to think twice before following him in his expeditions.
John Hatteras was proud of being an Englishman. A Frenchman once said
to him, with what he thought was refined politeness and amiability:
"If I were not a Frenchman I should like to be an Englishman."
"And if I were not an Englishman," answered Hatteras, "I should like
to be an Englishman."
That answer revealed the character of the man. It was a great grief
to him that Englishmen had not the monopoly of geographical
discoveries, and were, in fact, rather behind other nations in that
field.
Christopher Columbus, the discoverer of America, was a Genoese; Vasco
da Gama, a Portuguese, discovered India; another Portuguese,
Fernando de Andrada, China; and a third, Magellan, the Terra del Fuego.
Canada was discovered by Jacques Cartier, a Frenchman; Labrador,
Brazil, the Cape of Good Hope, the Azores, Madeira, Newfoundland,
Guinea, Congo, Mexico, Cape Blanco, Greenland, Iceland, the South
Seas, California, Japan, Cambodia, Peru, Kamtchatka, the Philippines,
Spitzbergen, Cape Horn, Behring's Straits, Tasmania, New Zealand,
New Brittany, New Holland, Louisiana, Jean Mayen Island, were
discovered by Icelanders, Scandinavians, French, Russians,
Portuguese, Danes, Spaniards, Genoese, and Dutch, but not one by an
Englishman. Captain Hatteras could not reconcile himself to the fact
that Englishmen were excluded from the glorious list of navigators
who made the great discoveries of the 15th and 16th centuries.
Hatteras consoled himself a little when he turned to more modern times.
Then Englishmen had the best of it with Sturt, Burke, Wills, King,
and Grey in Australia; with Palliser in America; with Cyril Graham,
Wadington, and Cummingham in India; with Burton, Speke, Grant, and
Livingstone in Africa.
But for a man like Hatteras this was not enough; from his point of
view these bold travellers were _improvers_ rather than _inventors_;
and he was determined to do something better, and he would have
invented a country if he could, only to have the honour of discovering
it. Now he had noticed that, although Englishmen did not form a
majority amongst ancient discoverers, and that he had to go back to
Cook in 1774 to obtain New Caledonia and the Sandwich Isles, where
the unfortunate captain perished in 1778, yet there existed,
nevertheless, a corner of the globe where they seemed to have united
all their efforts. This corner was precisely the boreal lands and
seas of North America. The list of Polar discoveries may be thus
written:
Nova Zembla, discovered by Willoughby, in 1553; Weigatz Island, by
Barrough, in 1556; the West Coast of Greenland, by Davis, in 1585;
Davis's Straits, by Davis, in 1587; Spitzbergen, by Willoughby, in
1596; Hudson's Bay, by Hudson, in 1610; Baffin's Bay, by Baffin, in
1616.
In more modern times, Hearne, Mackenzie, John Ross, Parry, Franklin,
Richardson, Beechey, James Ross, Back, Dease, Simpson, Rae,
Inglefield, Belcher, Austin, Kellett, Moore, McClure, Kennedy, and
McClintock have continually searched those unknown lands.
The limits of the northern coasts of America had been fixed, and the
North-West passage almost discovered, but this was not enough; there
was something better still to be done, and John Hatteras had twice
attempted it by equipping two ships at his own expense. He wanted
to reach the North Pole, and thus crown the series of English
discoveries by one of the most illustrious attempts. To attain the
Pole was the aim of his life.
After a few successful cruises in the Southern seas, Hatteras
endeavoured for the first time, in 1846, to go north by Baffin's Sea;
but he could not get beyond the seventy-fourth degree of latitude;
he was then commanding the sloop _Halifax_. His crew suffered
atrocious torments, and John Hatteras pushed his adventurous
rashness so far, that, afterwards, sailors were little tempted to
re-commence similar expeditions under such a chief.
However, in 1850 Hatteras succeeded in enrolling on the schooner
_Farewell_ about twenty determined men, tempted principally by the
high prize offered for their audacity. It was upon that occasion that
Dr. Clawbonny entered into correspondence with John Hatteras, whom
he did not know, requesting to join the expedition, but happily for
the doctor the post was already filled up. The _Farewell_, following
the track taken in 1817 by the _Neptune_ from Aberdeen, got up to
the north of Spitzbergen as far as the seventy-sixth degree of
latitude. There the expedition was compelled to winter. But the
sufferings of the crew from the intense cold were so great that not
a single man saw England again, with the exception of Hatteras himself,
who was brought back to his own country by a Danish whaler after a
walk of more than two hundred miles across the ice.
The sensation produced by the return of this one man was immense.
Who in future would dare to follow Hatteras in his mad attempts?
However, he did not despair of beginning again. His father, the brewer,
died, and he became possessor of a nabob's fortune. Soon after a
geographical fact bitterly stirred up John Hatteras. A brig, the
_Advance_, manned by seventeen men, equipped by a merchant named
Grinnell, under the command of Dr. Kane, and sent in search of Sir
John Franklin, advanced in 1853 through Baffin's Sea and Smith's
Strait, beyond the eighty-second degree of boreal latitude, much
nearer the Pole than any of his predecessors. Now, this vessel was
American, Grinnell was American, and Kane was American. The
Englishman's disdain for the Yankee will be easily understood; in
the heart of Hatteras it changed to hatred; he was resolved to outdo
his audacious competitor and reach the Pole itself.
For two years he had been living incognito in Liverpool, passing
himself off as a sailor; he recognised in Richard Shandon the man
he wanted; he sent him an offer by an anonymous letter, and one to
Dr. Clawbonny at the same time. The _Forward_ was built, armed, and
equipped. Hatteras took great care to conceal his name, for had it
been known he would not have found a single man to accompany him.
He was determined not to take the command of the brig except in a
moment of danger, and when his crew had gone too far to draw back.
He had in reserve, as we have seen, such offers of money to make to
the men that not one of them would refuse to follow him to the other
end of the world; and, in fact, it was right to the other end of the
world that he meant to go. Circumstances had become critical, and
John Hatteras had made himself known. His dog, the faithful Dick,
the companion of his voyages, was the first to recognise him. Luckily
for the brave and unfortunately for the timid, it was well and duly
established that John Hatteras was the captain of the _Forward_.