THE DEATH OF SIMPSON
The travellers went on their weary way, each thinking of the discovery
they had just made. Hatteras frowned with uneasiness.
"What can the _Porpoise_ be?" he asked himself. "Is it a ship? and
if so, what was it doing so near the Pole?"
At this thought he shivered, but not from the cold. The doctor and
Bell only thought of the result their discovery might have for others
or for themselves. But the difficulties and obstacles in their way
soon made them oblivious to everything but their own preservation.
Simpson's condition grew worse; the doctor saw that death was near.
He could do nothing, and was suffering cruelly on his own account
from a painful ophthalmia which might bring on blindness if neglected.
The twilight gave them enough light to hurt the eyes when reflected
by the snow; it was difficult to guard against the reflection, for
the spectacle-glasses got covered with a layer of opaque ice which
obstructed the view, and when so much care was necessary for the
dangers of the route, it was important to see clearly; however, the
doctor and Bell took it in turns to cover their eyes or to guide the
sledge. The soil was volcanic, and by its inequalities made it very
difficult to draw the sledge, the frame of which was getting worn
out. Another difficulty was the effect of the uniform brilliancy of
the snow; the ground seemed to fall beneath the feet of the travellers,
and they experienced the same sensation as that of the rolling of
a ship; they could not get accustomed to it, and it made them sleepy,
and they often walked on half in a dream. Then some unexpected shock,
fall, or obstacle would wake them up from their inertia, which
afterwards took possession of them again.
On the 25th of January they began to descend, and their dangers
increased. The least slip might send them down a precipice, and there
they would have been infallibly lost. Towards evening an extremely
violent tempest swept the snow-clad summits; they were obliged to
lie down on the ground, and the temperature was so low that they were
in danger of being frozen to death. Bell, with the help of Hatteras,
built a snow-house, in which the poor fellows took shelter; there
they partook of a little pemmican and warm tea; there were only a
few gallons of spirits of wine left, and they were obliged to use
them to quench their thirst, as they could not take snow in its natural
state; it must be melted. In temperate countries, where the
temperature scarcely falls below freezing point, it is not injurious;
but above the Polar circle it gets so cold that it cannot be touched
more than a red-hot iron; there is such a difference of temperature
that its absorption produces suffocation. The Esquimaux would rather
suffer the greatest torments than slake their thirst with snow.
The doctor took his turn to watch at three o'clock in the morning,
when the tempest was at its height; he was leaning in a corner of
the snow-house, when a lamentable groan from Simpson drew his
attention; he rose to go to him, and struck his head against the roof;
without thinking of the accident he began to rub Simpson's swollen
limbs; after about a quarter of an hour he got up again, and bumped
his head again, although he was kneeling then.
"That's very queer," he said to himself.
He lifted his hand above his head, and felt that the roof was lowering.
"Good God!" he cried; "Hatteras! Bell!"
His cries awoke his companions, who got up quickly, and bumped
themselves too; the darkness was thick.
"The roof is falling in!" cried the doctor.
They all rushed out, dragging Simpson with them; they had no sooner
left their dangerous retreat, than it fell in with a great noise.
The poor fellows were obliged to take refuge under the tent covering,
which was soon covered with a thick layer of snow, which, as a bad
conductor, prevented the travellers being frozen alive. The tempest
continued all through the night. When Bell harnessed the dogs the
next morning he found that some of them had begun to eat their leather
harness, and that two of them were very ill, and could not go much
further. However, the caravan set out again; there only remained sixty
miles to go. On the 26th, Bell, who went on in front, called out
suddenly to his companions. They ran up to him, and he pointed to
a gun leaning against an iceberg.
"A gun!" cried the doctor.
Hatteras took it; it was loaded and in good condition.
"The men from the _Porpoise_ can't be far off," said the doctor.
Hatteras remarked that the gun was of American manufacture, and his
hands crisped the frozen barrel. He gave orders to continue the march,
and they kept on down the mountain slope. Simpson seemed deprived
of all feeling; he had no longer the strength to complain. The tempest
kept on, and the sledge proceeded more and more slowly; they scarcely
made a few miles in twenty-four hours, and in spite of the strictest
economy, the provisions rapidly diminished; but as long as they had
enough for the return journey, Hatteras kept on.
On the 27th they found a sextant half-buried in the snow, then a
leather bottle; the latter contained brandy, or rather a lump of ice,
with a ball of snow in the middle, which represented the spirit; it
could not be used. It was evident that they were following in the
steps of some poor shipwrecked fellows who, like them, had taken the
only practicable route. The doctor looked carefully round for other
cairns, but in vain. Sad thoughts came into his mind; he could not
help thinking that it would be a good thing not to meet with their
predecessors; what could he and his companions do for them? They
wanted help themselves; their clothes were in rags, and they had not
enough to eat. If their predecessors were numerous they would all
die of hunger. Hatteras seemed to wish to avoid them, and could he
be blamed? But these men might be their fellow-countrymen, and,
however slight might be the chance of saving them, ought they not
to try it? He asked Bell what he thought about it, but the poor fellow's
heart was hardened by his own suffering, and he did not answer.
Clawbonny dared not question Hatteras, so he left it to Providence.
In the evening of the 27th, Simpson appeared to be at the last
extremity; his limbs were already stiff and frozen; his difficult
breathing formed a sort of mist round his head, and convulsive
movements announced that his last hour was come. The expression of
his face was terrible, desperate, and he threw looks of powerless
anger towards the captain. He accused him silently, and Hatteras
avoided him and became more taciturn and wrapped up in himself than
ever. The following night was frightful; the tempest redoubled in
violence; the tent was thrown down three times, and the snowdrifts
buried the poor fellows, blinded them, froze them, and wounded them
with the sharp icicles struck off the surrounding icebergs. The dogs
howled lamentably. Simpson lay exposed to the cruel atmosphere. Bell
succeeded in getting up the tent again, which, though it did not
protect them from the cold, kept out the snow. But a more violent
gust blew it down a fourth time, and dragged it along in its fury.
"Oh, we can't bear it any longer!" cried Bell.
"Courage, man, courage!" answered the doctor, clinging to him in order
to prevent themselves rolling down a ravine. Simpson's death-rattle
was heard. All at once, with a last effort, he raised himself up and
shook his fist at Hatteras, who was looking at him fixedly, then gave
a fearful cry, and fell back dead in the midst of his unfinished
threat.
"He is dead!" cried the doctor.
"Dead!" repeated Bell.
Hatteras advanced towards the corpse, but was driven back by a gust
of wind.
Poor Simpson was the first victim to the murderous climate, the first
to pay with his life the unreasonable obstinacy of the captain. The
dead man had called Hatteras an assassin, but he did not bend beneath
the accusation. A single tear escaped from his eyes and froze on his
pale cheek. The doctor and Bell looked at him with a sort of terror.
Leaning on his stick, he looked like the genius of the North, upright
in the midst of the whirlwind, and frightful in his immobility.
He remained standing thus till the first dawn of twilight, bold,
tenacious, indomitable, and seemed to defy the tempest that roared
round him.