THE WAY NORTHWARD.
The crew seemed to have returned to their habits of discipline and
obedience. Their duties were slight and infrequent, so that they had
plenty of leisure. The temperature never fell below the
freezing-point, and the thaw removed the greatest obstacles from their
path.
Duke had made friends with Dr. Clawbonny. They got on admirably
together. But as in friendship one friend is always sacrificed to the
other, it must be said that the doctor was not the other. Duke did
with him whatever he pleased. The doctor obeyed him as a dog obeys his
master. Moreover, Duke conducted himself very amicably with most of
the officers and sailors; only, instinctively doubtless, he avoided
Shandon; he had, too, a grudge against Pen and Foker; his hatred for
them manifested itself in low growls when they came near him. They,
for their part, did not dare attack the captain's dog, "his familiar
spirit," as Clifton called him.
In a word, the crew had taken courage again.
[Illustration]
"It seems to me," said James Wall one day to Richard Shandon, "that
the men took the captain's words for earnest; they seem to be sure of
success."
"They are mistaken," answered Shandon; "if they would only reflect,
and consider our condition, they would see we are simply going from
one imprudence to another."
"Still," resumed Wall, "we are in a more open sea; we are going along
a well-known route; don't you exaggerate somewhat, Shandon?"
"Not a bit, Wall; the hate and jealousy, if you please, with which
Hatteras inspires me, don't blind my eyes. Say, have you seen the
coal-bunkers lately?"
"No," answered Wall.
"Well! go below, and you'll see how near we are to the end of our
supply. By right, we ought to be going under sail, and only starting
our engine to make headway against currents or contrary winds; our
fuel ought to be burned only with the strictest economy, for who can
say where and for how long we may be detained? But Hatteras is pushed
by this mania of going forward, of reaching the inaccessible Pole, and
he doesn't care for such a detail. Whether the wind is fair or foul,
he goes on under steam; and if he goes on we run a risk of being very
much embarrassed, if not lost."
"Is that so, Shandon? That is serious!"
"You are right, Wall, it is; not only would the engine be of no use to
us if we got into a tight place, but what are we to do in the winter?
We ought to take some precautions against the cold in a country where
the mercury often freezes in the thermometer."
"But if I'm not mistaken, Shandon, the captain intends getting a new
supply at Beechey Island; they say there is a great quantity there."
"Can any one choose where he'll go in these seas, Wall? Can one count
on finding such or such a channel free of ice? And if he misses
Beechey Island, or can't reach it, what is to become of us?"
"You are right, Shandon; Hatteras seems to me unwise; but why don't
you say something of this sort to him?"
"No, Wall," answered Shandon, with ill-disguised bitterness, "I have
made up my mind not to say a word; I am not responsible any longer for
the ship; I shall await events; if I receive any commands, I obey, and
I don't proclaim my opinions."
"Let me tell you you are wrong, Shandon; for the well-being of all is
at stake, and the captain's imprudence may cost us all dear."
"And if I were to speak, Wall, would he listen to me?"
Wall did not dare say he would.
"But," he added, "he would perhaps listen to remonstrances of the
crew."
"The crew," said Shandon, shrugging his shoulders; "but, my dear Wall,
haven't you noticed that they care for everything else more than for
their safety? They know they're getting near latitude 72 degrees, and
that a thousand pounds is paid for every degree of latitude beyond
which is reached."
"You are right, Shandon," answered Wall, "and the captain has taken
the surest means of securing his men."
"Without doubt," answered Shandon; "for the present, at least."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that all will go very well in the absence of all dangers and
fatigues, in an open sea; Hatteras has caught them by his money; but
what is done for pay is ill done. But once let hardships, dangers,
discomfort, sickness, melancholy, and fierce cold stare them in the
face,--and we are flying towards them now,--and you will see whether
they remember the pay they are to get."
"So, in your opinion, Shandon, Hatteras will fail?"
"Exactly; he will fail. In such an enterprise, there should be an
identity of interests among the leaders, a sympathy which is lacking
here. Besides, Hatteras is mad; his whole past proves it! But we shall
see! Circumstances may arise in which the command of the ship will
have to be given to a less foolhardy captain--"
"Still," said Wall, shaking his head doubtfully, "Hatteras will always
have on his side--"
"He will have," interrupted Shandon,--"he will have that Dr.
Clawbonny, who only cares to study; Johnson, who is a slave to
discipline, and who never takes the trouble to reason; perhaps one or
two besides, like Bell, the carpenter,--four at the most, and there
are eighteen on board! No, Wall, Hatteras has not the confidence of
the crew; he knows it well, and he tries to make up for it by bribery;
he made a good use of the account of Franklin's catastrophe to create
a different feeling in their excited minds; but that won't last, I
tell you; and if he don't reach Beechey Island, he is lost!"
"If the crew suspected--"
"I beg of you," said Shandon, quickly, "not to say a word about this
to the crew; they'll find it out for themselves. Now, at any rate, it
is well to go on towards the north. But who can say whether what
Hatteras takes for a step towards the Pole may not be really retracing
our steps? At the end of MacClintock Channel is Melville Bay, and
thence open the straits which lead back to Baffin's Bay. Hatteras had
better take care! The way west is easier than the way north."
From these words Shandon's state of mind may be judged, and how
justified the captain was in suspecting a treacherous disposition in
him.
Shandon, moreover, was right when he ascribed the present satisfaction
of the crew to the prospect they had of passing latitude 72 degrees.
This greed of gold seized the least audacious. Clifton had made out
every one's share with great exactness. Leaving out the captain and
the doctor, who could not be admitted to the division, there were
sixteen men on board the _Forward_. The amount was a thousand pounds,
that was 72 pounds 10_s_. for each man, for every degree. If they
should ever reach the Pole the eighteen degrees to be crossed would
give each one a sum of 1,125 pounds, a fair fortune. This whim would
cost the captain 18,000 pounds; but he was rich enough to pay for such
a costly trip to the Pole.
These calculations aroused wonderfully the avarice of the crew, as can
be readily believed, and more than one longed to pass latitude 72
degrees, who, a fortnight before, rejoiced to be sailing southward.
The _Forward_ sailed by Cape Alworth June 16th. Mount Rawlinson raised
its white peaks towards the sky; the snow and mist exaggerated its
size so that it appeared colossal; the temperature remained a few
degrees above the freezing-point; cascades and cataracts appeared on
the sides of the mountain; avalanches kept falling with a roar like
that of artillery. The long stretches of glaciers made a loud echo.
The contrast between this wintry scene and the thaw made a wonderful
sight. The brig sailed along very near the coast; they were able to
see on some sheltered rocks a few bushes bearing modest little roses,
some reddish moss, and a budding dwarf willow barely rising above the
ground.
At last, June 19th, in latitude 72 degrees, they doubled Point Minto,
which forms one of the extremities of Ommanney Bay; the brig entered
Melville Bay, called "the Sea of Money" by Bolton; this good-natured
fellow used to be always jesting on this subject, much to Clawbonny's
amusement.
The obstacles to their course were but few, for June 23d, in the teeth
of a strong northeasterly breeze, they passed latitude 74 degrees.
This was at the middle of Melville Bay, one of the largest seas of
this region. It was first crossed by Captain Parry, in his great
expedition of 1819, and there it was that his crew won the 5,000
pounds promised by act of Parliament.
Clifton contented himself with remarking that there were two degrees
between latitude 72 degrees and latitude 74 degrees: that was 125
pounds to his credit. But they told him that a fortune did not amount
to much up there, and that a man could be called rich only when he
could have a chance to drink to his wealth; it seemed better to wait
for the moment when they could meet at some tavern in Liverpool before
rejoicing and rubbing their hands.