DISTRESS.

On the 20th of January most of the crew had not the strength to leave their beds.  Each, independently of his woollen coverings, had a buffalo-skin to protect him against the cold; but as soon as he put his arms outside the clothes, he felt a pain which obliged him quickly to cover them again.

Meanwhile, Louis having lit the stove fire, Penellan, Misonne, and Andre Vasling left their beds and crouched around it.  Penellan prepared some boiling coffee, which gave them some strength, as well as Marie, who joined them in partaking of it.

Louis Cornbutte approached his father’s bedside; the old man was almost motionless, and his limbs were helpless from disease.  He muttered some disconnected words, which carried grief to his son’s heart.

“Louis,” said he, “I am dying.  O, how I suffer!  Save me!”

Louis took a decisive resolution.  He went up to the mate, and, controlling himself with difficulty, said, ­

“Do you know where the lemons are, Vasling?”

“In the steward’s room, I suppose,” returned the mate, without stirring.

“You know they are not there, as you have stolen them!”

“You are master, Louis Cornbutte, and may say and do anything.”

“For pity’s sake, Andre Vasling, my father is dying!  You can save him, ­answer!”

“I have nothing to answer,” replied Andre Vasling.

“Wretch!” cried Penellan, throwing himself, cutlass in hand, on the mate.

“Help, friends!” shouted Vasling, retreating.

Aupic and the two Norwegian sailors jumped from their beds and placed themselves behind him.  Turquiette, Penellan, and Louis prepared to defend themselves.  Pierre Nouquet and Gradlin, though suffering much, rose to second them.

“You are still too strong for us,” said Vasling.  “We do not wish to fight on an uncertainty.”

The sailors were so weak that they dared not attack the four rebels, for, had they failed, they would have been lost.

“Andre Vasling!” said Louis Cornbutte, in a gloomy tone, “if my father dies, you will have murdered him; and I will kill you like a dog!”

Vasling and his confederates retired to the other end of the cabin, and did not reply.

It was then necessary to renew the supply of wood, and, in spite of the cold, Louis went on deck and began to cut away a part of the barricading, but was obliged to retreat in a quarter of an hour, for he was in danger of falling, overcome by the freezing air.  As he passed, he cast a glance at the thermometer left outside, and saw that the mercury was frozen.  The cold, then, exceeded forty-two degrees below zero.  The weather was dry, and the wind blew from the north.

On the 26th the wind changed to the north-east, and the thermometer outside stood at thirty-five degrees.  Jean Cornbutte was in agony, and his son had searched in vain for some remedy with which to relieve his pain.  On this day, however, throwing himself suddenly on Vasling, he managed to snatch a lemon from him which he was about to suck.

Vasling made no attempt to recover it.  He seemed to be awaiting an opportunity to accomplish his wicked designs.

The lemon-juice somewhat relieved old Cornbutte, but it was necessary to continue the remedy.  Marie begged Vasling on her knees to produce the lemons, but he did not reply, and soon Penellan heard the wretch say to his accomplices, ­

“The old fellow is dying.  Gervique, Gradlin, and Nouquet are not much better.  The others are daily losing their strength.  The time is near when their lives will belong to us!”

It was then resolved by Louis Cornbutte and his adherents not to wait, and to profit by the little strength which still remained to them.  They determined to act the next night, and to kill these wretches, so as not to be killed by them.

The temperature rose a little.  Louis Cornbutte ventured to go out with his gun in search of some game.

He proceeded some three miles from the ship, and often, deceived by the effects of the mirage and refraction, he went farther away than he intended.  It was imprudent, for recent tracts of ferocious animals were to be seen.  He did not wish, however, to return without some fresh meat, and continued on his route; but he then experienced a strange feeling, which turned his head.  It was what is called “white vertigo.”

The reflection of the ice hillocks and fields affected him from head to foot, and it seemed to him that the dazzling colour penetrated him and caused an irresistible nausea.  His eye was attacked.  His sight became uncertain.  He thought he should go mad with the glare.  Without fully understanding this terrible effect, he advanced on his way, and soon put up a ptarmigan, which he eagerly pursued.  The bird soon fell, and in order to reach it Louis leaped from an ice-block and fell heavily; for the leap was at least ten feet, and the refraction made him think it was only two.  The vertigo then seized him, and, without knowing why, he began to call for help, though he had not been injured by the fall.  The cold began to take him, and he rose with pain, urged by the sense of self-preservation.

Suddenly, without being able to account for it, he smelt an odour of boiling fat.  As the ship was between him and the wind, he supposed that this odour proceeded from her, and could not imagine why they should be cooking fat, this being a dangerous thing to do, as it was likely to attract the white bears.

Louis returned towards the ship, absorbed in reflections which soon inspired his excited mind with terror.  It seemed to him as if colossal masses were moving on the horizon, and he asked himself if there was not another ice-quake.  Several of these masses interposed themselves between him and the ship, and appeared to rise about its sides.  He stopped to gaze at them more attentively, when to his horror he recognized a herd of gigantic bears.

These animals had been attracted by the odour of grease which had surprised Lonis.  He sheltered himself behind a hillock, and counted three, which were scaling the blocks on which the “Jeune-Hardie” was resting.

Nothing led him to suppose that this danger was known in the interior of the ship, and a terrible anguish oppressed his heart.  How resist these redoubtable enemies?  Would Andre Vasling and his confederates unite with the rest on board in the common peril?  Could Penellan and the others, half starved, benumbed with cold, resist these formidable animals, made wild by unassuaged hunger?  Would they not be surprised by an unlooked-for attack?

Louis made these reflections rapidly.  The bears had crossed the blocks, and were mounting to the assault of the ship.  He might then quit the block which protected him; he went nearer, clinging to the ice, and could soon see the enormous animals tearing the tent with their paws, and leaping on the deck.  He thought of firing his gun to give his comrades notice; but if these came up without arms, they would inevitably be torn in pieces, and nothing showed as yet that they were even aware of their new danger.