“Good God!” cried Simpson, drawing back with fright.
“What the devil’s that?” said Foker, and exclamations rose up in every direction.
“It is going to smash us!”
“We are lost!”
“Mr. Wall! Mr. Wall!”
“It’s all over with us!”
“Commander! Commander!”
These cries were simultaneously uttered by the men on watch. Wall fled to the quarter-deck, and Shandon, followed by the doctor, rushed on deck to look. In the midst of the fog the Devil’s Thumb seemed to have suddenly neared the brig, and seemed to have grown in a most fantastic manner. At its summit rose up a second cone, turned upside down and spindled on its point; its enormous mass threatened to crush the ship, as it was oscillating and ready to fall. It was a most fearful sight; every one instinctively drew back, and several sailors, leaping on to the ice, abandoned the ship.
“Let no one move!” cried the commander in a severe voice. “Every one to his post!”
“How now, my friends? There’s nothing to be frightened at!” said the doctor. “There’s no danger! Look, commander, look ahead, Mr. Wall; it’s only an effect of the mirage, nothing else.”
“You are quite right, Mr. Clawbonny,” answered Johnson; “those fools were frightened at a shadow.”
After the doctor had spoken most of the sailors drew near, and their fear changed to admiration at the wonderful phenomenon, which shortly disappeared from sight.
“They call that a mirage?” said Clifton. “Well, you may believe me that the devil has something to do with it.”
“That’s certain!” replied Gripper.
But when the fog cleared away it disclosed to the eyes of the commander an immense free and unexpected passage; it seemed to run away from the coast, and he therefore determined to seize such a favourable hazard. Men were placed on each side of the creek, hawsers were lowered down to them, and they began to tow the vessel in a northerly direction. During long hours this work was actively executed in silence. Shandon caused the steam to be got up, in order to take advantage of the fortunate discovery of this channel.
“This,” said he to Johnson, “is a most providential hazard, and if we can only get a few miles ahead, we shall probably get to the end of our misfortunes.”
“Brunton! stir up the fires, and as soon as there’s enough pressure let me know. In the meantime our men will pluck up their courage—that will be so much gained. They are in a hurry to run away from the Devil’s Thumb; we’ll take advantage of their good inclinations!”
All at once the progress of the Forward was abruptly arrested.
“What’s up?” cried Shandon. “I say, Wall! have we broken our tow-ropes?”
“Not at all, commander,” answered Wall, looking over the side. “Hallo! Here are the men coming back again. They are climbing the ship’s side as if the devil was at their heels.”
“What the deuce can it be?” cried Shandon, rushing forward.
“On board! On board!” cried the terrified sailors.
Shandon looked in a northerly direction, and shuddered in spite of himself. A strange animal, with appalling movements, whose foaming tongue emerged from enormous jaws, was leaping about at a cable’s length from the ship. In appearance he seemed to be about twenty feet high, with hair like bristles; he was following up the sailors, whilst his formidable tail, ten feet long, was sweeping the snow and throwing it up in thick whirlwinds. The sight of such a monster riveted the most daring to the spot.
“It’s a bear!” said one.
“It’s the Gevaudan beast!”
“It’s the lion of the Apocalypse!”
Shandon ran to his cabin for a gun he always kept loaded. The doctor armed himself, and held himself in readiness to fire upon an animal which, by its dimensions, recalled the antediluvian quadrupeds. He neared the ship in immense leaps; Shandon and the doctor fired at the same time, when, suddenly, the report of their firearms, shaking the atmospheric stratum, produced an unexpected effect. The doctor looked attentively, and burst out laughing.
“It’s the refraction!” he exclaimed.
“Only the refraction!” repeated Shandon. But a fearful exclamation from the crew interrupted them.
“The dog!” said Clifton.
“The dog, captain!” repeated all his comrades.
“Himself!” cried Pen; “always that cursed brute.”
They were not mistaken—it was the dog. Having got loose from his shackles, he had regained the surface by another crevice. At that instant the refraction, through a phenomenon common to these latitudes, caused him to appear under formidable dimensions, which the shaking of the air had dispersed; but the vexatious effect was none the less produced upon the minds of the sailors, who were very little disposed to admit an explanation of the fact by purely physical reasons. The adventure of the Devil’s Thumb, the reappearance of the dog under such fantastic circumstances, gave the finishing touch to their mental faculties, and murmurs broke out on all sides.
CHAPTER XII
CAPTAIN HATTERAS
The Forward, under steam, rapidly made its way between the icemountains 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