“This stone is erected near the place where they passed their first Arctic winter, and from whence they departed to conquer obstacles or to die.
“It perpetuates the regret of their countrymen and friends who admire them, and the anguish, conquered by Faith, of her who lost in the chief of the expedition the most devoted and most affectionate of husbands.
“It is thus that He led them to the supreme haven where all men take their rest.
“1855.”
This stone, on a forlorn coast of these far-off regions, appealed mournfully to the heart; the doctor, in presence of these touching regrets, felt his eyes fill with tears. At the very same place which Franklin and his companions passed full of energy and hope, there only remained a block of marble in remembrance! And notwithstanding this sombre warning of destiny, the Forward was going to follow in the track of the Erebus and the Terror. Hatteras was the first to rouse himself from the perilous contemplation, and quickly climbed a rather steep hill, almost entirely bare of snow.
“Captain,” said Johnson, following him, “we shall see the magazines from here.”
Shandon and the doctor joined them on the summit. But from there the eye contemplated the vast plains, on which there remained no vestige of a habitation.
“That is singular!” cried the boatswain.
“Well, and where are the magazines?” said Hatteras quickly.
“I don’t know—I don’t see–-” stammered Johnson.
“You have mistaken the way,” said the doctor.
“It seemed to me that this was the very place,” continued Johnson.
“Well,” said Hatteras, impatiently “where are we to go now?”
“We had better go down, for I may be mistaken. I may have forgotten the exact locality in seven years!”
“Especially when the country is so uniformly monotonous!” added the doctor.
“And yet–-” murmured Johnson.
Shandon had not spoken a word. After walking for a few minutes, Johnson stopped.
“But no,” he cried, “I am not mistaken!”
“Well?” said Hatteras, looking round him.
“Do you see that swell of the ground?” asked the boatswain, pointing to a sort of mound with three distinct swells on it.
“What do you conclude from that?” asked the doctor.
“Those are the three graves of Franklin’s sailors. I am sure now that I am not mistaken; the habitations ought to be about a hundred feet from here, and if they are not, they–-“
He dared not finish his sentence; Hatteras had rushed forward, a prey to violent despair. There, where the wished-for stores on which he had counted ought to have been, there ruin, pillage and destruction had been before him. Who had done it? Animals would only have attacked the provisions, and there did not remain a single rag from the tent, a piece of wood or iron, and, more terrible still, not a fragment of coal! It was evident that the Esquimaux had learnt the value of these objects from their frequent relations with Europeans; since the departure of the Fox they had fetched everything away, and had not left a trace even of their passage. A slight coating of snow covered the ground. Hatteras was confounded. The doctor looked and shook his head. Shandon still said nothing, but an attentive observer would have noticed his lips curl with a cruel smile. At this moment the men sent by Lieutenant Wall came up; they soon saw the state of affairs. Shandon advanced towards the captain, and said:
“Mr. Hatteras, we need not despair; happily we are near the entrance to Barrow Strait, which will take us back to Baffin’s Sea!”
“Mr. Shandon,” answered Hatteras, “happily we are near the entrance to Wellington Strait, and that will take us north!”
“But how shall we get along, captain?”
“With the sails, sir. We have two months’ firing left, and that is enough for our wintering.”
“But allow me to tell you–-” added Shandon.
“I will allow you to follow me on board my ship, sir,” answered Hatteras, and turning his back on his second, he returned to the brig and shut himself up in his cabin. For the next two days the wind was contrary, and the captain did not show up on deck. The doctor profited by the forced sojourn to go over Beechey Island; he gathered some plants, which the temperature, relatively high, allowed to grow here and there on the rocks that the snow had left, some heaths, a few lichens, a sort of yellow ranunculus, a sort of plant something like sorrel, with wider leaves and more veins, and some pretty vigorous saxifrages. He found the fauna of this country much richer than the flora; he perceived long flocks of geese and cranes going northward, partridges, eider ducks of a bluish black, sandpipers, a sort of wading bird of the scolopax class, northern divers, plungers with very long bodies, numerous ptarmites, a sort of bird very good to eat, dovekies with black bodies, wings spotted with white, feet and beak red as coral; noisy bands of kittywakes and fat loons with white breasts, represented the ornithology of the island. The doctor was fortunate enough to kill a few grey hares, which had not yet put on their white winter fur, and a blue fox which Dick ran down skilfully. Some bears, evidently accustomed to dread the presence of men, would not allow themselves to be got at, and the seals were extremely timid, doubtless for the same reason as their enemies the bears. The class of articulated animals was represented by a single mosquito, which the doctor caught to his great delight, though not till it had stung him. As a conchologist he was less favoured, and only found a sort of mussel and some bivalve shells.
CHAPTER XXI
THE DEATH OF BELLOT
The temperature during the days of the 3rd and 4th of July kept up to 57 degrees; this was the highest thermometric point observed during the campaign. But on Thursday, the 5th, the wind turned to the southeast, and was accompanied by violent snowstorms. The thermometer fell during the preceding night to 23 degrees. Hatteras took no notice of the murmurs of the crew, and gave orders to get under way. For the last thirteen days, from Cape Dundas, the Forward had not been able to gain one more degree north, so the party represented by Clifton was no longer satisfied, but wished like Hatteras to get into Wellington Channel, and worked away with a will. The brig had some difficulty in getting under sail; but Hatteras having set his mizensail, his topsails, and his gallantsails during the night, advanced boldly in the midst of fields of ice which the current was drifting south. The crew were tired out with this winding navigation, which kept them constantly at work at the sails. Wellington Channel is not very wide; it is bounded by North Devon on the east and Cornwallis Island on the west; this island was long believed to be a peninsula. It was Sir John Franklin who first sailed round it in 1846, starting west, and coming back to the same point to the north of the channel. The exploration of Wellington Channel was made in 1851 by Captain Penny in the whalers Lady Franklin and Sophia; one of his lieutenants, Stewart, reached Cape Beecher in latitude 76 degrees 20 minutes, and discovered the open sea—that open sea which was Hatteras’s dream!
“What Stewart found I shall find,” said he to the doctor; “then I shall be able to set sail to the Pole.”
“But aren’t you afraid that your crew–-“
“My crew!” said Hatteras severely. Then in a low tone—“Poor fellows!” murmured he, to the great astonishment of the doctor. It was the first expression of feeling he had heard the captain deliver.
“No,” he repeated with energy, “they must follow me! They shall follow me!”
However, although the