So far they had experienced no hardships; they had suffered from nothing except the reflection of the sun's rays upon the snow, which could easily give them snow-blindness. At any other time they would have travelled by night to avoid this inconvenience, but then there was no night. The snow was fortunately melting away, and it was much less brilliant when it was about turning into water.

June 28th the temperature arose to 45 degrees; this was accompanied with heavy rain, which the travellers endured stoically, even with pleasure, for it hastened the disappearance of the snow. They had to put on their deer-skin moccasins, and change the runners of the sledge. Their journey was delayed, but still they were advancing without any serious obstacles. At times the doctor would pick up rounded or flat stones like pebbles worn smooth by the waves, and then he thought he was near the Polar Sea; but yet the plain stretched on out of sight. There was no trace of man, no hut, no cairn nor Esquimaux snow-house; they were evidently the first to set foot in this new land. The Greenlanders never had gone so far, and yet this country offered plenty of game for the support of that half-starved people. Sometimes bears appeared in the distance, but they showed no signs of attacking; afar off were herds of musk-oxen and reindeer. The doctor would have liked to catch some of the latter to harness to the sledge; but they were timid, and not to be caught alive.



The 29th, Bell shot a fox, and Altamont was lucky enough to bring down a medium-sized musk-ox, after giving his companions a high idea of his bravery and skill; he was indeed a remarkable hunter, and so much admired by the doctor. The ox was cut out, and gave plenty of excellent meat. These lucky supplies were always well received; the least greedy could not restrain their joy at the sight of the meat. The doctor laughed at himself when he caught himself admiring these huge joints.



"Let us not be afraid to eat it," he used to say; "a good dinner is a good thing in these expeditions."

"Especially," said Johnson, "when it depends on a better or worse shot."

"You are right, Johnson," replied the doctor; "one thinks less of one's food when one gets a regular supply from the kitchen."



The 30th, the country became unexpectedly rugged, as if it had been upheaved by some volcanic commotion; the cones and peaks increased indefinitely in number, and were very high. A southeast breeze began to blow with violence, and soon became a real hurricane. It rushed across the snow-covered rocks, among the ice-mountains, which, although on the firm land, took the form of hummocks and icebergs; their presence on these lofty plateaus could not be explained even by the doctor, who had an explanation for almost everything. Warm, damp weather succeeded the tempest; it was a genuine thaw; on all sides resounded the cracking of the ice amid the roar of the avalanches.



The travellers carefully avoided the base of these hills; they even took care not to talk aloud, for the sound of the voice could shake the air and cause accident. They were witnesses of frequent and terrible avalanches which they could not have foreseen. In fact, the main peculiarity of polar avalanches is their terrible swiftness; therein they differ from those of Switzerland and Norway, where they form a ball, of small size at first, and then, by adding to themselves the snow and rocks in its passage, it falls with increasing swiftness, destroys forests and villages, but taking an appreciable time in its course. Now, it is otherwise in the countries where arctic cold rages; the fall of the block of ice is unexpected and startling; its fall is almost instantaneous, and any one who saw it from beneath would be certainly crushed by it; the cannon-ball is not swifter, nor lightning quicker; it starts, falls, and crashes down in a single moment with the dreadful roar of thunder, and with dull echoes.

So the amazed spectators see wonderful changes in the appearance of the country; the mountain becomes a plain under the action of a sudden thaw; when the rain has filtered into the fissures of the great blocks and freezes in a single night, it breaks everything by its irresistible expansion, which is more powerful in forming ice than in forming vapor: the phenomenon takes place with terrible swiftness.

No catastrophe, fortunately, threatened the sledge and its drivers; the proper precautions were taken, and every danger avoided. Besides, this rugged, icy country was not of great extent, and three days later, July 3d, the travellers were on smoother ground. But their eyes were surprised by a new phenomenon, which has for a long time claimed the attention of the scientific men of the two worlds. It was this: the party followed a line of hills not more than fifty feet high, which appeared to run on several miles, and their eastern side was covered with red snow.

The surprise and even the sort of alarm which the sight of this crimson curtain gave them may be easily imagined. The doctor hastened, if not to reassure, at least to instruct, his companions; he was familiar with this red snow and the chemical analysis made of it by Wollaston, Candolle, Bauer. He told them this red snow was not found in the arctic regions alone, but in Switzerland in the middle of the Alps; De Saussure collected a large quantity on the Breven in 1760; and since then Captains Ross, Sabine, and others had brought some back from their arctic journeys.



Altamont asked the doctor about the nature of this extraordinary substance. He was told that its color came simply from the presence of organic corpuscles. For a long time it was a question whether these corpuscles were animal or vegetable; but it was soon ascertained that they belonged to the family of microscopic mushrooms, of the genus Uredo, which Bauer proposed naming Uredo vivalis.

Then the doctor, prying into the snow with his cane, showed his companions that the scarlet layer was only nine feet deep, and he bade them calculate how many of these mushrooms there might be on a space of many miles, when scientific men estimated forty-three thousand in a square centimetre.

This coloring probably ran back to a remote period, for the mushrooms were not decomposed by either evaporation or the melting of the snow, nor was their color altered.

The phenomenon, although explained, was no less strange. Red is a rare color in nature; the reflection of the sun's rays on this crimson surface produced strange effects; it gave the surrounding objects, men and animals, a brilliant appearance, as if they were lighted by an inward flame; and when the snow was melting, streams of blood seemed to be flowing beneath the travellers' feet.

The doctor, who had not been able to examine this substance when he saw it on crimson cliffs from Baffin's Bay, here examined it at his ease, and gathered several bottlefuls of it.

This red ground, the "Field of Blood," as he called it, took three hours' walk to pass over, and then the country resumed its habitual appearance.



CHAPTER XX. FOOTPRINTS ON THE SNOW.

July 4th a dense fog prevailed. They were only able with the greatest difficulty to keep a straight path; they had to consult the compass every moment. Fortunately there was no accident in the darkness, except that Bell lost his snow-shoes, which were broken against a projecting rock.

"Well, really," said Johnson, "I thought, after seeing the Mersey and the Thames, that I knew all about fogs, but I see I was mistaken."

"We ought," answered Bell, "to light torches as is done at London and Liverpool."



"Why not?" asked the doctor; "that's a good idea; it wouldn't light up the road much, but we could see the guide, and follow him more easily."

"But what shall we do for torches?"

"By lighting tow dipped in alcohol, and fastening to the end of walking-sticks."

"Good!" said Johnson; "and we shall soon have it ready."

A quarter of an hour later the little band was walking along with torches faintly lighting up the general gloom.

But if they went straighter, they did not go quicker, and the fog lasted till July 6th; the earth being cold then, a blast of north-wind carried away all the mist as if it had been rags. Soon the doctor took an observation, and ascertained that meanwhile they had not made eight miles a day.



The 6th, they made an effort to make up for lost time, and they set out early. Altamont and Bell were ahead, choosing the way and looking out for game. Duke was with them. The weather, with its surprising fickleness, had become very clear and dry; and although the guides were two miles from the sledge, the doctor did not miss one of their movements. He was consequently very much startled to see them stop suddenly, and remain in a position of surprise; they seemed to be gazing into the distance, as if scanning the horizon. Then they bent down to the ground and seemed to be examining it closely, and they arose in evident amazement. Bell seemed to wish to push on, but Altamont held him back.

"What can they be doing?" asked the doctor of Johnson.

"I know no more than you, Doctor; I don't understand their gestures."

"They have found the track of some animals," answered Hatteras.

"That's not it," said the doctor.

"Why not?"

"Because Duke would bark."

"Still, they've seen marks of some sort."

"Let us go on," said Hatteras; "we shall soon know."

Johnson urged on the dogs, who quickened their pace.

In twenty minutes the five were together, and Hatteras, the doctor, and Johnson were as much surprised as Bell and Altamont.

There were in the snow indubitable traces of men, as fresh as if they had just been made.



"They are Esquimaux," said Hatteras.

"Yes," said the doctor, "there is no doubt of that!"

"You think so?" said Altamont.

"Without any doubt."

"Well, and this mark?" continued Altamont, pointing to another print, which was often repeated.

"That one?"

"Do you think it was made by an Esquimau?"

The doctor examined it carefully, and was stupefied. The print of a European shoe, with nails, sole, and heel, was clearly stamped in the snow. There could be no further doubt; a man, a stranger, had been there.

"Europeans here!" cried Hatteras.

"Evidently," said Johnson.

"And still," said the doctor, "it is so unlikely, that we ought to look twice before being sure."

Thereupon he looked twice, three times, at the print, and he was obliged to acknowledge its extraordinary origin.

De Foe's hero was not more amazed when he saw the footprint on the sand of his island; but if he was afraid, Hatteras was simply angry. A European so near the Pole!

They pushed on to examine the footprints; for a quarter of a mile they were continually repeated, mingled with marks of moccasins; then they turned to the west. When they had reached this point they consulted as to whether they should follow them any farther.

"No," said Hatteras. "Let us go on—"

He was interrupted by an exclamation of the doctor, who had just picked up on the snow an object even more convincing, and of the origin of which there could be no doubt. It was the object-glass of a pocket telescope.

"Now," he said, "we can't doubt that there is a stranger here—"

"Forward!" cried Hatteras.

He uttered this word so sharply that each one obeyed, and the sledge resumed its monotonous progress.

They all scanned the horizon attentively, except Hatteras, who was filled with wrath and did not care to see anything. Still, since they ran the risk of coming across a band of travellers, they had to take precautions; it was very disappointing to see any one ahead of them on the route. The doctor, although not as angry as Hatteras, was somewhat vexed, in spite of his usual philosophy. Altamont seemed equally annoyed; Johnson and Bell muttered threatening words between their teeth.

"Come," said the doctor, "let us take heart against our bad fortune."

"We must confess," said Johnson, without being heard by Altamont, "that if we find the place taken, it would disgust us with journeying to the Pole."

"And yet," answered Bell, "there is no possibility of doubting—"

"No," retorted the doctor; "I turn it all over in vain, and say it is improbable, impossible; I have to give it up. This shoe was not pressed into the snow without being at the end of a leg, and without the leg being attached to a human body. I could forgive Esquimaux, but a European!"

"The fact is," answered Johnson, "that if we are going to find all the rooms taken in the hotel of the end of the world, it would be annoying."

"Very annoying," said Altamont.

"Well, we shall see," said the doctor.

And they pushed on. The day ended without any new fact to indicate the presence of strangers in this part of New America, and they at last encamped for the evening.

A rather strong wind from the south had sprung up, and obliged them to seek a secure shelter for their tent in the bottom of a ravine. The sky was threatening; long clouds passed rapidly through the air; they passed near the ground, and so quickly that the eye could hardly follow them. At times some of the mist touched the ground, and the tent resisted with difficulty the violence of the hurricane.



"It's going to be a nasty night," said Johnson, after supper.

"It won't be cold, but stormy," answered the doctor; "let us take precautions, and make the tent firm with large stones."

"You are right, Doctor; if the wind should carry away the canvas, Heaven alone knows where we should find it again."

Hence they took every precaution against such a danger, and the wearied travellers lay down to sleep. But they found it impossible. The tempest was loose, and hastened northward with incomparable violence; the clouds were whirling about like steam which has just escaped from a boiler; the last avalanches, under the force of the hurricane, fell into the ravines, and their dull echoes were distinctly heard; the air seemed to be struggling with the water, and fire alone was absent from this contest of the elements.

Amid the general tumult their ears distinguished separate sounds, not the crash of heavy falling bodies, but the distinct cracking of bodies breaking; a clear snap was frequently heard, like breaking steel, amid the roar of the tempest. These last sounds were evidently avalanches torn off by the gusts, but the doctor could not explain the others. In the few moments of anxious silence, when the hurricane seemed to be taking breath in order to blow with greater violence, the travellers exchanged their suppositions.

"There is a sound of crashing," said the doctor, "as if icebergs and ice-fields were being blown against one another."

"Yes," answered Altamont; "one would say the whole crust of the globe was falling in. Say, did you hear that?"

"If we were near the sea," the doctor went on, "I should think it was ice breaking."

"In fact," said Johnson, "there is no other explanation possible."

"Can we have reached the coast?" asked Hatteras.

"It's not impossible," answered the doctor. "Hold on," he said, after a very distinct sound; "shouldn't you say that was the crashing of ice? We may be very near the ocean."

"If it is," continued Hatteras, "I should not be afraid to go across the ice-fields."

"O," said the doctor, "they must be broken by such a tempest! We shall see to-morrow. However that may be, if any men have to travel in such a night as this, I pity them."

The hurricane raged ten hours without cessation, and no one of those in the tent had a moment's sleep; the night passed in profound uneasiness. In fact, under such circumstances, every new incident, a tempest, an avalanche, might bring serious consequences. The doctor would gladly have gone out to reconnoitre, but how could he with such a wind raging?

Fortunately the hurricane grew less violent early the next day; they could leave the tent which had resisted so sturdily. The doctor, Hatteras, and Johnson went to a hill about three hundred feet high, which they ascended without difficulty. Their eyes beheld an entirely altered country, composed of bare rocks, sharp ridges entirely clear of ice. It was summer succeeding winter, which had been driven away by the tempest; the snow had been blown away by the wind before it could melt, and the barren soil reappeared.



But Hatteras's glances were all turned towards the north, where the horizon appeared to be hidden by dark mist.

"That may be the effect of the ocean," said the doctor.

"You are right," said Hatteras; "the sea must be there."

"That's what we call the blink of the water," said Johnson.

"Exactly," said the doctor.

"Well, let us start," said Hatteras, "and push on to this new ocean."

"That rejoices my heart," said Clawbonny to the captain.

"Certainly," was the enthusiastic answer. "Soon we shall have reached the Pole! and doesn't the prospect delight you, too, Doctor?"

"It does. I am always happy, and especially about the happiness of others!"

The three Englishmen returned to the ravine; the sledge was made ready, and they left the camp and resumed their march. Each one dreaded finding new tracks, but all the rest of the way they saw no trace of any human being. Three hours later they reached the coast.

"The sea! the sea!" they all shouted.

"And the open sea!" cried the captain.



It was ten o'clock in the morning.

In fact, the hurricane had cleared up the polar basin; the shattered ice was floating away in every direction; the largest pieces, forming icebergs, had just weighed anchor and were sailing on the open sea. The wind had made a harsh attack upon the field. Fragments of ice covered the surrounding rocks. The little which was left of the ice-field seemed very soft; on the rocks were large pieces of sea-weed. The ocean stretched beyond the line of vision, with no island or new land peering above the horizon.

In the east and west were two capes gently sloping to the water; at their end the sea was breaking, and the wind was carrying a slight foam. The land of New America thus died away in the Polar Ocean, quietly and gently. It rounded into an open bay, with roadstead enclosed by the two promontories. In the middle a rock made a little natural harbor, sheltered against three points of the compass; it ran back into the land in the broad bed of a stream, through which ran down the melted snows of winter, now forming a perfect torrent.

Hatteras, after noticing the outline of the coast, resolved to make the preparations for departure that very day, to launch the boat, to put the unloaded sledge on board for future excursions. That took all day; then the tent was raised, and after a comfortable meal work began. Meanwhile the doctor took out his instruments to take an observation and determine the position of a part of the bay. Hatteras hurried on the work; he was anxious to start; he wanted to leave the land, and to be in advance in case any others should reach the sea.

At five o'clock in the evening Johnson and Bell had nothing to do but to fold their arms. The launch was rocking gently in her little harbor, with her mast set, her jib lowered, and her foresail in the brails; the provisions and most of the things on the sledge had been put on board; only the tent and a little of the camping material remained to be put on board the next day. The doctor found all these preparations complete on his return. When he saw the launch quietly sheltered from the wind, it occurred to him to give a name to the little harbor, and he proposed that of Altamont. This proposition was unanimously agreed to. So it was named Altamont Harbor.



According to the doctor's calculations, it lay in latitude 87 degrees 5 minutes, and longitude 118 degrees 35 minutes E. of Greenwich; that is to say, less than three degrees from the Pole. The band had gone more than two hundred miles from Victoria Bay to Altamont Harbor.



CHAPTER XXI. THE OPEN SEA.

The next morning Johnson and Bell set about carrying on board the camping material. At eight o'clock all the preparations for departure were complete. At the moment of starting the doctor's thoughts returned to the footprints they had seen. Were these men trying to gain the North? Had they any means of crossing the Polar Sea! Should they meet them again? For three days they had come across no trace of the travellers, and certainly, whoever they were, they could not have reached Altamont Harbor. That was a place which they were the first to set foot in. But the doctor, who was harassed by his thoughts, wanted to take a last view of the country, and he ascended a little hill about a hundred feet high, whence he had a distant view to the south.

When he had reached the top, he put his glass to his eyes. Great was his surprise when he found he could not see anything, either at a distance on the plains, or within a few feet of him. This seemed very odd; he made another examination, and at last he looked at the glass,—the object-glass was missing.



"The object-glass!" he cried.

The sudden revelation may be imagined; he uttered a cry so loud as to be heard by his companions, and they were much astonished at seeing him running down the hill.

"Well, what's the matter now?" asked Johnson.

The doctor was out of breath, and unable to speak. At length he managed to bring out,—

"The footprints!—the expedition!—"

"Well, what?" said Hatteras; "are they here?"

"No, no!" resumed the doctor,—"the object-glass, mine!"

And he showed his own glass.

"O, ho!" cried the American, "so you lost—"

"Yes!"

"But then the footprints—"

"Our own!" cried the doctor. "We lost our way in the fog! We went around in a circle, and came across our own footprints!"

"But the print of the shoes?" asked Hatteras.

"Bell's, you know, who walked all day in the snow after breaking his snow-shoes."

"That's true," said Bell.

Their mistake was so clear, that they all, except Hatteras, burst out laughing, and he was none the less pleased at the discovery.

"We were stupid enough," said the doctor, when they had stopped laughing. What good guesses we made! Strangers up here! Really, we ought to think before speaking. Well, since we are easy on this point, we can't do better than start."

"Forward!" said Hatteras.

A quarter of an hour later each one had taken his place on board of the launch, which sailed out of Altamont Harbor under mainsail and jib. This voyage began Wednesday, July 10th; they were then very near the Pole, exactly one hundred and seventy-five miles from it. However small the land might be at that point of the globe, the voyage would certainly be a short one. The wind was light, but fair. The thermometer stood at 50 degrees; it was really warm.

The launch had not been injured by the journey on the sledge; it was in perfect order, and sailed easily. Johnson was at the helm; the doctor, Bell, and Altamont were lying as best they might among the load, partly on deck, partly below.

Hatteras stood forward, with his eyes turned to the mysterious point, which attracted him with an irresistible power, as the magnetic pole attracts the needle. If there should be any land, he wanted to be the first to see it. This honor really belonged to him. He noticed, besides, that the surface of the Polar Sea was covered with short waves, like those of land locked seas. This he considered a proof of the nearness of the opposite shore, and the doctor shared his opinion.

Hatteras's desire to find land at the North Pole is perfectly comprehensible. His disappointment would have been great if the uncertain sea covered the place where he wanted to find a piece of land, no matter how small! In fact, how could he give a special name to an uncertain portion of the sea? How plant the flag of his country among the waves? How take possession, in the name of her Gracious Majesty, of the liquid element?

So Hatteras, compass in hand, gazed steadily at the north. There was nothing that he could see between him and the horizon, where the line of the blue water met the blue sky. A few floating icebergs seemed to be leaving the way free for these bold sailors. The appearance of this region was singularly strange. Was this impression simply the result of the nervous excitement of the travellers? It is hard to say. Still, the doctor in his journal has described the singular appearance of the ocean; he spoke of it as Penny did, according to whom these countries present an appearance "offering the most striking contrast of a sea filled with millions of living creatures."

The sea, with its various colors, appeared strangely transparent, and endowed with a wonderful dispersive quality, as if it had been made with carburet of sulphur. This clearness let them see down into immeasurable depths; it seemed as if the sea were lit up like a large aquarium; probably some electric phenomenon at the bottom of the sea lit it up. So the launch seemed hung in a bottomless abyss.



On the surface of the water the birds were flying in large flocks, like thick clouds big with a storm. Aquatic birds of all sorts were there, from the albatross which is common to the south, to the penguin of the arctic seas, but of enormous size. Their cries were deafening. In considering them the doctor found his knowledge of natural history too scanty; many of the names escaped him, and he found himself bowing his head when their wings beat the air.



Some of these large birds measured twenty feet from tip to tip; they covered the whole launch with their expanded wings; and there were legions of these birds, of which the names had never appeared in the London "Index Ornithologus." The doctor was dejected and stupefied at finding his science so faulty. Then, when his glance fell from the wonders of the air to the calm surface of the ocean, he saw no less astonishing productions of the animal kingdom, among others, medusae thirty feet broad; they served as food for the other fish, and they floated like islands amid the sea-weed. What a difference from the microscopic medusae observed in the seas of Greenland by Scoresby, and of which that explorer estimated the number at twenty-three trillions eight hundred and ninety-eight billions of millions in a space of two square miles!

Then the eye glancing down into the transparent water, the sight was equally strange, so full was it of fishes; sometimes the animals were swimming about below, and the eye saw them gradually disappearing, and fading away like spectres; then they would leave the lower layers and rise to the surface. The monsters seemed in no way alarmed at the presence of the launch; they even passed near it, rubbing their fins against it; this, which would have alarmed whalers, did not disturb these men, and yet the sea-monsters were very large.



Young sea-calves played about them; the sword-fish, with its long, narrow, conical sword, with which it cleaves the ice, was chasing the more timid cetacea; numberless spouting whales were clearly to be heard. The sword-caper, with its delicate tail and large caudal fins, swam with incomprehensible quickness, feeding on smaller animals, such as the cod, as swift as itself; while the white whale, which is more inactive, swallowed peacefully the tranquil, lazy mollusks.

Farther down were Greenland anamaks, long and dark; huge sperm-whales, swimming in the midst of ambergris, in which took place thomeric battles that reddened the ocean for many miles around; the great Labrador tegusik. Sharp-backed dolphins, the whole family of seals and walruses, sea-dogs, horses and bears, lions and elephants, seemed to be feeding on the rich pastures; and the doctor admired the numberless animals, as he would have done the crustacea in the crystal basins of the zoological garden.

What beauty, variety, and power in nature! How strange and wonderful everything seemed in the polar regions!

The air acquired an unnatural purity; one would have said it was full of oxygen; the explorers breathed with delight this air, which filled them with fresher life; without taking account of the result, they were, so to speak, exposed to a real consuming fire, of which one can give no idea, not even a feeble one. Their emotions, their breathing and digestion, were endowed with superhuman energy; their ideas became more excited; they lived a whole day in an hour.

Through all these wonders the launch pushed on before a moderate breeze, occasionally feeling the air moved by the albatrosses' wings.

Towards evening, the coast of New America disappeared beneath the horizon. In the temperate zones, as well as at the equator, night falls; but here the sun simply described a circle parallel to the line of the horizon. The launch, bathed in its oblique rays, could not lose sight of it.

The animate beings of these regions seemed to know the approach of evening as truly as if the sun had set; birds, fish, cetacea, all disappeared. Whither? To the depths of the ocean? Who could say? But soon total silence succeeded to their cries, and the sound of their passage through the water; the sea grew calmer and calmer, and night retained its gentle peace even beneath the glowing sun.

Since leaving Altamont Harbor the launch had made one degree to the north; the next day nothing appeared on the horizon, neither projecting peaks nor those vague signs by which sailors detect their nearness to land.

The wind was good, but not strong, the sea not high; the birds and fish came as thick as the day before; the doctor, leaning over the gunwale, could see the cetacea rising slowly to the surface; a few icebergs and scattered pieces of ice alone broke the monotony of the ocean.

But the ice grew rarer, and was not enough to interfere with the boat. It is to be remembered that the launch was then ten degrees above the pole of cold; and as to the parallels of temperature, they might as well have been ten degrees to the other side. There was nothing surprising in the sea being open at this epoch, as it must have been at Disco Island in Baffin's Bay. So a sailing vessel would have plenty of sailing room in the summer months.

This observation had a great practical importance; in fact, if whalers can ever get to the polar basin, either by the seas of North America or those of the north of Asia, they are sure of getting full cargoes, for this part of the ocean seems to be the universal fishing-pond, the general reservoir of whales, seals, and all marine animals. At noon the line of the horizon was still unbroken; the doctor began to doubt of the existence of a continent in so high latitudes.

Still, as he reflected, he was compelled to believe in the existence of an arctic continent; in fact, at the creation of the world, after the cooling of the terrestrial crust, the waters formed by the condensation of the atmospheric vapor were compelled to obey the centrifugal force, to fly to the equator and leave the motionless extremities of the globe. Hence the necessary emersion of the countries near the Pole. The doctor considered this reasoning very just. And so it seemed to Hatteras.



Hence the captain still tried to pierce the mists of the horizon. His glass never left his eyes. In the color of the water, the shape of the waves, the direction of the wind, he tried to find traces of neighboring land. His head was bent forward, and even one who did not know his thoughts would have admired, so full was his attitude of energetic desire and anxious interrogation.



CHAPTER XXII. THE APPROACH TO THE POLE.

The time flew by in this uncertainty. Nothing appeared on the sharply defined circle of the sea; nothing was to be seen save sky and sea,—not one of those floating land-plants which rejoiced the heart of Christopher Columbus as he was about to discover America. Hatteras was still gazing. At length, at about six o'clock in the evening, a shapeless vapor appeared at a little height above the level of the sea; it looked like a puff of smoke; the sky was perfectly cold, so this vapor was no cloud; it would keep appearing and disappearing, as if it were in commotion. Hatteras was the first to detect this phenomenon; he examined it with his glass for a whole hour.

Suddenly, some sure sign apparently occurred to him, for he stretched out his arms to the horizon and cried in a loud voice,—

"Land, ho!"

At these words each one sprang to his feet as if moved by electricity. A sort of smoke was clearly rising above the sea.



"I see it," cried the doctor.

"Yes! certainly!—yes!" said Johnson.

"It's a cloud," said Altamont.

"It's land!" answered Hatteras, as if perfectly convinced.

But, as often happens with objects that are indistinct in the distance, the point they had been looking at seemed to have disappeared. At length they found it again, and the doctor even fancied that he could see a swift light twenty or twenty-five miles to the north.

"It's a volcano!" he cried.



"A volcano?" said Altamont.

"Without doubt."

"At this high latitude?"

"And why not?" continued the doctor; "isn't Iceland a volcanic land, so to speak, made of volcanoes?"

"Yes, Iceland," said the American, "but so near the Pole!"

"Well, didn't Commodore James Ross find in the Southern Continent two active volcanoes, Erebus and Terror by name, in longitude 170 degrees and latitude 78 degrees? Why then shouldn't there be volcanoes at the North Pole?"

"It may be so, after all," answered Altamont.

"Ah," cried the doctor, "I see it clearly! It is a volcano."

"Well," said Hatteras, "let us sail straight towards it."

"The wind is changing," said Johnson.

"Haul on the fore-sheet, and bring her nearer the wind."

But this manoeuvre only turned the launch away from the point they had been gazing at, and even with their closest examination they could not find it again. Still, they could not doubt that they were nearing land. They had seen, if they had not reached, the object of their voyage, and within twenty-four hours they would set foot on this unknown shore. Providence, after letting them get so near, would not drive them back at the last moment.

Still, no one manifested the joy which might have been expected under the circumstances; each one wondered in silence what this polar land might be. The animals seemed to shun it; at evening the birds, instead of seeking refuge there, flew with all speed to the south. Could not a single gull or ptarmigan find a resting-place there? Even the fish, the large cetacea, avoided that coast. Whence came this repugnance, which was shared by all the animals they saw, unless from terror?

The sailors experienced the same feeling; they gave way to the feelings inspired by the situation, and gradually each one felt his eyelids grow heavy. It was Hatteras's watch. He took the tiller; the doctor, Altamont, Johnson, and Bell fell asleep, stretched on the benches, and soon were dreaming soundly. Hatteras struggled against his sleepiness; he wished to lose not a moment; but the gentle motion of the launch rocked him, in spite of himself, into a gentle sleep.

The boat made hardly any headway; the wind did not keep her sails full. Far off in the west a few icebergs were reflecting the sun's rays, and glowing brightly in the midst of the ocean.

Hatteras began to dream. He recalled his whole life, with the incalculable speed of dreams; he went through the winter again, the scenes at Victoria Bay, Fort Providence, Doctor's House, the finding the American beneath the snow. Here remoter incidents came up before him; he dreamed of the burning of the Forward, of his treacherous companions who had abandoned him. What had become of them? He thought of Shandon, Wall, and the brutal Pen. Where were they now? Had they succeeded in reaching Baffin's Bay across the ice? Then he went further back, to his departure from England, to his previous voyages, his failures and misfortunes. Then he forgot his present situation, his success so near at hand, his hopes half realized. His dreams carried him from joy to agony. So it went on for two hours; then his thoughts changed; he began to think of the Pole, and he saw himself at last setting foot on this English continent, and unfolding the flag of the United Kingdom. While he was dozing in this way a huge, dark cloud was climbing across the sky, throwing a deep shadow over the sea.



It is difficult to imagine the great speed with which hurricanes arise in the arctic seas. The vapors which rise under the equator are condensed above the great glaciers of the North, and large masses of air are needed to take their place. This can explain the severity of arctic storms.

At the first shock of the wind the captain and his friends awoke from their sleep, ready to manage the launch. The waves were high and steep. The launch tossed helplessly about, now plunged into deep abysses, now oscillated on the pointed crest of a wave, inclining often at an angle of more than forty-five degrees. Hatteras took firm hold of the tiller, which was noisily sliding from one side to the other. Every now and then some strong wave would strike it and nearly throw him over. Johnson and Bell were busily occupied in bailing out the water which the launch would occasionally ship.



"This is a storm we hardly expected," said Altamont, holding fast to his bench.

"We ought to expect anything here," answered the doctor.

These remarks were made amid the roar of the tempest and the hissing of the waves, which the violence of the wind reduced to a fine spray. It was nearly impossible for one to hear his neighbor. It was hard to keep the boat's head to the north; the clouds hid everything a few fathoms from the boat, and they had no mark to sail by. This sudden tempest, just as they were about attaining their object, seemed full of warning; to their excited minds it came like an order to go no farther. Did Nature forbid approach to the Pole? Was this point of the globe surrounded by hurricanes and tempests which rendered access impossible? But any one who had caught sight of those men could have seen that they did not flinch before wind or wave, and that they would push on to the end. So they struggled on all day, braving death at every instant, and making no progress northward, but also losing no ground; they were wet through by the rain and waves; above the din of the storm they could hear the hoarse cries of the birds.

But at six o'clock in the evening, while the waves were rising, there came a sudden calm. The wind stopped as if by a miracle. The sea was smooth, as if it had not felt a puff of wind for twelve hours. The hurricane seemed to have respected this part of the Polar Ocean. What was the reason? It was an extraordinary phenomenon, which Captain Sabine had witnessed in his voyages in Greenland seas. The fog, without lifting, was very bright. The launch drifted along in a zone of electric light, an immense St. Elmo fire, brilliant but without heat. The mast, sail, and rigging stood out black against the phosphorescent air; the men seemed to have plunged into a bath of transparent rays, and their faces were all lit up. The sudden calm of this portion of the ocean came, without doubt, from the ascending motion of the columns of air, while the tempest, which was a cyclone, turned rapidly about this peaceful centre. But this atmosphere on fire suggested a thought to Hatteras.



"The volcano!" he cried.

"Is it possible?" asked Bell.

"No, no!" answered the doctor; "we should be smothered if the flames were to reach us."

"Perhaps it is its reflection in the fog," said Altamont.

"No. We should have to admit that we were near land, and in that case we should hear the eruption."

"But then?" asked the captain.

"It is a phenomenon," said the doctor, "which has been seldom observed hitherto. If we go on we cannot help leaving this luminous sphere and re-entering storm and darkness."

"Whatever it is, push on!" said Hatteras.

"Forward!" cried his companions, who did not wish to delay even for breathing-time in this quiet spot. The bright sail hung down the glistening mast; the oars dipped into the glowing waves, and appeared to drip with sparks. Hatteras, compass in hand, turned the boat's head to the north; gradually the mist lost its brightness and transparency; the wind could be heard roaring a short distance off; and soon the launch, lying over before a strong gust, re-entered the zone of storms. Fortunately, the hurricane had shifted a point towards the south, and the launch was able to run before the wind, straight for the Pole, running the risk of foundering, but sailing very fast; a rock, reef, or piece of ice might at any moment rise before them, and crush them to atoms. Still, no one of these men raised a single objection, nor suggested prudence. They were seized with the madness of danger. Thirst for the unknown took possession of them. They were going along, not blinded, but blindly, finding their speed only too slow for their impatience. Hatteras held the tiller firm amid the waves lashed into foam by the tempest. Still the proximity of land became evident. Strange signs filled the air. Suddenly the mist parted like a curtain torn by the wind, and for a moment, brief as a flash of lightning, a great burst of flame could be seen rising towards the sky.

"The volcano! the volcano!" was the cry which escaped from the lips of all; but the strange vision disappeared at once; the wind shifted to the southeast, took the launch on her quarter, and drove her from this unapproachable land.

"Malediction!" said Hatteras, shifting her sail; "we were not three miles from land!"

Hatteras could not resist the force of the tempest; but without yielding to it, he brought the boat about in the wind, which was blowing with fearful violence. Every now and then the launch leaned to one side, so that almost her whole keel was exposed; still she obeyed her rudder, and rose like a stumbling horse which his rider brings up by spur and reins. Hatteras, with his hair flying and his hand on the tiller, seemed to be part of the boat, like horse and man at the time of the centaurs. Suddenly a terrible sight presented itself to their eyes. Within less than ten fathoms a floe was balancing on the waves; it fell and rose like the launch, threatening in its fall to crush it to atoms. But to this danger of being plunged into the abyss was added another no less terrible; for this drifting floe was covered with white bears, crowded together and wild with terror.



"Bears! bears!" cried Bell, in terror.

And each one gazed with terror. The floe pitched fearfully, sometimes at such an angle that the bears were all rolled together. Then their roars were almost as loud as the tempest; a formidable din arose from the floating menagerie.

If the floe had upset, the bears would have swum to the boat and clambered aboard.

For a quarter of an hour, which was as long as a century, the launch and floe drifted along in consort, twenty fathoms from one another at one moment and nearly running together the next, and at times they were so near to one another, the bears need only have dropped to have got on board. The Greenland dogs trembled from terror; Duke remained motionless. Hatteras and his companions were silent; it did not occur to them to put the helm down and sail away, and they went straight on. A vague feeling, of astonishment rather than terror, took possession of them; they admired this spectacle which completed the struggle of the elements. Finally the floe drifted away, borne by the wind, which the launch was able to withstand, as she lay with her head to the wind, and it disappeared in the mist, its presence being known merely by the distant roaring of the bears.

At that moment the fury of the tempest redoubled; there was an endless unchaining of atmospheric waves; the boat, borne by the waves, was tossed about giddily; her sail flew away like a huge white bird; a whirlpool, a new Maelstrom, formed among the waves; the boat was carried so fast that it seemed to the men as if the rapidly revolving water were motionless. They were gradually sinking down. There was an irresistible power dragging them down and ingulfing them alive. All five arose. They looked at one another with terror. They grew dizzy. They felt an undefinable dread of the abyss! But suddenly the launch arose perpendicularly. Her prow was higher than the whirling waves; the speed with which she was moving hurled her beyond the centre of attraction, and escaping by the tangent of this circumference which was making more than a thousand turns a second, she was hurled away with the rapidity of a cannon-ball.



Altamont, the doctor, Johnson, and Bell were thrown down among the seats. When they rose, Hatteras had disappeared. It was two o'clock in the morning.



CHAPTER XXIII. THE ENGLISH FLAG.

One cry, bursting from the lips of the other four, succeeded their first stupefaction.

"Hatteras!" cried the doctor.

"Gone!" said Johnson and Bell.

"Lost!"

They looked about, but nothing was to be seen on the storm-tossed sea. Duke barked despairingly; he tried to spring into the water, but Bell managed to hold him.

"Take a place at the helm, Altamont," said the doctor; "let us try everything to save the captain."

Johnson and Bell took their seats. Altamont took the helm, and the launch came into wind again. Johnson and Bell began to row vigorously; for an hour they remained at the scene of the accident. They sought earnestly, but in vain. The unfortunate Hatteras was lost in the storm! Lost, so near the Pole, so near the end, of which he had had but a glimpse!

The doctor called aloud, and fired the guns; Duke added his howling, but there was no answer. Then profound grief seized Clawbonny; his head sank into his hands, and his companions saw that he was weeping. In fact, at this distance from land, with a scrap of wood to hold him up, Hatteras could not reach the shore alive; and if anything did come ashore, it would be his disfigured corpse. After hunting for an hour, they decided to turn to the north, and struggle against the last furies of the tempest.

At five o'clock in the morning of July 11th the wind went down; the sea grew quieter; the sky regained its polar clearness, and within three miles of them appeared the land. This continent was but an island, or rather a volcano, peering up like a lighthouse at the North Pole. The mountain, in full eruption, was hurling forth a mass of burning stones and melting rocks. It seemed to be rising and falling beneath the successive blasts as if it were breathing; the things which were cast out reached a great height in the air; amid the jets of flame, torrents of lava were flowing down the side of the mountain; here creeping between steaming rocks, there falling in cascades amid the purple vapor: and lower down a thousand streams united in one large river, which ran boiling into the sea.



The volcano seemed to have but a single crater, whence arose a column of fire, lighted by transverse rays; one would have said that part of the magnificence of the phenomenon was due to electricity. Above the flames floated an immense cloud of smoke, red below, black above. It rose with great majesty, and unrolled into huge layers.

The sky at a considerable height had an ashy hue; the darkness, which was so marked during the tempest, and of which the doctor could give no satisfactory explanation, evidently came from the ashes, which completely hid the sun. He remembered a similar fact that took place in 1812, at the Barbadoes, which at noon was plunged into total darkness by the mass of cinders thrown from the crater of Isle St. Vincent.

This enormous volcano, jutting up in mid-ocean, was about six thousand feet high, very nearly the altitude of Hecla. A line from the summit to the base would form with the horizon an angle of about eleven degrees. It seemed to rise from the bosom of the waves as the launch approached it. There was no trace of vegetation. There was no shore; it ran down steep to the sea.

"Shall we be able to land?" said the doctor.

"The wind is carrying us there," answered Altamont.

"But I can't see any beach on which we could set foot."

"So it seems from here," answered Johnson; "but we shall find some place for our boat; that is all we need."

"Let us go on, then!" answered Clawbonny, sadly.

The doctor had no eyes for the strange continent which was rising before him. The land of the Pole was there, but not the man who had discovered it. Five hundred feet from the rocks the sea was boiling under the action of subterraneous fires. The island was from eight to ten miles in circumference, no more; and, according to their calculation, it was very near the Pole, if indeed the axis of the world did not pass exactly through it. As they drew near they noticed a little fiord large enough to shelter their boat; they sailed towards it, filled with the fear of finding the captain's body cast ashore by the tempest.



Still, it seemed unlikely that any corpse should rest there; there was no beach, and the sea beat against the steep rocks; thick ashes, on which no human foot had ever stepped, covered the ground beyond the reach of the waves. At last the launch slipped between the breakers, and there she was perfectly sheltered against the surf. Then Duke's lamentable howling redoubled; the poor animal called for the captain with his sad wails among the rocks. His barking was vain; and the doctor caressed him, without being able to calm him, when the faithful dog, as if he wanted to replace his master, made a prodigious leap, and was the first to get ashore amid the dust and ashes which flew about him.

"Duke! Duke!" said the doctor.

Duke did not hear him, but disappeared. The men then went ashore, and made the launch fast. Altamont was preparing to climb up a large pile of rocks, when Duke's distant barking was heard; it expressed pain, not wrath.

"Listen!" said the doctor.

"Has he got on the track of some animal?" asked the boatswain.

"No," answered the doctor, quivering with emotion; "he's mourning, crying! Hatteras's body is there!"

At these words the four men started after Duke, in the midst of blinding cinders; they reached the end of the fiord, a little place ten feet broad, where the waves were gently breaking. There Duke was barking near a body wrapped up in the English flag.

"Hatteras, Hatteras!" cried the doctor, rushing to the body of his friend.

But at once he uttered an explanation which it is impossible to render. This bleeding and apparently lifeless body had just given signs of life.

"Alive, alive!" he cried.

"Yes," said a feeble voice, "living on the land of the Pole, where the tempest cast me up! Living on Queen Island!"

"Hurrah for England!" cried the five together.

"And for America!" added the doctor, holding out one hand to Hatteras and the other to Altamont. Duke, too, hurrahed in his own way, which was as good as any other.

At first these kind-hearted men were wholly given up to the pleasure of seeing their captain again; they felt the tears welling up into their eyes. The doctor examined Hatteras's condition. He was not seriously injured. The wind had carried him to the shore, where it was hard to land; the bold sailor, often beaten back, at last succeeded in clambering upon a rock above the reach of the waves. Then he lost consciousness, after wrapping himself up in his flag, and he only came to himself under Duke's caresses and barking. After receiving a few attentions, Hatteras was able to rise, and, leaning on the doctor's arm, to go to the launch.

"The Pole, the North Pole!" he repeated as he walked along.

"You are happy!" the doctor said to him.

"Yes, happy! And you, my friend, don't you feel happy at being here? This land is the land of the Pole! This sea we have crossed is the sea of the Pole! This air we breathe is the air of the Pole! O, the North Pole, the North Pole!"

As he spoke, Hatteras was the victim of a violent excitement, a sort of fever, and the doctor in vain tried to calm him. His eyes were strangely bright, and his thoughts were boiling within him. Clawbonny ascribed this condition to the terrible perils he had gone through. Hatteras evidently needed rest, and they set about seeking a place to camp. Altamont soon found a grotto in the rocks, which had fallen in such a way as to form a cavern. Johnson and Bell brought provisions there, and let loose the dogs. Towards eleven o'clock everything was prepared for a meal; the canvas of the tent served as a cloth; the breakfast, consisting of pemmican, salt meat, tea and coffee, was set and soon devoured. But first, Hatteras demanded that an observation should be made; he wanted to know its position exactly. The doctor and Altamont then took their instruments, and after taking an observation they found the precise position of the grotto to be latitude 89 degrees 59 minutes 15 seconds. The longitude at this height was of no importance, for all the meridians run together within a few hundred feet higher. So in reality the island was situated at the North Pole, and the ninetieth degree of latitude was only forty-five seconds from there, exactly three quarters of a mile, that is to say, towards the top of the volcano. When Hatteras knew this result, he asked that it should be stated in two documents, one to be placed in a cairn on the shore. So at once the doctor took his pen and wrote the following document, one copy of which is now in the archives of the Royal Geographical Society in London:—

"July 11, 1861, in north latitude 89 degrees 59 minutes 15 seconds, 'Queen Island' was discovered at the North Pole by Captain Hatteras, commanding the brig Forward of Liverpool, who has set his name hereto, with his companions. Whoever shall find this document is entreated to forward it to the Admiralty.

(Signed) JOHN HATTERAS, Captain of the Forward. DR. CLAWBONNY. ALTAMONT, Captain of the Porpoise. JOHNSON, Boatswain. BELL, Carpenter."

"And now, my friends, to table!" said the doctor, gayly.



CHAPTER XXIV. POLAR COSMOGRAPHY.

Of course, to eat at table, they were obliged to sit on the ground.

"But," said Clawbonny, "who wouldn't give all the tables and dining-rooms in the world, to dine in north latitude 89 degrees 59 minutes 15 seconds?"

The thoughts of each one were about their situation. They had no other idea than the North Pole. The dangers they had undergone to reach it, those to overcome before returning, were forgotten in their unprecedented success. What neither Europeans, Americans, nor Asiatics had been able to do, they had accomplished. Hence they were all ready to listen to the doctor when he told them all that his inexhaustible memory could recall about their position. It was with real enthusiasm that he first proposed their captain's health.



"To John Hatteras!" he said.

"To John Hatteras!" repeated the others.

"To the North Pole!" answered the captain, with a warmth that was unusual in this man who was usually so self-restrained, but who now was in a state of great nervous excitement. They touched glasses, and the toasts were followed by earnest hand-shakings.

"It is," said the doctor, "the most important geographical fact of our day! Who would have thought that this discovery would precede that of the centre of Africa or Australia? Really, Hatteras, you are greater than Livingstone, Burton, and Barth! All honor to you!"

"You are right, Doctor," said Altamont; "it would seem, from the difficulty of the undertaking, that the Pole would be the last place discovered. Whenever the government was absolutely determined to know the middle of Africa, it would have succeeded at the cost of so many men and so much money; but here nothing is less certain than success, and there might be obstacles really insuperable."

"Insuperable!" cried Hatteras with warmth; "there are no insuperable obstacles; there are more or less determined minds, that is all!"

"Well," said Johnson, "we are here, and it is well. But, Doctor, will you tell me, once for all, what there is so remarkable about the Pole?"

"It is this, Johnson, that it is the only motionless part of the globe, while all the rest is turning with extreme rapidity."

"But I don't see that we are more motionless here than at Liverpool."

"No more than you perceive the motion at Liverpool; and that is because in both cases you participate in the movement or the repose. But the fact is no less certain. The earth rotates in twenty-four hours, and this motion is on an axis with its extremities at the two poles. Well, we are at one of the extremities of the axis, which is necessarily motionless."

"So," said Bell, "when our countrymen are turning rapidly, we are perfectly still?"

"Very nearly, for we are not exactly at the Pole."

"You are right, Doctor," said Hatteras seriously, and shaking his head; "we are still forty-five seconds from the precise spot."

"That is not far," answered Altamont, "and we can consider ourselves motionless."

"Yes," continued the doctor, "while those living at the equator move at the rate of three hundred and ninety-six leagues an hour."

"And without getting tired!" said Bell.

"Exactly!" answered the doctor.

"But," continued Johnson, "besides this movement of rotation, doesn't the earth also move about the sun?"

"Yes, and this takes a year."

"Is it swifter than the other?"

"Infinitely so; and I ought to say that, although we are at the Pole, it takes us with it as well as all the people in the world. So our pretended immobility is a chimera: we are motionless with regard to the other points of the globe, but not so with regard to the sun."

"Good!" said Bell, with an accent of comic regret; "so I, who thought I was still, was mistaken! This illusion has to be given up! One can't have a moment's peace in this world."

"You are right, Bell," answered Johnson; "and will you tell us, Doctor, how fast this motion is?"

"It is very fast," answered the doctor; "the earth moves around the sun seventy-six times faster than a twenty-four-pound cannon-ball flies, which goes one hundred and ninety-five fathoms a second. It moves, then, seven leagues and six tenths per second; you see it is very different from the diurnal movement of the equator."

"The deuce!" said Bell; "that is incredible, Doctor! More than seven leagues a second, and that when it would have been so easy to be motionless, if God had wished it!"

"Good!" said Altamont; "do you think so, Bell? In that case no more night, nor spring, nor autumn, nor winter!"

"Without considering a still more terrible result," continued the doctor.

"What is that?" asked Johnson.

"We should all fall into the sun!"

"Fall into the sun!" repeated Bell with surprise.

"Yes. If this motion were to stop, the earth would fall into the sun in sixty-four days and a half."

"A fall of sixty-four days!" said Johnson.

"No more nor less," answered the doctor; "for it would have to fall a distance of thirty-eight millions of leagues."

"What is the weight of the earth?" asked Altamont.

"It is five thousand eight hundred and ninety-one quadrillions of tons."

"Good!" said Johnson; "those numbers have no meaning."

"For that reason, Johnson, I was going to give you two comparisons which you could remember. Don't forget that it would take seventy-five moons to make the sun, and three hundred and fifty thousand earths to make up the weight of the sun."

"That is tremendous!" said Altamont.

"Tremendous is the word," answered the doctor; "but, to return to the Pole, no lesson on cosmography on this part of the globe could be more opportune, if it doesn't weary you."

"Go on, Doctor, go on!"

"I told you," resumed the doctor, who took as much pleasure in giving as the others did in receiving instruction,—"I told you that the Pole was motionless in comparison with the rest of the globe. Well, that is not quite true!"

"What!" said Bell, "has that got to be taken back?"

"Yes, Bell, the Pole is not always exactly in the same place; formerly the North Star was farther from the celestial pole than it is now. So our Pole has a certain motion; it describes a circle in about twenty-six years. That comes from the precession of the equinoxes, of which I shall speak soon."

"But," asked Altamont, "might it not happen that some day the Pole should get farther from its place?"

"Ah, my dear Altamont," answered the doctor, "you bring up there a great question, which scientific men investigated for a long time in consequence of a singular discovery."

"What was that?"

"This is it. In 1771 the body of a rhinoceros was found on the shore of the Arctic Sea, and in 1799 that of an elephant on the coast of Siberia. How did the animals of warm countries happen to be found in these latitudes? Thereupon there was much commotion among geologists, who were not so wise as a Frenchman, M. Elie de Beaumont, has been since. He showed that these animals used to live in rather high latitudes, and that the streams and rivers simply carried their bodies to the places where they were found. But do you know the explanation which scientific men gave before this one?"

"Scientific men are capable of anything," said Altamont.

"Yes, in explanation of a fact; well, they imagined that the Pole used to be at the equator and the equator at the Pole."

"Bah!"

"It was exactly what I tell you. Now, if it had been so, since the earth is flattened more than five leagues at the pole, the seas, carried to the equator by centrifugal force, would have covered mountains twice as high as the Himalayas; all the countries near the polar circle, Sweden, Norway, Russia, Siberia, Greenland, and New Britain, would have been buried in five leagues of water, while the regions at the equator, having become the pole, would have formed plateaus fifteen leagues high!"

"What a change!" said Johnson.

"O, that made no difference to scientific men!"

"And how did they explain the alteration?" asked Altamont.

"They said it was due to the shock of collision with a comet. The comet is the deus ex machina; whenever one comes to a difficult question in cosmography, a comet is lugged in. It is the most obliging of the heavenly bodies, and at the least sign from a scientific man it disarranges itself to arrange everything."

"Then," said Johnson, "according to you, Doctor, this change is impossible?"

"Impossible!"

"And if it should take place?"

"If it did, the equator would be frozen in twenty-four hours!"

"Good! if it were to take place now," said Bell, "people would as likely as not say we had never gone to the Pole."

"Calm yourself, Bell. To return to the immobility of the terrestrial axis, the following is the result: if we were to spend a winter here, we should see the stars describing a circle about us. As for the sun, the day of the vernal equinox, March 23d, it would appear to us (I take no account of refraction) exactly cut in two by the horizon, and would rise gradually in longer and longer curves; but here it is remarkable that when it has once risen it sets no more; it is visible for six months. Then its disk touches the horizon again at the autumnal equinox, September 22d, and as soon as it is set, it is seen no more again all winter."

"You were speaking just now of the flattening of the earth at the poles," said Johnson; "be good enough to explain that, Doctor."

"I will. Since the earth was fluid when first created, you understand that its rotary movement would try to drive part of the mobile mass to the equator, where the centrifugal force was greater. If the earth had been motionless, it would have remained a perfect sphere; but in consequence of the phenomenon I have just described, it has an ellipsoidal form, and points at the pole are nearer the centre of the earth than points at the equator by about five leagues."

"So," said Johnson, "if our captain wanted to take us to the centre of the earth, we should have five leagues less to go?"

"Exactly, my friend."

"Well, Captain, it's so much gained! We ought to avail ourselves of it."

But Hatteras did not answer. Evidently he had lost all interest in the conversation, or perhaps he was listening without hearing.

"Well," answered the doctor, "according to certain scientific men, it would be worth while to try this expedition."

"What! really?" exclaimed Johnson.

"But let me finish," answered the doctor. "I will tell you. I must first tell you this flattening of the poles is the cause of the precession of the equinoxes; that is to say, why every year the vernal equinox comes a day sooner than it would if the earth were perfectly round. This comes from the attraction of the sun operating in a different way on the heaped-up land of the equator, which then experiences a retrograde movement. Subsequently it displaces this Pole a little, as I just said. But, independently of this effect, this flattening ought to have a more curious and more personal effect, which we should perceive if we had mathematical sensibility."

"What do you mean?" asked Bell.

"I mean that we are heavier here than at Liverpool."

"Heavier?"

"Yes; ourselves, the dogs, our guns, and instruments!"

"Is it possible?"

"Certainly, and for two reasons: the first is, that we are nearer the centre of the globe, which consequently attracts us more strongly, and this force of gravitation is nothing but weight; the second is, the rotary force, which is nothing at the pole, is very marked at the equator, and objects there have a tendency to fly from the earth: they are less heavy."

"What!" exclaimed Johnson, seriously; "have we not the same weight everywhere?"

"No, Johnson; according to Newton's law, bodies attract one another directly as their masses, and inversely to the square of their distances. Here I weigh more, because I am nearer the centre of attraction; and on another planet I should weigh more or less according to the mass of the planet."

"What!" said Bell, "in the moon—"

"In the moon my weight, which is two hundred pounds at Liverpool, would be only thirty-two pounds."

"And in the sun?"

"O, in the sun I should weigh more than five thousand pounds!"

"Heavens!" said Bell; "you'd need a derrick to move your legs."

"Probably," answered the doctor, laughing at Bell's amazement; "but here the difference is imperceptible, and by an equal effort of the muscles Bell would leap as high as on the docks at Liverpool."

"Yes, but in the sun?" urged Bell.

"My friend," answered the doctor, "the upshot of it all is that we are well off where we are, and need not want to go elsewhere."

"You said just now," resumed Altamont, "that perhaps it would be worth while to make a journey to the centre of the world; has such an undertaking ever been thought of?"

"Yes, and this is all I'm going to say about the Pole. There is no point in the world which has given rise to more chimeras and hypotheses. The ancients, in their ignorance, placed the garden of the Hesperides there. In the Middle Ages it was supposed that the earth was upheld on axles placed at the poles, on which it revolved; but when comets were seen moving freely, that idea had to be given up. Later, there was a French astronomer, Bailly, who said that the lost people mentioned by Plato, the Atlantides, lived here. Finally, it has been asserted in our own time that there was an immense opening at the poles, from which came the Northern Lights, and through which one could reach the inside of the earth; since in the hollow sphere two planets, Pluto and Proserpine, were said to move, and the air was luminous in consequence of the strong pressure it felt."

"That has been maintained?" asked Altamont.

"Yes, it has been written about seriously. Captain Symmes, a countryman of ours, proposed to Sir Humphry Davy, Humboldt, and Arago, to undertake the voyage! But they declined."

"And they did well."

"I think so. Whatever it may be, you see, my friends, that the imagination has busied itself about the Pole, and that sooner or later we must come to the reality."

"At any rate, we shall see for ourselves," said Johnson, who clung to his idea.

"Then, to-morrow we'll start," said the doctor, smiling at seeing the old sailor but half convinced; "and if there is any opening to the centre of the earth, we shall go there together."



CHAPTER XXV. MOUNT HATTERAS.

After this solid conversation every one made himself as comfortable as possible in the cavern, and soon fell asleep. Every one, that is, except Hatteras. Why did not this strange man sleep?

Was not the object of his life attained? Had he not accomplished the bold projects which lay so near his heart? Why did not calmness succeed the agitation in his ardent mind? Would not one suppose that, when he had accomplished this end, Hatteras would fall into a sort of dejection, and that his over-stretched nerves would seek repose? After succeeding, it would seem natural that he should be seized with the feeling of sadness, which always follows satisfied desires.

But no. He was only more excited. It was not, however, the thought of returning which agitated him so. Did he wish to go farther? Was there no limit to his ambition, and did he find the world too small, because he had been around it? However this may have been, he could not sleep. And yet this first night spent at the pole of the world was pleasant and quiet. The island was absolutely uninhabited. There was not a bird in its fire-impregnated atmosphere, not an animal on the soil of cinders, not a fish in its boiling waters. Only afar off the dull murmur of the mountain, from the summit of which arose puffs of hot smoke.

When Bell, Johnson, Altamont, and the doctor awoke, Hatteras was not to be seen near them. Being anxious, they left the cave, and saw the captain standing on a rock. His eyes were fixed on the top of the volcano. He held his instruments in his hands, having evidently been calculating the exact height of the mountain. The doctor went up to him and spoke to him several times before he could rouse him from his revery. At last the captain seemed to understand him.



"Forward!" said the doctor, who was examining him attentively,—"forward! let us explore our island; we are all ready for our last excursion."

"Our last," said Hatteras, with the intonation of people who are dreaming aloud; "yes, the last, indeed. But also," he continued with great animation, "the most wonderful!"

He spoke in this way, rubbing his hands over his brow as if to allay its throbbing. At that moment, Altamont, Johnson, and Bell joined him; Hatteras appeared to awaken from his revery.



"My friends," he said with emotion, "thanks for your courage, thanks for your perseverance, thanks for your superhuman efforts, which have allowed us to set foot on this land!"

"Captain!" said Johnson, "we have only obeyed; all the honor is due to you alone!"

"No, no!" resumed Hatteras with emotion; "to you as much as to me! to Altamont as well as to all of us! as to the doctor himself— O, let my heart well over in your hands! It can no longer restrain its joy and gratitude!"

Hatteras clasped the hands of his companions. He walked to and fro, no longer master of himself.

"We have only done our duty as Englishmen," said Bell.

"Our duty as friends," continued the doctor.

"Yes," said Hatteras, "but all have not performed this duty. Some have given way! Still, they must be pardoned, both who were treacherous, and those who were led away to it! Poor men! I forgive them. You understand me, Doctor?"

"Yes," answered the doctor, who was very uneasy at Hatteras's excitement.

"So," went on the captain, "I don't want them to lose the money they came so far to seek. No, I shall not alter my plan; they shall be rich,—if they ever see England again!"

Few could have withstood the tenderness with which Hatteras spoke these last words.

"But, Captain," said Johnson, with an effort at pleasantry, "one would say you were making your will."

"Perhaps I am," answered Hatteras, seriously.

"Still you have before you a long and glorious life," continued the old sailor.

"Who can say?" said Hatteras.

A long silence followed these words. The doctor did not dare to try to interpret the last remark. But Hatteras soon expressed his meaning, for in a hasty, hardly restrained voice, he went on:—

"My friends, listen to me. We have done a good deal so far, and yet there is a good deal to do."

His companions gazed at him in astonishment.

"Yes, we are on the land of the Pole, but we are not on the Pole itself!"

"How so?" asked Altamont.

"You don't mean it!" cried the doctor, anxiously.

"Yes!" resumed Hatteras, earnestly, "I said that an Englishman should set foot on the Pole; I said it, and an Englishman shall do it."

"What!" ejaculated the doctor.

"We are now forty-five seconds from the unknown point," Hatteras went on, with increasing animation; "where it is, I am going!"

"But that is the top of the volcano!" said the doctor.

"I'm going!"

"It's an inaccessible spot!"

"I'm going!"

"It's a fiery crater!"

"I'm going!"

The firmness with which Hatteras uttered these words cannot be given. His friends were stupefied; they gazed with horror at the volcano tipped with flame. Then the doctor began; he urged and besought Hatteras to give up his design; he said everything he could imagine, from entreaty to well-meant threats; but he obtained no concession from the nervous captain, who was possessed with a sort of madness which may be called polar madness. Only violent means could stop him, rushing to his ruin. But seeing that thereby they would produce serious results, the doctor wished to keep them for a last resource. He hoped, too, that some physical impossibility, some unsurmountable difficulty, would compel him to give up his plan.

"Since it is so," he said, "we shall follow you."

"Yes," answered the captain, "half-way up the mountain! No farther! Haven't you got to carry back to England the copy of the document which proves our discovery, in case—"

"Still—"

"It is settled," said Hatteras, in a tone of command; "and since my entreaties as a friend are not enough, I order it as captain."

The doctor was unwilling to urge him any further, and a few moments later the little band, equipped for a hard climb, and preceded by Duke, set out. The sky was perfectly clear. The thermometer stood at 52 degrees. The air had all the brilliancy which is so marked at this high latitude. It was eight o'clock in the morning. Hatteras went ahead with his dog, the others followed close behind.

"I'm anxious," said Johnson.

"No, no, there's nothing to fear," answered the doctor; "we are here."

It was a strange island, in appearance so new and singular! The volcano did not seem old, and geologists would have ascribed a recent date to its formation.

The rocks were heaped upon one another, and only kept in place by almost miraculous balancing. The mountain, in fact, was composed of nothing but stones that had fallen from above. There was no soil, no moss, no lichen, no trace of vegetation. The carbonic acid from the crater had not yet had time to unite with the hydrogen of the water; nor the ammonia of the clouds, to form under the action of the light, organized matter. This island had arisen from successive volcanic eruptions, like many other mountains; what they have hurled forth has built them up. For instance, Etna has poured forth a volume of lava larger than itself; and the Monte Nuovo, near Naples, was formed by ashes in the short space of forty-eight hours. The heap of rocks composing Queen's Island had evidently come from the bowels of the earth. Formerly the sea covered it all; it had been formed long since by the condensation of the vapor on the cooling globe; but in proportion as the volcanoes of the Old and New World disappeared, they were replaced by new craters.

In fact, the earth can be compared to a vast spheroidal boiler. Under the influence of the central fire an immense quantity of vapor is generated, which is exposed to a pressure of thousands of atmospheres, and which would blow up the globe, were it not for the safety-valves opening on the outside.

These safety-valves are the volcanoes; when one closes, another opens; and at the poles, where, doubtless in consequence of the flattening of the earth's surface, the crust is thinner, it is not strange that a volcano should be suddenly formed by the upheaval of the bottom of the waves. The doctor noticed all this as he followed Hatteras; his foot sank into a volcanic tufa, and the deposits of ashes, volcanic stones, etc., like the syenite and granite of Iceland. But he attributed a comparatively recent origin to the island, on account of the fact that no sedimentary soil had yet formed upon it. Water, too, was lacking. If Queen's Island had existed for several years, there would have been springs upon it, as there are in the neighborhood of volcanoes. Now, not only was there no drop of water there, but the vapors which arose from the stream of lava seemed absolutely anhydrous.

This island, then, was of recent formation; and since it appeared in one day, it might disappear in another and sink beneath the ocean.

The ascent grew more difficult the higher they went; the sides of the mountain became nearly perpendicular, and they had to be very careful to avoid accident. Often columns of cinders were blown about them and threatened to choke them, or torrents of lava barred their path. On some such places these streams were hard on top, but the molten stream flowed beneath. Each one had to test it first to escape sinking into the glowing mass. From time to time the crater vomited forth huge red-hot rocks amid burning gases; some of these bodies burst in the air like shells, and the fragments were hurled far off in all directions. The innumerable dangers of this ascent may be readily perceived, as well as the foolhardiness of the attempt.

Still, Hatteras climbed with wonderful agility, and while spurning the use of his iron-tipped staff, he ascended the steepest slopes. He soon reached a circular rock, which formed a sort of plateau about ten feet broad; a glowing stream surrounded it, which was divided at the corner by a higher rock, and left only a narrow passage through which Hatteras slipped boldly. There he stopped, and his companions were able to join him. Then he seemed to estimate the distance yet remaining; horizontally there were only about six hundred feet of the crater remaining, that is to say, from the mathematical point of the Pole; but vertically they had fifteen hundred feet yet to climb. The ascent had already taken three hours; Hatteras did not seem tired; his companions were exhausted.

The top of the volcano seemed inaccessible. The doctor wished at any risk to keep Hatteras from going higher. At first he tried gentle means, but the captain's excitement amounted to delirium; on the way he had exhibited all the signs of growing madness, and whoever has known him in the different scenes of his life cannot be surprised. In proportion as Hatteras rose above the ocean his excitement increased; he lived no longer with men; he thought he was growing larger with the mountain itself.

"Hatteras," said the doctor, "this is far enough! we can't go any farther!"

"Stay where you are, then," answered the captain in a strange voice; "I shall go higher!"

"No! that's useless! you are at the Pole here!"

"No, no, higher!"

"My friend, it's I who am speaking to you, Dr. Clawbonny! Don't you know me?"

"Higher! higher!" repeated the madman.

"Well, no, we sha'n't let—"

The doctor had not finished the sentence before Hatteras, by a violent effort, sprang over the stream of lava and was out of their reach. They uttered a cry, thinking Hatteras was lost in the fiery abyss; but he had reached the other side, followed by Duke, who was unwilling to abandon him.

He disappeared behind a puff of smoke, and his voice was heard growing fainter and fainter in the distance.

"To the north!" he was shouting, "to the top of Mount Hatteras! Do you remember Mount Hatteras?"

They could not think of getting up to him; there were twenty chances to one against their being able to cross the stream he had leaped over with the skill and luck of madmen. Nor could they get around it. Altamont in vain tried to pass; he was nearly lost in trying to cross the stream of lava; his companions were obliged to hold him by force.



"Hatteras, Hatteras!" shouted the doctor.

But the captain did not answer; Duke's barking alone was heard upon the mountain.

Still, Hatteras could be seen at intervals through the column of smoke and the showers of cinders. Sometimes his arm or head would emerge from the whirlwind. Then he would disappear and be seen again higher up in the rocks. His height diminished with the fantastic swiftness of objects rising in the air. Half an hour later he seemed but a fraction of his usual size.

The air was filled with the dull noises of the volcano; the mountain was roaring like a boiler, its sides were quivering. Hatteras kept on, and Duke followed. From time to time some enormous rock would give way beneath them and go crashing down to the sea. But Hatteras did not look back. He had made use of his staff as a pole on which to fasten the English flag. His companions observed every one of his movements. His dimensions became gradually smaller, and Duke seemed no larger than a rat. One moment the wind seemed to drive down upon them a great wave of flame. The doctor uttered a cry of anguish, but Hatteras reappeared, standing and brandishing the flag.



This sight lasted for more than an hour,—an hour of struggle with the trembling rocks, with the beds of ashes into which this madman would sink up to the waist. Now he would be climbing on his knees and making use of every inequality in the mountain, and now he would hang by his hands at some sharp corner, swinging in the wind like a dry leaf.

At last he reached the top, the yawning mouth of the crater. The doctor then hoped that the wretched man, having attained his object, would perhaps return and have only those dangers before him.

He gave a last shout.

"Hatteras, Hatteras!"

The doctor's cry moved the American's heart so that he cried out,—

"I will save him!"

Then with one leap crossing the fiery torrent at the risk of falling in, he disappeared among the rocks. Clawbonny did not have time to stop him. Still, Hatteras, having reached the top, was climbing on top of a rock which overhung the abyss. The stones were raining about him. Duke was still following him. The poor beast seemed already dizzy at the sight beneath him. Hatteras was whirling about his head the flag, which was lighted with the brilliant reflection, and the red bunting could be seen above the crater. With one hand Hatteras was holding it; with the other he was pointing to the zenith, the celestial pole. Still he seemed to hesitate. He was seeking the mathematical point where all the meridians meet, and on which in his sublime obstinacy he wanted to set his foot.

Suddenly the rock gave way beneath him. He disappeared. A terrible cry from his companions rose even to the summit of the mountain. A second—a century—passed! Clawbonny considered his friend lost and buried forever in the depths of the volcano. But Altamont was there, and Duke too. The man and the dog had seized him just when he was disappearing in the abyss. Hatteras was saved, saved in spite of himself, and half an hour later the captain of the Forward lay unconscious in the arms of his despairing friends.

When he came to himself, the doctor gave him a questioning glance in mute agony. But his vague look, like that of a blind man, made no reply.

"Heavens!" said Johnson, "he is blind!"

"No," answered Clawbonny,—"no! My poor friends, we have saved Hatteras's body! His mind is at the top of the volcano! He has lost his reason!"

"Mad?" cried Johnson and Altamont in deep distress.

"Mad!" answered the doctor.

And he wept bitterly.



CHAPTER XXVI. RETURN TO THE SOUTH.

Three hours after this sad conclusion to the adventures of Captain Hatteras, Clawbonny, Altamont, and the two sailors were assembled in the cavern at the foot of the volcano. Then Clawbonny was asked to give his opinion on what was to be done.

"My friends," he said, "we cannot prolong our stay at Queen's Island; the sea is open before us; our provisions are sufficient; we must set out and reach Fort Providence as soon as possible, and we can go into winter-quarters till next summer."

"That is my opinion," said Altamont; "the wind is fair, and to-morrow we shall set sail."

The day passed in great gloom. The captain's madness was a sad foreboding, and when Johnson, Bell, and Altamont thought of their return, they were afraid of their loneliness and remoteness. They felt the need of Hatteras's bold soul. Still, like energetic men they made ready for a new struggle with the elements, and with themselves, in case they should feel themselves growing faint-hearted.

The next day, Saturday, July 13th, the camping materials were put on the boat, and soon everything was ready for their departure. But before leaving this rock forever, the doctor, following Hatteras's intentions, put up a cairn at the place where the captain reached the island; this cairn was built of large rocks laid on one another, so as to form a perfectly visible landmark, if it were not destroyed by the eruption.



On one of the lateral stones Bell carved with a chisel this simple inscription:—

JOHN HATTERAS 1861.

A copy of the document was placed inside of the cairn in an hermetically sealed tin cylinder, and the proof of this great discovery was left here on these lonely rocks.

Then the four men and the captain,—a poor body without a mind,—and his faithful Duke, sad and melancholy, got into the boat for the return voyage. It was ten o'clock in the morning. A new sail was set up with the canvas of the tent. The launch, sailing before the wind, left Queen's Island, and that evening the doctor, standing on his bench, waved a last farewell to Mount Hatteras, which was lighting up the horizon.

Their voyage was very quick; the sea, which was always open, was easy sailing, and it seemed really easier to go away from the Pole than to approach it. But Hatteras was in no state to understand what was going on about him; he lay at full length in the launch, his mouth closed, his expression dull, and his arms folded. Duke lay at his feet. It was in vain that the doctor questioned him. Hatteras did not hear him.

For forty-eight hours the breeze was fair and the sea smooth. Clawbonny and his companions rejoiced in the north-wind. July 15th, they made Altamont Harbor in the south; but since the Polar Ocean was open all along the coast, instead of crossing New America by sledge, they resolved to sail around it, and reach Victoria Bay by sea. This voyage was quicker and easier. In fact, the space which had taken them a fortnight on sledges took them hardly a week by sail; and after following the rugged outline of the coast, which was fringed with numerous fiords, and determining its shape, they reached Victoria Bay, Monday evening, July 23d.

The launch was firmly anchored to the shore, and each one ran to Fort Providence. The Doctor's House, the stores, the magazine, the fortifications, all had melted in the sun, and the supplies had been devoured by hungry beasts.

It was a sad sight.

They were nearly at the end of their supplies, and they had intended to renew them at Fort Providence. The impossibility of passing the winter there was evident. Like people accustomed to decide rapidly, they determined to reach Baffin's Bay as soon as possible.

"We have nothing else to do," said the doctor; "Baffin's Bay is not six hundred miles from here; we might sail as far as our launch would carry us, reach Jones's Sound, and from there the Danish settlements."

"Yes," answered Altamont; "let us collect all the provisions we can, and leave."

By strict search they found a few chests of pemmican here and there, and two barrels of preserved meat, which had escaped destruction. In short, they had a supply for six weeks, and powder enough. This was promptly collected. The day was devoted to calking the launch, repairing it, and the next day, July 24th, they put out to sea again.

The continent towards latitude 83 degrees inclined towards the east. It was possible that it joined the countries known under the name of Grinnell Land, Ellesmere, and North Lincoln, which form the coast-line of Baffin's Bay. They could then hold it for certain that Jones's Sound opened in the inner seas, like Lancaster Sound. The launch then sailed without much difficulty, easily avoiding the floating ice. The doctor, by way of precaution against possible delay, put them all on half-rations; but this did not trouble them much, and their health was unimpaired.

Besides, they were able to shoot occasionally; they killed ducks, geese, and other game, which gave them fresh and wholesome food. As for their drink, they had a full supply from the floating ice, which they met on the way, for they took care not to go far from the coast, the launch being too small for the open sea.

At this period of the year the thermometer was already, for the greater part of time, beneath the freezing-point; after a certain amount of rainy weather snow began to fall, with other signs of the end of summer; the sun sank nearer the horizon, and more and more of its disk sank beneath it every day. July 30th they saw it disappear for the first time, that is to say, they had a few minutes of night.

Still, the launch sailed well, sometimes making from sixty to seventy-five miles a day; they did not stop a moment; they knew what fatigues to endure, what obstacles to surmount; the way by land was before them, if they had to take it, and these confined seas must soon be closed; indeed, the young ice was already forming here and there. Winter suddenly succeeds summer in these latitudes; there are no intermediate seasons; no spring, no autumn. So they had to hurry. July 31st, the sky being clear at sunset, the first stars were seen in the constellations overhead. From this day on there was perpetual mist, which interfered very much with their sailing. The doctor, when he saw all the signs of winter's approach, became very uneasy; he knew the difficulties Sir John Ross had found in getting to Baffin's Bay, after leaving his ship; and indeed, having once tried to pass the ice, he was obliged to return to his ship, and go into winter-quarters for the fourth year; but he had at least a shelter against the weather, food, and fuel. If such a misfortune were to befall the survivors of the Forward, if they had to stop or put back, they were lost; the doctor did not express his uneasiness to his companions; but he urged them to get as far eastward as possible.



Finally, August 15th, after thirty days of rather good sailing, after struggling for forty-eight hours against the ice, which was accumulating, after having imperilled their little launch a hundred times, they saw themselves absolutely stopped, unable to go farther; the sea was all frozen, and the thermometer marked on an average +15 degrees. Moreover, in all the north and east it was easy to detect the nearness of land, by the presence of pebbles; frozen fresh water was found more frequently. Altamont made an observation with great exactness, and found they were in latitude 77 degrees 15 minutes, and longitude 85 degrees 2 minutes.

"So, then," said the doctor, "this is our exact position; we have reached North Lincoln, exactly at Cape Eden; we are entering Jones's Sound; if we had been a little luckier, we should have found the sea open to Baffin's Bay. But we need not complain. If my poor Hatteras had at first found so open a sea, he would have soon reached the Pole, his companions would not have deserted him, and he would not have lost his reason under his terrible sufferings!"

"Then," said Altamont, "we have only one course to follow; to abandon the launch, and get to the east coast of Lincoln by sledge."

"Abandon the launch and take the sledge? Well," answered the doctor; "but instead of crossing Lincoln, I propose going through Jones's Sound on the ice, and reaching North Devon."