Works of Jules Verne/Adventures of Captain Hatteras/The English at the North Pole/Chapter 17
CHAPTER XVII
THE ROUTE TO THE NORTH
The crew had apparently returned to their good habits of discipline and obedience. Their work was not fatiguing now, and they had abundance of leisure. The temperature still remained above freezing point.
Duk, who had grown quite friendly and sociable, struck up the closest friendship with Dr. Clawbonny. They were on the best possible terms, though it must be confessed Duk was quite master, and made the little Doctor do whatever he pleased. Towards the crew, too, and officers generally, Duk was amiable enough, except towards Shandon, and from him he always ran away as fast as he could, doubtless impelled by some secret instinct. He also kept a sharp tooth For Penn and Warren; and what a tooth it was! He growled whenever they came near, though they never again attempted to lay a finger on him. No one dared to touch the captain's dog, his "familiar spirit," as Clifton called him.
On the whole, however, the confidence of the men seemed restored, and they were behaving well.
"It looks as if the crew had laid the captain's words to heart," remarked Wall to Shandon one day. "They don't appear now to have any misgivings about success."
"They are wrong," said Shandon; "if they were only to reflect and examine their situation, they would see we are going from one imprudent step to another."
"And yet," returned Wall, "the sea is certainly more open, and we are going on no untried route. Are you not exaggerating, Shandon?"
"No, Wall, I am not; the hatred or jealousy, if you choose to call it so, which I feel towards Hatteras, has not blinded my eyes. Tell me, have you been down to see how the coals stand?"
"No," replied Wall.
"Well, just you go, and you will see how fast our stock is diminishing. The rule with us should have been to rely on our sails mainly, reserving the screw for special occasions when the wind was contrary, or there were strong opposing currents; our combustibles ought to be husbanded with the most rigid economy, for who knows where we may be driven, or how long we may be frozen up in these seas? But Hatteras, in his frenzied ambition to push north and reach the inaccessible Pole, never troubles himself about such small matters. Whether the wind is for or against us, he must have all the steam up, and if he goes on much longer in the same fashion, we stand a chance of finding ourselves in a pretty fix some day, and even of our total loss."
"If what you say is true, Shandon, the case is serious," replied Wall.
"Yes, Wall, very serious; not merely for the engine, which would be utterly useless without coal, just perhaps when we most needed it; but for ourselves, too, when we think of having to winter here, which we certainly must do, soon or late One needs to think of cold a little in a country where the quicksilver even freezes in the thermometer."
"But, if I am not mistaken, Shandon, the captain is reckoning on replenishing his stock at Isle Beechey. He can get an abundance of fuel there."
"Can people go just where they choose, Wall, in these seas? Can we ever reckon on finding the straits open? And supposing he should miss the isle, or be unable to get to it, what will become of us?"
"You are right, Shandon. It is certainly imprudent of Captain Hatteras, but why don't you talk to him on the subject."
"No, Wall," said Shandon, with ill-concealed bitterness, "I have made up my mind to be silent. I have no responsibility now; I shall watch the course of events and do whatever I am told without expressing an opinion."
"Let me tell you, Shandon, you are wrong. This is a question of our common interest, and imprudence on the captain's part may cost us all dear."
"And would he listen, Wall, if I were to speak?"
Wall could not reply in the affirmative. He evaded the question by asking whether the representations of the crew would have more effect.
"The crew!" repeated Shandon, shrugging his shoulders. "Why, Wall, you surely cannot have noticed the men. They are not caring the least about their safety just now. All they know is, that they are getting near the 72nd parallel, and that each degree beyond that will bring them a thousand pounds!"
"You are right, Shandon," replied Wall. "The captain knows the best way to keep his men."
"For the present, at any rate, it is the best," replied Shandon.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean that while there is no danger and no hard work, things will go on very well. Hatteras has caught them with a golden bait, but what's only done for money is never much worth. Wait till we get into difficult and trying circumstances; wait till sickness, and cold, and misery, and despondency come upon us, and all the calamities towards which we are madly rushing, and you'll see how few of them will think much of the prize to be won."
"Then you don't think Shandon, that Hatteras will succeed in his attempt?"
"No, Wall, he will not succeed. An enterprise like this requires perfect harmony of thought and feeling among the leaders, and this is wanting among us. More than that, Hatteras is a madman. All his past history proves it. Well, we shall see. A time may come when he will be compelled to give up the command of the ship to a less venturesome man."
"I don't know about that," said Wall, with a doubtful shake of the head. "He will always have some to stand by him; he will have———"
"He will have Dr. Clawbonny," said Shandon, interrupting him, "a learned man who cares for nothing but learning; Johnson, a sailor, who is a slave to discipline, and who never takes the trouble to examine a question; and perhaps one or two others, such as Bell, the carpenter, not more than four at the outside—four out of eighteen of us. No, Wall; Hatteras has not the confidence of the crew, and he knows that well enough. He bribes them with money. He managed to work on their excitable natures very cleverly with the Franklin story; but that won't last, I tell you, and if he don't succeed in reaching Isle Beechey he is ruined."
"If the crew only suspected that———"
"I beg you say nothing to them whatever on the subject. They will soon make their own remarks. Moreover, we could not do better meantime than continue our present course. Perhaps, after all, what Hatteras thinks going north may prove going back. McClintock Channel opens into Melville Bay, but that succession of straits that leads to Baffin's Bay, begins there too; Hatteras had better take care! The road to the east is easier than that to the north."
Shandon's words revealed his secret sentiments. No wonder Hatteras felt he was a traitor.
As far as the crew went, however, his opinion of them was quite right. Their contentment was entirely owing to the prospect of soon reaching the 72nd parallel. The love of money had taken complete possession of them, and Clifton had calculated accurately the sum that would fall to each. There were sixteen men altogether on board, not counting the captain and the Doctor, who, of course, were not to share in the prize. The amount promised was £1,000; that gave £62 10s to each individual. Should they ever reach the Pole, the eighteen degrees more would enrich them still further with a sum of £1,125—quite a fortune. This would cost the captain £18,000, but he was rich enough to be able to pay it.
On the 16th of June the Forward coasted past Cape Aworth. The white peaks of Mount Rawlinson seemed to pierce the very heavens, the snow and fog making its height appear colossal. The temperature was still some degrees above freezing point. Cascades and cataracts were rushing down the sides of the mountains, and the loud noise of falling avalanches struck upon the ear like the continuous discharge of heavy artillery, reverberating over the glaciers for an immense distance. It was a splendid spectacle, and the ship hugged the coast so closely that objects were distinctly visible. Rare heaths were discovered growing on sheltered rocks, with their pink flowers timidly peeping above the snow. A few miserable looking lichens of a reddish color were also seen, and a dwarf willow, which crept along the ground.
At last, on the 19th of June, the 72nd parallel was crossed, and the brig entered Melville Bay—the "Silver Bay," as Bolton christened it. On the 25th, in spite of a strong breeze from the N. E., she passed the 74th degree, and found herself in Melville Sound, one of the largest in those regions. It was Captain Parry who first traversed it in his great expedition of 1819, and it was for this his crew gained the prize of £5,000 offered by Government.