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- Herausgeber: Charles River Editors
- Kategorie: Fantasy und Science-Fiction
- Sprache: Englisch
- Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2018
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THE FIELD OF ICE
Jules Verne
KYPROS PRESS
Thank you for reading. In the event that you appreciate this book, please consider sharing the good word(s) by leaving a review, or connect with the author.
This book is a work of fiction; its contents are wholly imagined.
All rights reserved. Aside from brief quotations for media coverage and reviews, no part of this book may be reproduced or distributed in any form without the author’s permission. Thank you for supporting authors and a diverse, creative culture by purchasing this book and complying with copyright laws.
Copyright © 2016 by Jules Verne
Interior design by Pronoun
Distribution by Pronoun
TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Field of Ice
CHAPTER I. THE DOCTOR’S INVENTORY.
CHAPTER II. FIRST WORDS OF ALTAMONT.
CHAPTER III. A SEVENTEEN DAYS’ MARCH.
CHAPTER IV. THE LAST CHARGE OF POWDER
CHAPTER V. THE SEAL AND THE BEAR.
CHAPTER VI. THE PORPOISE
CHAPTER VII. AN IMPORTANT DISCUSSION.
CHAPTER VIII. AN EXCURSION TO THE NORTH OF VICTORIA BAY
CHAPTER IX. COLD AND HEAT.
CHAPTER X. WINTER PLEASURES
CHAPTER XI TRACES OF BEARS
CHAPTER XII. IMPRISONED IN DOCTOR’S HOUSE
CHAPTER XIII. THE MINE.
CHAPTER XIV. AN ARCTIC SPRING.
CHAPTER XV. THE NORTH-WEST PASSAGE.
CHAPTER XVI. ARCTIC ARCADIA
CHAPTER XVII. ALTAMONT’S REVENGE.
CHAPTER XVIII. FINAL PREPARATIONS
CHAPTER XIX. MARCH TO THE NORTH
CHAPTER XX. FOOTPRINTS IN THE SNOW.
CHAPTER XXI. THE OPEN SEA.
CHAPTER XXII. GETTING NEAR THE POLE.
CHAPTER XXIII. THE ENGLISH FLAG
CHAPTER XXIV. MOUNT HATTERAS.
CHAPTER XXV. RETURN SOUTH.
CHAPTER XXVI. CONCLUSION.
THE FIELD OF ICE
CHAPTER I. THE DOCTOR’S INVENTORY.
IT WAS A BOLD PROJECT of Hatteras to push his way to the North Pole, and gain for his country the honour and glory of its discovery. But he had done all that lay in human power now, and, after having struggled for nine months against currents and tempests, shattering icebergs and breaking through almost insurmountable barriers, amid the cold of an unprecedented winter, after having outdistanced all his predecessors and accomplished half his task, he suddenly saw all his hopes blasted. The treachery, or rather the despondency, of his worn-out crew, and the criminal folly of one or two leading spirits among them had left him and his little band of men in a terrible situation—helpless in an icy desert, two thousand five hundred miles away from their native land, and without even a ship to shelter them.
However, the courage of Hatteras was still undaunted. The three men which were left him were the
best on board his brig, and while they remained he might venture to hope.
After the cheerful, manly words of the captain, the Doctor felt the best thing to be done was to look their prospects fairly in the face, and know the exact state of things. Accordingly, leaving his companions, he stole away alone down to the scene of the explosion.
Of the Forward, the brig that had been so carefully built and had become so dear, not a vestige remained. Shapeless blackened fragments, twisted bars of iron,
cable ends still smouldering, and here and there in the distance spiral wreaths of smoke, met his eye on all sides. His cabin and all his precious treasures were gone, his books, and instruments, and collections reduced to ashes. As he stood thinking mournfully of his irreparable loss, he was joined by Johnson, who grasped his offered hand in speechless sorrow.
“What’s to become of us?” asked the Doctor.
“Who can tell!” was the old sailor’s reply.
“Anyhow,” said Clawbonny, “do not let us despair! Let us be men!”
“Yes, Mr. Clawbonny, you are right. Now is the time to show our mettle. We are in a bad plight, and how to get out of it, that is the question.”
“Poor old brig!” exclaimed the Doctor. “I had grown so attached to her. I loved her as one loves a house where he has spent a life-time.”
“Ay! it’s strange what a hold those planks and beams get on a fellow’s heart.”
“And the long-boat—is that burnt?” asked the Doctor.
“No, Mr. Clawbonny. Shandon and his gang have carried it off.”
“And the pirogue?”
“Shivered into a thousand pieces? Stop. Do you see those bits of sheet-iron? That is all that remains of it.”
“Then we have nothing but the Halkett-boat?”
“Yes, we have that still, thanks to your idea of taking it with you.”
“That isn’t much,” said the Doctor.
“Oh, those base traitors!” exclaimed Johnson. “Heaven punish them as they deserve!”
“Johnson,” returned the Doctor, gently, “we must not forget how sorely they have been tried. Only the best remain good in the evil day; few can stand trouble. Let us pity our fellow-sufferers, and not curse them.”
For the next few minutes both were silent, and then Johnson asked what had become of the sledge.
“We left it about a mile off,” was the reply.
“In charge of Simpson?”
“No, Simpson is dead, poor fellow!”
“Simpson dead!”
“Yes, his strength gave way entirely, and he first sank.”
“Poor Simpson! And yet who knows if he isn’t rather to be envied?”
“But, for the dead man we have left behind, we have brought back a dying one.”
“A dying man?”
“Yes, Captain Altamont.”
And in a few words he informed Johnson of their discovery.
“An American!” said Johnson, as the recital was ended.
“Yes, everything goes to prove that. But I wonder what the Porpoise was, and what brought her in these seas?”
“She rushed on to her ruin like the rest of foolhardy adventurers; but, tell me, did you find the coal?”
The Doctor shook his head sadly.
“No coal! not a vestige! No, we did not even get as far as the place mentioned by Sir Edward Belcher.”
“Then we have no fuel whatever?” said the old sailor.
“No.”
“And no provisions?”
“No.”
“And no ship to make our way back to England?”
It required courage indeed to face these gloomy realities, but, after a moment’s silence, Johnson said again—
“Well, at any rate we know exactly how we stand. The first thing to be done now is to make a hut, for we can’t stay long exposed to this temperature.”
“Yes, we’ll soon manage that with Bell’s help,” replied the Doctor. “Then we must go and find the sledge, and bring back the American, and have a consultation with Hatteras.”
“Poor captain,” said Johnson, always forgetting his own troubles, “how he must feel it!”
Clawbonny and Bell found Hatteras standing motionless, his arms folded in his usual fashion. He seemed gazing into space, but his face had recovered its calm, self-possessed expression. His faithful dog stood beside him, like his master, apparently insensible to the biting cold, though the temperature was 32 degrees below zero.
Bell lay on the ice in an almost inanimate condition. Johnson had to take vigorous measures to rouse him, but at last, by dint of shaking and rubbing him with snow, he succeeded.
“Come, Bell,” he cried, “don’t give way like this. Exert yourself, my man; we must have a talk about our situation, and we need a place to put our heads in. Come and help me, Bell. You haven’t forgotten how to make a snow hut, have you? There is an iceberg all ready to hand; we’ve only got to hollow it out. Let’s set to work; we shall find that is the best remedy for us.”
Bell tried to shake off his torpor and help his comrade, while Mr. Clawbonny undertook to go and fetch the sledge and the dogs.
“Will you go with him, captain?” asked Johnson.
“No, my friend,” said Hatteras, in a gentle tone, “if the Doctor will kindly undertake the task. Before the day ends I must come to some resolution, and I need to be alone to think. Go. Do meantime whatever you think best. I will deal with the future.”
Johnson went back to the Doctor, and said—
“It’s very strange, but the captain seems quite to have got over his anger. I never heard him speak so gently before.”
“So much the better,” said Clawbonny. “Believe me, Johnson, that man can save us yet.”
And drawing his hood as closely round his head as possible, the Doctor seized his iron-tipped staff, and set out without further delay.
Johnson and Bell commenced operations immediately. They had simply to dig a hole in the heart of a great block of ice; but it was not easy work, owing to the extreme hardness of the material. However, this very hardness guaranteed the solidity of the dwelling, and the further their labours advanced the more they became sheltered.
Hatteras alternately paced up and down, and stood motionless, evidently shrinking from any approach to the scene of explosion.
In about an hour the Doctor returned, bringing with him Altamont lying on the sledge, wrapped up in the folds of the tent. The poor dogs were so exhausted from starvation that they could scarcely draw it along, and they had begun to gnaw their harness. It was, indeed, high time for feasts and men to take food and rest.
While the hut was being still further dug out, the Doctor went foraging about, and had the good fortune to find a little stove, almost undamaged by the explosion. He soon restored it to working trim, and, by the time the hut was completed, had filled it with wood and got it lighted. Before long it was roaring, and diffusing a genial warmth on all sides. The American was brought in and laid on blankets, and the four Englishmen seated themselves round the fire to enjoy their scanty meal of biscuit and hot tea, the last remains of the provisions on the sledge. Not a word was spoken by Hatteras, and the others respected his silence.
When the meal was over, the Doctor rose and went out, making a sign to Johnson to follow.
“Come, Johnson,” he said, “we will take an inventory of all we have left. We must know exactly how we are off, and our treasures are scattered in all directions; so we had better begin, and pick them up as fast as possible, for the snow may fall at any moment, and then it would be quite useless to look for anything.”
“Don’t let us lose a minute, then,” replied Johnson. “Fire and food— those are our chief wants.”
“Very well, you take one side and I’ll take the other, and we’ll search from the centre to the circumference.”
This task occupied two hours, and all they discovered was a little salt meat, about 50 lbs. of pemmican, three sacks of biscuits, a small stock of chocolate, five or six pints of brandy, and about 2 lbs. of coffee, picked up bean by bean off the ice.
Neither blankets, nor hammocks, nor clothing—all had been consumed in the devouring flame.
This slender store of provisions would hardly last three weeks, and they had wood enough to supply the stove for about the same time.
Now that the inventory was made, the next business was to fetch the sledge. The tired-out dogs were harnessed sorely against their will, and before long returned bringing the few but precious treasures found among the débris of the brig. These were safely deposited in the hut, and then Johnson and Clawbonny, half-frozen with their work, resumed their places beside their companions in misfortune.
CHAPTER II. FIRST WORDS OF ALTAMONT.
ABOUT EIGHT O’CLOCK IN THE evening, the grey snow clouds cleared away for a little, and the stars shone out brilliantly in the sky.
Hatteras seized the opportunity and went out silently to take the altitude of some of the principal constellations. He wished to ascertain if the ice-field was still drifting.
In half an hour he returned and sat down in a corner of the hut, where he remained without stirring all night, motionless as if asleep, but in reality buried in deepest thought.
The next day the snow fell heavily, and the Doctor congratulated himself on his wise forethought, when he saw the white sheet lying three feet thick over the scene of the explosion, completely obliterating all traces of the Forward.
It was impossible to venture outside in such weather, but the stove drew capitally, and made the hut quite comfortable, or at any rate it seemed so to the weary, worn out adventurers.
The American was in less pain, and was evidently gradually coming back to life. He opened his eyes, but could not yet speak, for his lips were so affected by the scurvy that articulation was impossible, but he could hear and understand all that was said to him. On learning what had passed, and the circumstances of his discovery, he expressed his thanks by gestures, and the Doctor was too wise to let him know how brief his respite from death would prove. In three weeks at most every vestige of food would be gone.
About noon Hatteras roused himself, and going up to his friends, said—
“We must make up our minds what to do, but I must request Johnson to tell me first all the particulars of the mutiny on the brig, and how this final act of baseness came about.”
“What good will that do?” said the Doctor. “The fact is certain, and it is no use thinking over it.”
“I differ from your opinion,” rejoined Hatteras. “Let me hear the whole affair from Johnson, and then I will banish it from my thoughts.”
“Well,” said the boatswain, “this was how it happened. I did all in my power to prevent, but——”
“I am sure of that, Johnson; and what’s more, I have no doubt the ringleaders had been hatching their plans for some time.”
“That’s my belief too,” said the Doctor.
“And so it is mine,” resumed Johnson; “for almost immediately after your departure Shandon, supported by the others, took the command of the ship.
I could not resist him, and from that moment everybody did pretty much as they pleased. Shandon made no attempt to restrain them: it was his policy to make them believe that their privations and toils were at an end. Economy was entirely disregarded. A blazing fire was kept up in the stove, and the men were allowed to eat and drink at discretion; not only tea and coffee was at their disposal, but all the spirits on board, and on men who had been so long deprived of ardent liquors, you may guess the result. They went on in this manner from the 7th to the 15th of January.”
“And this was Shandon’s doing?” asked Hatteras.
“Yes, captain.”
“Never mention his name to me again! Go on, Johnson.”
“It was about the 24th or 25th of January, that they resolved to abandon the ship. Their plan was to reach the west coast of Baffin’s Bay, and from thence to embark in the boat and follow the track of the whalers, or to get to some of the Greenland settlements on the eastern side. Provisions were abundant, and the sick men were so excited by the hope of return that they were almost well. They began their preparations for departure by making a sledge which they were to draw themselves, as they had no dogs. This was not ready till the 15th of February, and I was always hoping for your arrival, though I half dreaded it too, for you could have done nothing with the men, and they would have massacred you rather than remain on board. I tried my influence on each one separately, remonstrating and reasoning with them, and pointing out the dangers they would encounter, and also the cowardice of leaving you, but it was a mere waste of words; not even the best among them would listen to me. Shandon was impatient to be off, and fixed the 22nd of February for starting. The sledge and the boat were packed as closely as possible with provisions and spirits, and heaps of wood, to obtain which they had hewed the brig down to her water-line. The last day the men ran riot. They completely sacked the ship, and in a drunken paroxysm Pen and two or three others set it on fire. I fought and struggled against them, but they threw me down and assailed me with blows, and then the wretches, headed by Shandon, went off towards the east and were soon out of sight. I found myself alone on the burning ship, and what could I do? The fire- hole was completely blocked up with ice. I had not a single drop of water! For two days the Forward struggled with the flames, and you know the rest.”
A long silence followed the gloomy recital, broken at length by Hatteras, who said—
“Johnson, I thank you; you did all you could to save my ship, but single-handed you could not resist. Again I thank you, and now let the subject be dropped. Let us unite efforts for our common salvation. There are four of us, four companions, four friends, and all our lives are equally precious. Let each give his opinion on the best course for us to pursue.”
“You ask us then, Hatteras,” said the Doctor, “we are all devoted to you, and our words come from our hearts. But will you not state you own views first?”
“That would be little use,” said Hatteras, sadly; “my opinion might appear interested; let me hear all yours first.”
“Captain,” said Johnson, “before pronouncing on such an important matter, I wish to ask you a question.”
“Ask it, then, Johnson.”
“You went out yesterday to ascertain our exact position; well, is the field drifting or stationary?”
“Perfectly stationary. It had not moved since the last reckoning was made. I find we are just where we were before we left, in 80° 15” lat. and 97° 35” long.”
“And what distance are we from the nearest sea to the west?”
“About six hundred miles.”
“And that sea is——?”
“Smith’s Sound,” was the reply.
“The same that we could not get through last April?”
“The same.”
“Well, captain, now we know our actual situation, we are in a better position to determine our course of action.”
“Speak your minds, then,” said Hatteras, again burying his head in his hands.
“What do you say, Bell?” asked the Doctor.
“It strikes me the case doesn’t need long thinking over,” said the carpenter. “We must get back at once without losing a single day or even a single hour, either to the south or west, and make our way to the nearest coast, even if we are two months doing it!”
“We have only food for three weeks,” replied Hatteras, without raising his head.
“Very well,” said Johnson, “we must make the journey in three weeks, since it is our last chance. Even if we can only crawl on our knees before we get to our destination, we must be there in twenty-five days.”
“This part of the Arctic Continent is unexplored. We may have to encounter difficulties. Mountains and glaciers may bar our progress,” objected Hatteras.
“I don’t see that’s any sufficient reason for not attempting it. We shall have to endure sufferings, no doubt, and perhaps many. We shall have to limit ourselves to the barest quantities of food, unless our guns should procure us anything.”
“There is only about half a pound of powder left,” said Hatteras.
“Come now, Hatteras, I know the full weight of your objections, and I am not deluding myself with vain hopes. But I think I can read your motive. Have you any practical suggestion to offer?”
“No,” said Hatteras, after a little hesitation.
“You don’t doubt our courage,” continued the Doctor. “We would follow you to the last—you know that. But must we not, meantime, give up all hope of reaching the Pole? Your plans have been defeated by treachery. Natural difficulties you might have overcome, but you have been outmatched by perfidy and human weakness. You have done all that man could do, and you would have succeeded I am certain; but situated as we are now, are you not obliged to relinquish your projects for the present, and is not a return to England even positively necessary before you could continue them?”
“Well, captain?” asked Johnson after waiting a considerable time for Hatteras to reply.
Thus interrogated, he raised his head, and said in a constrained tone—
“You think yourselves quite certain then of reaching the Sound, exhausted though you are, and almost without food?”
“No,” replied the Doctor, “but there is one thing certain, the Sound won’t come to us, we must go to it. We may chance to find some Esquimaux tribes further south.”
“Besides, isn’t there the chance of falling in with some ship that is wintering here?” asked Johnson.
“Even supposing the Sound is blocked up, couldn’t we get across to some Greenland or Danish settlement? At any rate, Hatteras, we can get nothing by remaining here. The route to England is towards the south, not the north.”
“Yes,” said Bell, “Mr. Clawbonny is right. We must start, and start at once. We have been forgetting our country too long already.”
“Is this your advice, Johnson?” asked Hatteras again.
“Yes, captain.”
“And yours, Doctor?”
“Yes, Hatteras.”
Hatteras remained silent, but his face, in spite of himself, betrayed his inward agitation. The issue of his whole life hung on the decision he had to make, for he felt that to return to England was to lose all! He could not venture on a fourth expedition.
The Doctor finding he did not reply, added—
“I ought also to have said, that there is not a moment to lose. The sledge must be loaded with the provisions at once, and as much wood as possible. I must confess six hundred miles is a long journey, but we can, or rather we must make twenty miles a day, which will bring us to the coast about the 26th of March.”
“But cannot we wait a few days yet?” said Hatteras.
“What are you hoping for?” asked Johnson.
“I don’t know. Who can tell the future? It is necessary, too, that you should get your strength a little recruited. You might sink down on the road with fatigue, without even a snow hut to shelter you.”
“But think of the terrible death that awaits us here,” replied the carpenter.
“My friends,” said Hatteras, in almost supplicating tones; “you are despairing too soon. I should propose that we should seek our deliverance towards the north, but you would refuse to follow me, and yet why should there not be Esquimaux tribes round about the Pole as well as towards the south? The open sea, of the existence of which we are certified, must wash the shores of continents. Nature is logical in all her doings. Consequently vegetation must be found there when the earth is no longer ice-bound. Is there not a promised land awaiting us in the north from which you would flee?”
Hatteras became animated as he spoke, and Doctor Clawbonny’s excitable nature was so wrought upon that his decision began to waver. He was on the point of yielding, when Johnson, with his wiser head and calmer temperament, recalled him to reason and duty by calling out—
“Come, Bell, let us be off to the sledge.”
“All right,” said Bell, and the two had risen to leave the hut, when Hatteras exclaimed—
“Oh, Johnson! You! you! Well, go! I shall stay, I shall stay!”
“Captain!” said Johnson, stopping in spite of himself.
“I shall stay, I tell you. Go! Leave me like the rest! Come, Duk, you and I will stay together.”
The faithful dog barked as if he understood, and settled himself down beside his master. Johnson looked at the Doctor, who seemed at a loss to know what to do, but came to the conclusion at last that the best way, meantime, was to calm Hatteras, even at the sacrifice of a day. He was just about to try the force of his eloquence in this direction, when he felt a light touch on his arm, and turning round saw Altamont who had crawled out of bed and managed to get on his knees. He was trying to speak, but his swollen lips could scarcely make a sound. Hatteras went towards him, and watched his efforts to articulate so attentively that in a few minutes he made out a word that sounded like Porpoise, and stooping over him he asked—
“Is it the Porpoise?”
Altamont made a sign in the affirmative, and Hatteras went on with his queries, now that he had found a clue.
“In these seas?”
The affirmative gesture was repeated.
“Is she in the north?”
“Yes.”
“Do you know her position?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly?”
“Yes.”
For a minute or so, nothing more was said, and the onlookers waited with palpitating hearts.
Then Hatteras spoke again and said—
“Listen to me. We must know the exact position of your vessel. I will count the degrees aloud, and you; will stop me when I come to the right one.”
The American assented by a motion of the head, and Hatteras began—
“We’ll take the longitude first. 105°, No? 106°, 107°? It is to the west, I suppose?”
“Yes,” replied Altamont.
“Let us go on, then: 109°, 110°, 112°, 114°, 116°, 118°, 120°.”
“Yes,” interrupted the sick man.
“120° of longitude, and how many minutes? I will count.”
Hatteras began at number one, and when he got to fifteen, Altamont made a sign to stop.
“Very good,” said Hatteras; “now for the latitude. Are you listening? 80°, 81°, 82°, 83°.”
Again the sign to stop was made.
“Now for the minutes: 5’, 10’, 15’, 20’, 25’, 30’, 35’.”
Altamont stopped him once more, and smiled feebly.
“You say, then, that the Porpoise is in longitude 120° 15’, and latitude 83° 35’?”
“Yes,” sighed the American, and fell back motionless in the Doctor’s arms, completely overpowered by the effort he had made.
“Friends!” exclaimed Hatteras; “you see I was right. Our salvation lies indeed in the north, always in the north. We shall be saved!”
But the joyous, exulting words had hardly escaped his lips before a sudden thought made his countenance change. The serpent of jealousy had stung him, for this stranger was an American, and he had reached three degrees nearer the Pole than the ill-fated Forward.
CHAPTER III. A SEVENTEEN DAYS’ MARCH.
THESE FIRST WORDS OF ALTAMONT had completely changed the whole aspect of affairs, but his communication was still incomplete, and, after giving him a little time to rest, the Doctor undertook the task of conversing again with him, putting his questions in such a form that a movement of the head or eyes would be a sufficient answer.
He soon ascertained that the Porpoise was a three-mast American ship, from New York, wrecked on the ice, with provisions and combustibles in abundance still on board, and that, though she had been thrown on her side, she had not gone to pieces, and there was every chance of saving her cargo.
