CHAPTER XXVII.CONCLUSION.
Why linger over the perpetual sufferings of the survivors? Theythemselves could never recall to their memory a clear vision of whathad happened in the week after their horrible discovery of the remainsof the crew. However, September 9th, by a miracle of energy, theyreached Cape Horsburgh, at the end of North Devon.
They were dying of hunger; they had not eaten for forty-eight hours,and their last meal had been the flesh of their last Esquimaux dog.Bell could go no farther, and old Johnson felt ready to die. They wereon the shore of Baffin's Bay, on the way to Europe. Three miles fromland the waves were breaking on the edges of the ice-field. They hadto await the uncertain passage of a whaler, and how many days yet?
But Heaven took pity on them, for the next day Altamont clearly saw asail. The anguish which follows such an appearance of a sail, thetortures of disappointment, are well known. The ship seemed toapproach and then to recede. Terrible are the alternations of hope anddespair, and too often at the moment the castaways consider themselvessaved the sail sinks beneath the horizon.
The doctor and his companions went through all these emotions; theyhad reached the western limit of the ice-field, and yet they saw theship disappear, taking no note of their presence. They shouted, but invain.
Then the doctor had a last inspiration of that busy mind which hadserved him in such good stead.
A floe had drifted against the ice-field.
"That floe!" he said, pointing to it.
They did not catch his meaning.
"Let us get on it!" he cried.
They saw his plan at once.
"Ah, Clawbonny, Dr. Clawbonny!" cried Johnson, kissing the doctor'shands.
Bell, with Altamont's aid, ran to the sledge; he brought one of theuprights, stood it up on the floe for a mast, making it fast withropes; the tent was torn up for a sail. The wind was fair; the poorcastaways put out to sea on this frail raft.
Two hours later, after unheard-of efforts, the last men of the_Forward_ were taken aboard the Danish whaler _Hans Christian_, whichwas sailing to Davis Strait. The captain received kindly thesespectres who had lost their semblance to human beings; when he sawtheir sufferings he understood their history; he gave them everyattention, and managed to save their lives. Ten days later, Clawbonny,Johnson, Bell, Altamont, and Captain Hatteras landed at Korsoeur, inZeeland, in Denmark; a steamboat carried them to Kiel; thence, _via_Altona and Hamburg, they reached London the 13th of the same month,hardly recovered from their long sufferings.
"Two hours later, after unheard-of efforts, the lastmen of the _Forward_ were taken aboard the Danish whaler _HansChristian_."]
"A steamboat carried them to Kiel."]
The first thought of the doctor was to ask permission of the RoyalGeographical Society of London to lay a communication before it; hewas admitted to the meeting of July 15th. The astonishment of thelearned assembly, and its enthusiastic cheers after reading Hatteras'sdocument, may be imagined.
This journey, the only one of its kind, went over all the discoveriesthat had been made in the regions about the Pole; it brought togetherthe expeditions of Parry, Ross, Franklin, MacClure; it completed thechart between the one hundredth and one hundred and fifteenthmeridians; and, finally, it ended with the point of the globe hithertoinaccessible, with the Pole itself.
Never had news so unexpected burst upon astonished England.
The English take great interest in geographical facts; they are proudof them, lord and cockney, from the merchant prince to the workman inthe docks.
The news of this great discovery was telegraphed over the UnitedKingdom with great rapidity; the papers printed the name of Hatterasat the head of their columns as that of a martyr, and England glowedwith pride.
The doctor and his companions were feasted everywhere; they wereformally presented to her Majesty by the Lord High Chancellor.
The government confirmed the name of Queen's Island for the rock atthe North Pole, of Mount Hatteras for the mountain itself, and ofAltamont Harbor for the port in New America.
Altamont did not part from those whose misery and glory he had shared,and who were now his friends. He followed the doctor, Johnson, andBell to Liverpool, where they were warmly received, after they hadbeen thought to be long dead, and buried in the eternal ice.
But Dr. Clawbonny always gave the glory to the man who most deservedit. In his account of the journey entitled "The English at the NorthPole," published the next year by the Royal Geographical Society, hemade John Hatteras equal to the greatest explorers, the rival of thosebold men who sacrifice everything to science.
But the sad victim of a lofty passion lived peacefully at the asylumof Starr Cottage near Liverpool, where the doctor had placed him. Hismadness was of a gentle kind, but he never spoke, he understoodnothing, his power of speech seemed to have gone with his reason. Asingle feeling seemed to unite him to the outer world, his love forDuke, who was not separated from him.
This disease, this "polar madness," pursued its course quietly,presenting no particular symptom, when Dr. Clawbonny, who oftenvisited his poor patient, was struck by his singular manner.
For some time Captain Hatteras, followed by his faithful dog, thatused to gaze at him sadly, would walk for hours every day; but healways walked in one way, in the direction of a certain path. When hehad reached the end, he would return, walking backwards. If any onestopped him, he would point his finger at a portion of the sky. If anyone tried to make him turn round, he grew angry, and Duke would showhis anger and bark furiously.
The doctor observed carefully this odd mania; he understood the motiveof this strange obstinacy; he guessed the reason of this walk alwaysin the same direction, and, so to speak, under the influence of amagnetic force.
Captain John Hatteras was always walking towards the north.
FINIS.
University Press, Cambridge: Printed by Welch, Bigelow, & Co.