# Works of Jules Verne/Adventures of Captain Hatteras/The English at the North Pole/Chapter 26

CHAPTER XXVI CHRISTMAS
For a moment despair gained the upper hand, and death seemed staring the unhappy crew in the face—death from cold. The fire got lower each moment, and the effect was soon felt on the temperature of the room. Johnson went to fetch some of his new combustible, and filled the stove with it, adding tow impregnated with frozen oil, which speedily gave out abundant heat. True, the stench was unbearable, and the boatswain was sufficiently convinced that his substitute for coal would find no favor in the middle-class houses of Liverpool. But what was to be done? It was this fat or nothing.
"And yet," said Johnson, "this stinking stuff may bring us some good after all."
"How's that?" asked the carpenter.
"It will be sure to attract the bears. They will think it a most savory odor."
"Well, but I don't see what we want with bears," replied Bell.
"Friend Bell," returned Johnson, "we can't reckon on any more seals; they have taken their departure for a long time, and if the bears don't furnish their share of combustible material, I don't see what is to become of us."
"You are right, Johnson. We are in a perilous situation—it is frightful to think of it. Only suppose our stock of this fat coming to an end! I see no way, I must confess!"
"Except one."
"And what is that?" asked Bell.
​"Except one, Bell, but the captain would never consent to it; and yet it may come to that," added Johnson, shaking his head, for he knew he had only fat enough to last a week.
The old sailor was right. Several bears were seen to leeward, and the few men that remained well gave them chase. But these animals are endowed with such remarkable swiftness and such cunning, that they completely baffle their pursuers. It was found impossible to get near them, and not a single ball took effect, even fired by the best shots.
The crew of the brig were certainly in a serious plight. Forty-eight hours without fire in such a temperature would seal their doom.
At last, on the 20th of December, about 3 P. M., things came to a crisis. The fire burnt out, and the sailors stood around the stove gazing at each other with wild, haggard faces. Hatteras remained motionless in his corner. The Doctor paced up and down in an agitated manner, at his wits' end to devise some expedient, not knowing what to say or do.
But others acted for him now. Shandon, cool and determined, and Pen with flashing angry eyes, and two or three of their comrades who were still able to drag themselves along, went towards Hatteras.
"Captain," said Shandon.
But Hatteras, buried in thought, did not hear him.
"Captain!" he said again, touching his hand.
"Sir!" said Hatteras, starting up.
"Captain, we have no fire."
"Well," replied Hatteras.
"If it is your intention to let us perish with cold," said Shandon with terrible irony, "perhaps you will be kind enough to inform us."
"My intention," replied Hatteras in a grave tone, "is that each man shall do his duty to the end."
"There is something higher than duty, captain—the right of self-preservation. I tell you again we have no fire, and if we don't get one, not a man among us will be alive in two days' time."
"I have no wood," said Hatteras in a hollow voice.
"Very well," exclaimed Pen, passionately; "when people have no wood, they must go and cut it down where it grows."
​Hatteras paled with rage, and said:
"Where may that be?"
"On deck," was the insolent reply.
"On deck!" repeated the captain, clenching his fist, his eyes sparkling with indignation.
"Certainly," returned Pen; "when the ship can't sail, burn her."
Hatteras lifted a hatchet when Pen began to speak, and swinging it over his head, would have killed him on the spot, had not the Doctor rushed forward and pulled him aside by main force. The hatchet fell on the ground, sticking fast in the planks.
Johnson, Bell, and Simpson gathered round Hatteras, determined to support his authority, but plaintive moans rose from the sick-beds, and feeble voices were heard imploring fire.
Hatteras had a struggle to command himself sufficiently to speak, but after a few minutes' silence, he said, in a calm tone:
"If we destroyed the ship, how could we get back to England?"
"Perhaps, sir, we might burn those parts that are not absolutely necessary, such as the gunwale," suggested Johnson. "We should always have the boats to fall back upon," said Shandon; "and, moreover, what is there to hinder us from building a smaller ship out of the remains of the old one?"
"Never!" replied Hatteras.
"But, sir———" began several voices at once.
"We have a great quantity of spirits of wine on board," said Hatteras. "Burn it all to the last drop."
"Well, go and fetch the spirits of wine, my men," said Johnson.
By steeping large wicks in this inflammable liquid a pale flame was soon visible in the stove, and the temperature of the room was raised a little.
During the next few days the wind was south, and the thermometer rose a few degree. Some of the sailors ventured out again for a few hours, but ophthalmia and scurvy kept the greater part on board still close prisoners.
But the respite was of short duration, and on the 25th the mercury was again frozen in the tube.
​By means of spirits of wine, however, the Doctor managed to thaw it, and discovered to his horror that the temperature was 66° below zero. He had not thought it possible that life could be sustained in such conditions.
The ice lay glittering on the flooring, and a thick fog filled the room, mingled with the snow caused by the condensation of the breath of the inmates. The men could hardly see one another; hands and feet had become almost dead and quite blue. The first symptoms of delirium appeared, and the tongue lost the power of articulation.
From the day that Pen had threatened to burn the ship, Hatteras had almost lived on deck, remaining on the bridge for long hours mounting guard over his treasure: for this wood was like his own flesh, and he would as soon have thought of cutting off a limb as cutting off an inch of it. There he stood, completely armed, and wholly insensible to cold and snow, though the frost had stiffened his clothes, and encased him in an icy covering. Duk always accompanied him, barking and howling.
On the 25th of December, however, he went below for a while, and the Doctor, summoning all his remaining strength, went up to him directly and said:
"Hatteras, we are dying for want of fire."
"Never!" said Hatteras, understanding the unuttered request that lay in his words.
"It must be done," replied the Doctor, gently.
"Never!" repeated Captain Hatteras even more vehemently; "never will I consent. Let them disobey if they choose!"
Johnson and Bell needed no further permission, but rushed on deck, hatchets in hand. Hatteras heard the wood falling beneath their strokes, and wept.
And this was Christmas Day, so dear to English hearts! the day of family gatherings, when children and children's children cluster so joyously about the fireside. What a bitter contrast this to those festive hours, ringing with the glad laugh of merry children round their Christmas tree! to those tables groaning with the abundance of roast beef and plum-pudding, and mince pies, and all the rich Christmas viands! Nothing here on all sides but pain, and misery, and despair; nothing of Christmas, save the "Yule log," and this—part of a lost ship, lost amid the ice and snow of the frigid zone.
​However, the fire soon made its reanimating influence felt, and steaming bowls of tea and coffee lent their aid in restoring the benumbed men to some degree of physical comfort, and even revived the dying hope in their hearts.
The 1st of January was marked by an unexpected discovery. The weather was mild, and the Doctor had resumed his usual studies. He was reading Sir Edward Belcher's "Narrative of his Polar Expedition," when he came across a passage he had never noticed before. He read it over and over again, to satisfy himself it was no mistake.
Sir Edward stated that after reaching the end of the Queen's Channel, he met with traces of human habitation on the shore.
"'We found the remains,' he said, 'of dwellings far superior to any of those which would be inhabited by the wandering tribes of Esquimaux. The walls had good foundations, and there was a paved space, covered with fine gravel. We saw a great quantity of bones of reindeer, and walrus, and seals. We found coal there.'"
As the Doctor read these concluding words, an idea crossed his mind, which he determined to communicate to Hatteras forthwith, so, book in hand, he went in search of him.
"Coal, did you say!" exclaimed the captain, when he told him of his discovery.
"Yes, Hatteras, coal! that's to say, our means of salvation."
"But coal on this barren coast," returned Hatteras. No, that's not possible!"
"Why doubt it, Hatteras? Belcher would never have stated the fact if he had not seen it with his own eyes!"
"Well, granting it to be true, what then, Doctor?"
"We are not more than a hundred miles from the place where Belcher saw this coal; and what's an excursion of a hundred miles? Nothing. Much longer journeys have often been made over the ice in quite as cold weather as this. Let us set off, captain."
"We will!" exclaimed Hatteras, clutching eagerly at the forlorn hope.
Johnson was speedily informed of the project, which met his hearty approval. He communicated the news to the rest.
"Let them go," whispered Shandon, mysteriously.
​But before ever commencing preparations for departure, Hatteras took the utmost pains to calculate the exact position of the Forward. This was a matter of the utmost importance, for otherwise it would be impossible to find the ship again after once leaving her. After much difficulty he succeeded in making an accurate reckoning, and went down again to compare it with his chart.
For a minute he looked as if stupefied, and then asked the Doctor if he knew the exact latitude when they had taken up winter quarters.
"Of course I do," was the reply. "It was 78° 15" latitude, and 95° 35" longitude."
"Well, then," returned Hatteras, in a low voice, our ice-field is drifting, we are two degrees farther north, and more to the west, and three hundred miles at least from your coal depot."
"And these poor fellows are not aware of it!" exclaimed the Doctor.
"Hush!" said Hatteras, laying his finger on his lips.
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