fr:Les Aventures du capitaine Hatteras - Première partie - 18
The crew seemed to have returned to their habits of discipline
and obedience. Their duties were slight and infrequent, so that
they had plenty of leisure. The temperature never fell below the
freezing-point, and the thaw removed the greatest obstacles from
their path.
Duke had made friends with Dr. Clawbonny. They got on
admirably together. But as in friendship one friend is always
sacrificed to the other, it must be said that the doctor was not
the other. Duke did with him whatever he pleased. The doctor
obeyed him as a dog obeys his master. Moreover, Duke conducted
himself very amicably with most of the officers and sailors; only, instinctively doubtless, he avoided Shandon; he had, too, a grudge against Pen and Foker; his hatred for them manifested itself in low growls when they came near him. They, for their part, did not dare attack the captain's dog, “his familiar spirit,” as Clifton called him.
In a word, the crew had taken courage again.
“It seems to me,” said James Wall one day to Richard Shandon, “that the men took the captain's words for earnest; they seem to be sure of success.”
“They are mistaken,” answered Shandon; “if they would only
reflect, and consider our condition, they would see we are simply
going from one imprudence to another.”
“Still,” resumed Wall, “we are in a more open sea; we are
going along a well-known route; don't you exaggerate somewhat, Shandon?”
“Not a bit, Wall; the hate and jealousy, if you please, with
which Hatteras inspires me, don't blind my eyes. Say, have you
seen the coal-bunkers lately?”
“No,” answered Wall.
“Well! go below, and you'll see how near we are to the end
of our supply. By right, we ought to be going under sail, and only starting our engine to make headway against currents or contrary winds; our fuel ought to be burned only with the strictest economy, for who can say where and for how long we may be detained? But Hatteras is pushed by this mania of going forward, of reaching the inaccessible Pole, and he does n't care for such a detail. Whether the wind is fair or foul, he goes on under steam; and if he goes on we run a risk of being very much embarrassed, if not lost.”
“Is that so, Shandon? That is serious!”
“You are right, Wall, it is; not only would the engine be of
no use to us if we got into a tight place, but what are we to do
in the winter? We ought to take some precautions against
the cold in a country where the mercury often freezes in the
thermometer.”
“But if I'm not mistaken, Shandon, the captain intends getting
a new supply at Beechey Island; they say there is a great
quantity there.”
“Can any one choose where he'll go in these seas, Wall? Can
one count on finding such or such a channel free of ice? And if
he misses Beechey Island, or can't reach it, what is to become
of us?”
“You are right, Shandon; Hatteras seems to me unwise; but
why don't you say something of this sort to him?”
“No, Wall,” answered Shandon, with ill-disguised bitterness, “I have made up my mind not to say a word; I am not responsible any longer for the ship; I shall await events; if I receive any commands, I obey, and I don't proclaim my opinions.”
“Let me tell you you are wrong, Shandon; for the well-being
of all is at stake, and the captain's imprudence may cost us all
dear.”
“And if I were to speak, Wall, would he listen to me?”
Wall did not dare say he would.
“But,” he added, “he would perhaps listen to remonstrances
of the crew.”
“The crew,” said Shandon, shrugging his shoulders; “but, my
dear Wall, have n't you noticed that they care for everything else
more than for their safety? They know they're getting near latitude
72°, and that a thousand pounds is paid for every degree
of latitude beyond which is reached.”
“You are right, Shandon,” answered Wall, “and the captain
has taken the surest means of securing his men.”
“Without doubt,” answered Shandon; “for the present, at
least.”
“What do you mean?”