Good-by to England! Good-by
to inhabited and civilized regions
of
the earth!
Two years have passed since
the voyagers sailed from their
native shores. The enterprise
has failed--the Arctic expedition
is lost and ice-locked in the
Polar wastes. The good ships
_Wanderer_ and _Sea-mew_, entombed
in ice, will never ride the buoyant
waters more. Stripped of their
lighter timbers, both vessels
have been used for the construction
of huts, erected on the nearest
land.
The largest of the two buildings
which now shelter the lost men
is occupied by the surviving
officers and crew of the _Sea-mew_.
On one side of the principal
room are the sleeping berths
and the fire-place. The other
side discloses a broad doorway
(closed by a canvas screen),
which serves as a means of communication
with an inner apartment, devoted
to the superior officers. A hammock
is slung to the rough raftered
roof of the main room, as an
extra bed. A man, completely
hidden by his bedclothes, is
sleeping in the hammock. By the
fireside there is a second man--supposed
to be on the watch--fast asleep,
poor wretch! at the present moment.
Behind the sleeper stands an
old cask, which serves for a
table. The objects at present
on the table are, a pestle and
mortar, and a saucepanful of
the dry bones of animals--in
plain words, the dinner for the
day. By way of ornament to the
dull brown walls, icicles appear
in the crevices of the timber,
gleaming at intervals in the
red fire-light. No wind whistles
outside the lonely dwelling--no
cry of bird or beast is heard.
Indoors, and out-of-doors, the
awful silence of the Polar desert
reigns, for the moment, undisturbed.
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