The sailor on watch opened the
outer door. There, plodding over
the ghastly white snow, were
the officers of the _Wanderer_
approaching the hut. There, scattered
under the merciless black sky,
were the crew, with the dogs
and the sledges, waiting the
word which was to start them
on their perilous and doubtful
journey.
Captain Helding of the _Wanderer_,
accompanied by his officers,
entered the hut, in high spirits
at the prospect of a change.
Behind them, lounging in slowly
by himself, was a dark, sullen,
heavy-browed man. He neither
spoke, nor offered his hand to
anybody: he was the one person
present who seemed to be perfectly
indifferent to the fate in store
for him. This was the man whom
his brother officers had nicknamed
the Bear of the Expedition. In
other words--Richard Wardour.
Crayford advanced to welcome
Captain Helding. Frank, remembering
the friendly reproof which he
had just received, passed ov
er the other officers of the
_Wanderer_, and made a special
effort to be civil to Crayford's
friend.
"Good-morning, Mr. Wardour," he
said. "We may congratulate each
other on the chance of leaving
this horrible place."
"_You_ may think it horrible," Wardour
retorted; "I like it."
"Like it? Good
Heavens! why?"
"Because there
are no women here."
Frank turned to his brother
officers, without making any
further advances in the direction
of Richard Wardour. The Bear
of the Expedition was more unapproachable
than ever.
In the meantime, the hut had
become thronged by the able-bodied
officers and men of the two ships.
Captain Helding, standing in
the midst of them, with Crayford
by his side, proceeded to explain
the purpose of the contemplated
expedition to the audience which
surrounded him.
He began in these words:
"Brother officers
and men of the _Wanderer_ and
_Sea-mew_,
it is my duty to tell you, very
briefly, the reasons which have
decided Captain Ebsworth and
myself on dispatching an exploring
party in search of help. Without
recalling all the hardships we
have suffered for the last two
years--the destruction, first
of one of our ships, then of
the other; the death of some
of our bravest and best companions;
the vain battles we have been
fighting with the ice and snow,
and boundless desolation of these
inhospitable regions--without
dwelling on these things, it
is my duty to remind you that
this, the last place in which
we have taken refuge, is far
beyond the track of any previous
expedition, and that consequently
our chance of being discovered
by any rescuing parties that
may be sent to look after us
is, to say the least of it, a
chance of the most uncertain
kind. You all agree with me,
gentlemen, so far?"
The officers (with the exception
of Wardour, who stood apart in
sullen silence) all agreed, so
far.
The captain went on.
"It is therefore
urgently necessary that we
should make another,
and probably a last, effort to
extricate ourselves. The winter
is not far off, game is getting
scarcer and scarcer, our stock
of provisions is running low,
and the sick--especially, I am
sorry to say, the sick in the
_Wanderer_'s hut--are increasing
in number day by day. We must
look to our own lives, and to
the lives of those who are dependent
on us; and we have no time to
lose."
The officers echoed the words
cheerfully.
"Right! right!
No time to lose."
Captain Helding resumed:
"The plan proposed
is, that a detachment of the
able-bodied
officers and men among us should
set forth this very day, and
make another effort to reach
the nearest inhabited settlements,
from which help and provisions
may be dispatched to those who
remain here. The new direction
to be taken, and the various
precautions to be adopted, are
all drawn out ready. The only
question now before us is, Who
is to stop here, and who is to
undertake the journey?"
The officers
answered the question with
one accord--"Volunteers!"
The men echoed
their officers. "Ay,
ay, volunteers."
Wardour still preserved his
sullen silence. Crayford noticed
him. standing apart from the
rest, and appealed to him personally.
"Do you say nothing?" he
asked.
"Nothing," Wardour answered. "Go
or stay, it's all one to me."
"I hope you don't really mean
that?" said Crayford.
"I do."
"I am sorry
to hear it, Wardour."
Captain Helding answered the
general suggestion in favor of
volunteering by a question which
instantly checked the rising
enthusiasm of the meeting.
"Well," he said, "suppose
we say volunteers. Who volunteers
to stop in the huts?"
There was a dead silence. The
officers and men looked at each
other confusedly. The captain
continued:
"You see we
can't settle it by volunteering.
You all want
to go. Every man among us who
has the use of his limbs naturally
wants to go. But what is to become
of those who have not got the
use of their limbs? Some of us
must stay here, and take care
of the sick."
Everybody admitted that this
was true.
"So we get back again," said
the captain, "to the old question--Who
among the able-bodied is to go?
and who is to stay? Captain Ebsworth
says, and I say, let chance decide
it. Here are dice. The numbers
run as high as twelve--double
sixes. All who throw under six,
stay; all who throw over six,
go. Officers of the _Wanderer_
and the _Sea-mew_, do you agree
to that way of meeting the difficulty?"
All the officers agreed, with
the one exception of Wardour,
who still kept silence.
"Men of the
_Wanderer_ and _Sea-mew_, your
officers agree
to cast lots. Do you agree too?"
The men agreed without a dissentient
voice. Crayford handed the box
and the dice to Captain Helding.
"You throw
first, sir. Under six, 'Stay.'
Over six, 'Go.'"
Captain Helding cast the dice;
the top of the cask serving for
a table. He threw seven.
"Go," said Crayford. "I congratulate
you, sir. Now for my own chance." He
cast the dice in his turn. Three!" Stay!
Ah, well! well! if I can do my
duty, and be of use to others,
what does it matter whether I
go or stay? Wardour, you are
next, in the absence of your
first lieutenant."
Wardour prepared to cast, without
shaking the dice.
"Shake the box, man!" cried
Crayford. "Give yourself a chance
of luck!"
Wardour persisted in letting
the dice fall out carelessly,
just as they lay in the box.
"Not I!" he muttered to himself. "I've
done with luck." Saying those
words, he threw down the empty
box, and seated himself on the
nearest chest, without looking
to see how the dice had fallen.
Crayford examined
them. "Six!" he
exclaimed. "There! you have a
second chance, in spite of yourself.
You are neither under nor over--you
throw again."
"Bah!" growled the Bear. "It's
not worth the trouble of getting
up for. Somebody else throw for
me." He suddenly looked at Frank. "You!
you have got what the women call
a lucky face."
Frank appealed
to Crayford. "Shall
I?"
"Yes, if he wishes it," said
Crayford.
Frank cast
the dice. "Two!
He stays! Wardour, I am sorry
I have thrown against you."
"Go or stay," reiterated Wardour, "it's
all one to me. You will be luckier,
young one, when you cast for
yourself."
Frank cast for himself.
"Eight. Hurrah!
I go!"
"What did I tell you?" said
Wardour. "The chance was yours.
You have thriven on my ill luck."
He rose, as he spoke, to leave
the hut. Crayford stopped him.
"Have you anything
particular to do, Richard?"
"What has anybody
to do here?"
"Wait a little,
then. I want to speak to you
when this business
is over."
"Are you going
to give me any more good advice?"
"Don't look
at me in that sour way, Richard.
I am going to ask
you a question about something
which concerns yourself."
Wardour yielded
without a word more. He returned
to his chest,
and cynically composed himself
to slumber. The casting of the
lots went on rapidly among the
officers and men. In another
half-hour chance had decided
the question of "Go" or "Stay" for
all alike. The men left the hut.
The officers entered the inner
apartment for a last conference
with the bed-ridden captain of
the _Sea-mew_. Wardour and Crayford
were left together, alone.
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