Sailing south—The wind ceases—Our coal exhausted—Drifting on an unknown ocean—In the grasp of southbound currents—Desponding—Visited by an airship—Then a whole fleet—Among friends—A most highly cultivated people—We embark for Altruria—An air voyage.
S we again proceeded south, the weather became more and more spring-like and the air more invigorating. The climate seemed to have opposite effects on different temperaments. The more delicate and refined were stimulated to greater vigor and endurance, while the most powerful physically were stricken with a fever, attended by acute pains. This reduced our small crew to a point where we were helpless. Our coal was also exhausted. The light breezes which had enabled us to utilize the sails, now ceased entirely and we lay becalmed.
For weeks the Ice King lay idly on the bosom of this most placid ocean. So monotonous it became that even an Arctic gale would have been a most agreeable diversion, by enabling us to move. With a supply of fuel our chances of finding land would have been increased manifold. We could have made some headway, notwithstanding the fact that we had at this time only five persons able to render any efficient service. These were Captain Ganoe, Battell, Huston, Mike Gallagher and myself. Pat O'Brien and the two Norwegians, Lief and Eric, were scarcely able to move around and the three sailors that had been left with us by Battell while exploring the ice-field because they were not able to stand the exposure, were now utterly helpless, and not expected to live from hour to hour.
We had plenty of provisions for an indefinite period, and when these were exhausted, the sea would furnish an unlimited supply of fish. Our vessel was seaworthy and there was seemingly no possible danger of a storm. And yet our condition was most depressing. The ocean currents were drifting us slowly along towards the south and might eventually bring us to land. But this hope, at best, was only a bare possibility. These same currents might carry us into the ice-fields at the south pole which in our present disabled condition, meant almost certain destruction.
We dropped bottles into the sea containing dispatches, stating our condition, and describing our location as nearly as possible. But the chances were that these would never reach a people who would understand their purport, and be able and willing to offer us any assistance. All these considerations, added to the sickness of our most sturdy seamen, had a most depressing effect, and every hour the outlook became more hopeless.
With these gloomy forebodings, I had become discouraged indeed. I am naturally hopeful, but now all hope seemed to be gone. As I look back to this period I regard it as certainly the darkest of my life.