“Yes,” he said; “there is the pack, fast for another month, unless we have a storm to break it up. We’ll go on a mile or two, and then turn back. Come along down.”
He began to descend at once, and Steve followed, wondering at his manner, and feeling sad now; for he concluded that, from his experience and knowledge of such matters, the captain felt that they had reached Spitzbergen too late to save their friends alive.
As soon as the deck was reached orders were given to increase the speed a little, Johannes joining the captain on the bridge to keep a careful look-out for danger where there was none, for the water was perfectly clear of rocks and deep right up to the cliffs; so that a quarter of an hour later they were abreast of the cross, a boat was lowered, and Captain Marsham was rowed ashore.
Steve was the first to leap upon the rocks, and then the little party made their way up a slope to the level patch on which stood the rough sign, and, in addition, two more, which had not been perceived till they were close up; while of greater interest still, close under the perpendicular black cliff, some four or five hundred feet high, was a low, square, wooden hut, built up of old ship’s timbers. They made at once for this, leaving the singularly shaped wooden crosses; and once more a feeling of awe crept over Steve, and he whispered to the captain asking him if he thought it was their friends.
“Oh no,” was the quick reply. “Didn’t you understand? The remains of some Russian party. The crosses told that.”
Steve felt relieved, and curiosity had begun to take the place of the shrinking sensation he had felt on seeing that the woodwork was grey and mossy, much of it greatly decayed, and that the rough door had fallen away from its hinges and lay across the opening which it had been used to close. The timbers had been caulked with moss, and no doubt had had snow piled up against them, to keep out the penetrating cold, while the nearly flat roof was covered with stones.
All this was seen almost at a glance as they paused by the door, and then the captain stooped his head and entered the low, cabin-like place, followed by the doctor and Steve.
The place was fairly extensive inside, and fitted up with a long, low, stone bench, upon which lay quantities of dry sea-weed, the whole having evidently been used for the occupants’ bed. In the middle of the hut was an arrangement of stones, with a roughly contrived flue, which had formed a kind of stove for heating and cooking, and in it still lay a quantity of ashes and some charred fragments of oak that must have been bits of ships’ timber.
That was all visible at first; but in the darkest part of the hut, farthest from the door, the low, bench-like erection was piled with sea-weed apparently, till they drew closer and found that there were several mouldy bear-skins, from which the hair had rotted, and which came away in fragments upon being touched.
It was Steve who gave a tug at one of the skins, and, throwing the pieces down, he was about to drag another one right off, when the captain checked him.