Steve slept soundly that night, and woke to find the blanket, pulled up close to his ears, stiff with hoar-frost, and the stinging, prickling sensation in his nostrils more acute than ever. There was no time spent in dressing, and all were soon ready for the breakfast brought in by the cook, who was loud in complaints about the way in which everything froze in the galley, even when the fire was roaring in the stove. But he was pretty cheerful, for he was a busy man with certain daily duties, whereas tasks had to be made for the men, who, on account of the intense cold and the solitary safety of their position, were not now even set to keep any of the regular watches.
As soon as breakfast was despatched by lamplight, a start was made to see if the bear was anywhere near; and as the canvas door was opened with some difficulty, they stepped out into the semi-darkness to make for the other side of the vessel, about a hundred yards from which a hummock could be seen lying through the rising mist; and upon their approaching it the footsteps of the bear could be plainly traced in company with spots of blood, showing that the animal must have been seriously wounded.
“He staggered and went down here,” said Johannes, pointing to unmistakable marks; and then, as the back of the animal stood up white as the snow around, Johannes began to trot forward.
“Don’t do that!” cried Steve excitedly. “Let them go first with the guns.”
“No fear, sir; he’s frozen stiff.”
So it proved, but a horrifying sight presented itself; for there were footprints about, which the Norseman pointed out as belonging to three more bears, a large and two small ones, which had been devouring the one that had been shot, and now lay, partially eaten, in the snow.
“Ugh! the cannibals!” exclaimed Steve, turning away in disgust.
“Will they come back to the feast?” said the doctor. “They may, sir; but I think not. They have gorged themselves, and will have gone back to the cave they occupy, perhaps to go to sleep for a couple of months. I think they lie up during the very coldest weather, and I should say it was cold enough for that. Besides, this carcass is a mass of ice now.—It is very cold.”
“Yes, and dark enough for anything.” But as the days—they could hardly be called days—glided by the last gleams of a dim twilight died out, till in the clearest times there was nothing but a faint dawn to be seen at twelve o’clock, where they had seen the rim of the sun for the last time, and the cold was intense, beyond anything they could have imagined. When the men were crowded together in the forecastle their breath rose in a thick mist, and Watty murmured bitterly to Steve about it, for he said it was a shame that the deck was not freshly cleaned.
“A’ through snaw-storm last neet,” he said, “the snaw came tumm’ling doon upo’ our bets till she was a’ wet.”