The Sea Lions; Or, The Lost Sealers

by James Fenimore Cooper

There was not a man among the Oyster Ponders who did not, just at that moment, feel his whole being concentrated in that one desire to obtain warmth. The cold had slowly, but surely, insinuated itself among their garments, and slight chills were now felt even by Roswell, whose frame had been most wonderfully sustained that night, through the force of moral feeling. Stimson was the individual who was put forward at the camboose, others holding the lamps, canvass saturated with oil, and some prepared paper. It was found to be perceptibly warmer within the cabin, with its doors closed, and the external coverings of sails, &c., that had been made to exclude the air, than without; nevertheless, when Roswell glanced at a thermometer that was hanging against the bulk-head, he saw that all the mercury was still in the ball!

The interest with which our party now watched the proceedings of Stephen, had much of that intensity that is known to attend any exhibition of vital importance. Life and death were, however, to be dependent on the issue; and the manner in which every eye was turned on the wood, and Stephen's mode of dealing with it, denoted how completely the dread of freezing had got possession of the minds of even these robust and generous men. Roswell alone ventured, for a single moment, to look around the cabin. Three of the Vineyarders only were visible in it; though it struck him that others lay in the berths, under piles of clothes. Of the three who were up, one was so near the lamp he held in his hand, that its light illumined his face, and all that could be seen of a form enveloped in skins. This man sat leaning against a transom. His eyes were open, and glared on the party around the camboose; the lips were slightly parted, and, at first, Roswell expected to hear him speak. The immovable features, rigid muscles, and wild expression of the eyeballs, however, soon told him the melancholy truth. The man was dead. The current of life had actually frozen at his heart. Shuddering, as much with horror as with a sharp chill that just then passed through his own stout frame, our young master turned anxiously to note the success of Stimson, in getting the wood of the camboose in a blaze.

Every one, in the least accustomed to a very severe climate, must have had frequent occasions to observe the reluctance with which all sorts of fuel burn, in exceedingly cold weather. The billet of wood that shall blaze merrily, on a mild day, moulders and simmers, and seems indisposed to give out any heat at all, with the thermometer at zero. In a word, all inanimate substances that contain the elements of caloric appear to sympathize with the prevailing state of the atmosphere, and to contribute to render that which is already too cold for comfort, even colder. So it was now; notwithstanding the preparations that had been made. Baffled twice in his expectations of procuring a blaze, Stephen stopped and took a drink of the hot coffee. As he swallowed the beverage, it struck him that it was fast losing its warmth.

A considerable collection of canvass, saturated with oil, was now put beneath the pile, in the midst of splinters of pine, and one of the lamps was forced into the centre of the combustibles. This expedient succeeded; the frosts were slowly chased out of the kindling materials; a sickly but gradually increasing flame strove through the kindling stuff and soon began to play among the billets of the oak, the only fuel that could be relied on for available heat. Still there was great danger that the lighter wood would all be consumed ere this main dependence could be aroused from its dull inactivity. Frost appeared to be in possession of the whole pile; and it was expelled so slowly, clung to its dominion with so much power, as really to render the result doubtful, for a moment or two. Fortunately, there was found a pair of bellows; and by means of a judicious use of this very useful implement, the oak wood was got into a bright blaze, and warmth began to be given out from the fire. Then came the shiverings and chills, with which intense cold consents even to abandon the human frame; and, by their number and force, Roswell was made to understand how near he and his companions had been to death. As the young man saw the fire slowly kindle to a cheerful blaze, a glow of gratitude flowed towards his heart, and mentally he returned thanks to God. The cabin was so small, had been made so tight by artificial means, and the camboose was so large, that a sensible influence was produced on the temperature, as soon as the wood began to burn a little freely. As none of the heat was lost, the effect was not only apparent, but most grateful, Roswell had looked into the vessels of the camboose while the fire was gathering head. One, the largest, was filled, or nearly so, with coffee frozen to a solid mass! In the other, beef and pork had been set over to boil, and there the pieces now were, embedded in ice, and frozen to blocks. It was when these two distinct masses of ice began to melt, that it was known the fire was beginning to prevail, and hope revived in the bosoms of the Oyster Ponders. On taking another look at the thermometer, it was found that the mercury had so far expanded as to be leaving the ball. It soon after ascended so high as to denote only forty degrees below zero!

Every thing, even to life, depending on maintaining and increasing the power of the fire, the men now looked about them for more fuel. There was an ample stock in the cabin, however, the fire having become extinguished, not for want of wood, but in the usual way. It were needless to describe the manner in which those who stood around the stove watched the flames, or how profound was their satisfaction when they saw that Stimson had finally succeeded.

"God be praised for this and for all his mercies!" exclaimed Stephen, laying aside the bellows, at last. "I can feel warmth from the fire, and that will save such of us as have not yet been taken away." He then lifted the lids, and looked into the different vessels that were on. The ice was melting fast, and the steams of coffee became apparent to the senses. It was at this instant that a feeble voice was heard issuing from beneath the coverings of a berth.

"Gar'ner," it said, imploringly, "if you have any feelin' for a fellow-creatur' in distress, warm me up with one swallow of that coffee! Oh! how pleasantly it smells, and how good it must be for the stomach! For three days have I tasted nothing--not even water."

This was Daggett, the long-tried sealer; the man of iron nerves and golden longings; he who had so lately concentrated within himself all that was necessary to form a pertinacious, resolute, and grasping seeker after gain. How changed, now, in all this! He asked for the means of preserving life, and thought no more of skins, and oils, and treasures on desert keys.

Roswell was no sooner apprised of the situation of his brother-master, than he bestowed the necessary care on his wants. Fortunately, the coffee brought by the Oyster Ponders, and which retained some of its original warmth, had been set before the fire, and was now as hot as the human stomach could bear it. Two or three swallows of this grateful fluid were given to Daggett, and his voice; almost instantaneously showed the effect they produced.

"I'm in a bad way, Garner," resumed the vineyard-master; "I fear we're all in a bad way, that are here. I held out ag'in the cold as long as human natur' could bear it, but was forced to give in at last."