Penellan, much disturbed by the bad success of the expedition, was sleeping restlessly, when, at a waking moment, his attention was attracted by a dull rumbling. He listened attentively, and the rumbling seemed so strange that he nudged Jean Cornbutte with his elbow.
“What is that?” said the latter, whose mind, according to a sailor’s habit, was awake as soon as his body.
“Listen, captain.”
The noise increased, with perceptible violence.
“It cannot be thunder, in so high a latitude,” said Cornbutte, rising.
“I think we have come across some white bears,” replied Penellan.
“The devil! We have not seen any yet.”
“Sooner or later, we must have expected a visit from them. Let us give them a good reception.”
Penellan, armed with a gun, lightly crossed the ledge which sheltered them. The darkness was very dense; he could discover nothing; but a new incident soon showed him that the cause of the noise did not proceed from around them.
Jean Cornbutte rejoined him, and they observed with terror that this rumbling, which awakened their companions, came from beneath them.