André Vasling must have hated Louis Cornbutte bitterly not to extend his hand to him, but he did not.
Pierre Nouquet was wild with joy. He embraced every body; then he threw some wood into the stove, and soon a comfortable temperature was felt in the cabin.
There were two men there whom neither Jean Cornbutte nor Penellan recognized.
They were Jocki and Herming, the only two sailors of the crew of the Norwegian schooner who were left.
“My friends, we are saved!” said Louis. “My father! Marie! You have exposed yourselves to so many perils!”
“We do not regret it, my Louis,” replied the father. “Your brig, the ‘Jeune-Hardie,’ is securely anchored in the ice sixty leagues from here. We will rejoin her all together.”
“When Courtois comes back he’ll be mightily pleased,” said Pierre Nouquet.
A mournful silence followed this, and Penellan apprised Pierre and Louis of their comrade’s death by cold.
“My friends,” said Penellan, “we will wait here until the cold decreases. Have you provisions and wood?”
“Yes; and we will burn what is left of the ‘Froöern.’”