Nevertheless, December 25th he went down into the common-room. The doctor, with all the energy he had left, went up to him and said,—
"Hatteras, we are going to die from want of fire!"
"Never!" said Hatteras, knowing very well what request he was refusing.
"We must," continued the doctor, mildly.
"Never!" repeated Hatteras more firmly; "I shall never give my consent! Whoever wishes, may disobey me."
Thus was permission given them. Johnson and Bell hastened to the deck. Hatteras heard the wood of the brig crashing under the axe, and wept.
That was Christmas Day, the great family festival in England, one specially devoted to the amusement of the children. What a painful recollection was that of the happy children gathered about the green Christmas tree! Every one recalled the huge pieces of roast meat, cut from the fattened ox, and the tarts, the mince-pies, and other luxuries so dear to the English heart! But here was nothing but suffering, despair, and wretchedness, and for the Christmas log, these pieces of a ship lost in the middle of the frigid zone!
Nevertheless, under the genial influence of the fire, the spirits and strength of the men returned; the hot tea and coffee brought great and immediate consolation, and hope is so firm a friend of man, that they even began to hope for some luckier fate. It was thus that the year 1860 passed away, the early winter of which had so interfered with Hatteras's plans.
Now it happened that this very New Year's Day was marked by an unexpected discovery. It was a little milder than the previous days had been; the doctor had resumed his studies; he was reading Sir Edward Belcher's account of his expedition in the polar regions. Suddenly, a passage which he had never noticed before filled him with astonishment; he read it over again; doubt was no longer possible.
Sir Edward Belcher states that, having come to the end of Queen's Channel, he found there many traces of the presence of men. He says:—