Hatteras thought of the Forward! In what condition was he going to find it? What had happened on board? Had Johnson been able to withstand Shandon and his allies? The cold had been terrible! Had they burned the ship? Had they spared her masts and keel?
While thinking of this, Hatteras walked on as if he had wished to get an early view of the Forward.
February 24th, in the morning, he stopped suddenly. Three hundred paces before him appeared a reddish glow, above which rose an immense column of black smoke, which was lost in the gray clouds of the sky.
"See that smoke!" he shouted.
His heart beat as if it would burst.
"See that smoke!" he said to his companions. "My ship is on fire!"
"But we are more than three miles from it," said Bell. "It can't be the Forward!"
"Yes, but it is," answered the doctor; "the mirage makes it seem nearer."
"Let us run!" cried Hatteras.
They left the sledge in charge of Duke, and hastened after the captain. An hour later they came in sight of the ship. A terrible sight! The brig was burning in the midst of the ice, which was melting about her; the flames were lapping her hull, and the southerly breeze brought to Hatteras's ears unaccustomed sounds.