During the morning of Saturday the appearance of the plain of ice changed materially; the perturbed fragments, the frequent packs, the hummocks, showed that the ice-field was enduring some severe pressure; evidently some unknown continent, some new island, might have caused this by narrowing the passes. Blocks of fresh water, more frequent and larger, indicated the coast to be near. Hence, there was near them a new land, and the doctor yearned with a desire to add to the charts of the northern regions. Great is the pleasure of ascertaining the line of these unknown coasts, and of tracing it with a pencil; that was the doctor's aim, while that of Hatteras was merely to place his foot upon the Pole, and he took pleasure in advance in thinking of the names he was going to give to the seas, straits, bays, and slightest promontories in these new continents; certainly he would not forget the names of his companions, his friends, nor her Gracious Majesty, nor the royal family; and he foresaw a certain "Cape Clawbonny" with great satisfaction.
These thoughts kept him busy all day; that evening they encamped as usual, and each one took his turn at watching near these unknown lands. The next day, Sunday, after a heavy breakfast of bear's paws, which were very good, the travellers pushed on to the north, inclining a little to the west; the road grew difficult, but yet they advanced rapidly. Altamont, from the top of the sledge, scanned the horizon with feverish attention; his companions were the victims of involuntary uneasiness. The last solar observations gave them latitude 83° 35', and longitude 120° 15'; that was the place where the American ship was said to be lying; the question of life and death was to be solved that day. At last, at about half past two in the afternoon, Altamont stood straight, stopped the little band by a loud cry, and, pointing with his hand to a white mass, which all the rest had taken for an iceberg, he cried with a loud voice,—
"The Porpoise!"
CHAPTER VI.
THE PORPOISE.
March 24th was Palm Sunday,—that day when the streets of the towns and villages of Europe are filled with flowers and leaves; bells are ringing, and the air is filled with rich perfumes. But here, in this desolate country, what sadness and silence! The wind was keen and bitter; not a leaf of foliage was to be seen! But still, this Sunday was a day of rejoicing for our travellers, for at last they were about to find supplies which would save them from certain death. They hastened their steps; the dogs drew the sledge briskly, Duke barked joyously, and they all soon reached the American ship. The Porpoise was wholly buried beneath the snow; there was no sign of mast, yard, or rigging; all had been lost at the time of the shipwreck; the ship lay on a bed of rocks now completely hidden. The Porpoise was careened to one side by the violence of the shock, her bottom was torn open, so that the ship seemed uninhabitable. This was soon seen by the captain, the doctor, and Johnson, after they had entered the vessel; they had to cut away fifteen feet of ice to get to the hatchway; but to their great joy they saw that the animals, many traces of which were to be seen, had spared the supplies.
"If we have here," said Johnson, "plenty of food and fuel, this hull does not seem inhabitable."