Their gaunt faces, black with smoke from the lamp, betrayed extreme emaciation. Their rugged, unkempt beards made them look like decrepit old men.
One of them babbled incoherently, until Ranworth understood that he was begging for tea.
The scene appalled Leslie and Guy. If this were what Polar research meant, was the game worth the candle?
"Where are the others?" asked Ranworth.
"Done in—scurvy," was the reply. Then, "We're starving," he added huskily.
"Come out, all of you," ordered Ranworth.
It was necessary to speak sharply, for the luckless explorers were too listless to take much interest in anything. Unless they were promptly moved from the vile atmosphere, and given wholesome food, they would never reach Desolation Inlet again, much less the shores of Old England.
One by one the four men who were awake were assisted out and taken on board the Bird of Freedom. The remaining three, still in the deep sleep of utter weakness and exhaustion, had to be dragged into the open air and across the intervening stretch of frozen snow.
Fortunately O'Donovan had plenty of water boiling on the two spirit stoves, and meat extract and vegetable soup were soon forthcoming. So quickly did the rescued men wolf the food that they had to be restrained forcibly.
"Leslie," said Ranworth. "I'm in a regular hole. You see, we are only just in time here, yet fifteen or twenty miles from us are eight poor Russians in perhaps a worse plight. Now, if you were in my position, what would you do?"