"So you've come, old mate?" he muttered, like one in a dream. "Thought you would, somehow. We got there all right—no kidding, we did."
"Get up and turn out," said Dacres authoritatively.
The seaman, disciplined to obey orders implicitly, attempted to rise. He realized that he was addressed by some one having authority; but to arise was beyond the power of his numbed limbs and exhausted body.
"We'll have to unship the tent," declared Dacres as he rejoined his comrades. "There's one of them alive, if not more; but he cannot move."
"Is there a lamp burning?" asked Dr. Hambrough.
"No; there is one but it's gone out," replied Whittinghame. "I noticed that."
Quickly the foot of the tent was freed from the wall of snow that had been built around it, and the flimsy structure thrown aside.
The man whom Dacres had roused was asleep once more.
One by one the doctor examined the five men. "They are all alive," he said; "but we are only just in time. We must get them on board as quickly as we can."
It was impossible to distinguish Cardyke from the rest of the party. The men's faces were encrusted with soot and grease, while they had allowed their beards to grow and these were clogged with the same uncongenial mixture.