“For the first moment we were dumb; in the second, horror-struck. As a serpent darts its tongue, rills of oil spread down the plank-seams of the deck; and from each rill, flame leaped and ran about the ship. With a wild shriek, the woman began to carry snow from a drift on the prow and sprinkle it on the spreading conflagration. She might as well have tried to extinguish it with her tears. In two minutes, yellow tongues were running up the mast—that mast I had hoped would warm our igloo for a fortnight. In three, there was no hope of a splinter of the cold-dried boat remaining. I made one plunge into the cabin and grabbed an arm-load of clothes and food, and ran with them to the igloo. But when I had returned, there was no chance for a second try. The cabin was a furnace of eager flame.
“The woman, the weeping cause of this, and I were beaten back by the heat, and at the opening of our only refuge now, the hut of snow, we stood and watched the swift destruction of the schooner's hulk. About us, the night's darkness was driven to its dusky horizons. Overhead, the zenith was lit by the up-roaring pillar of fire which had so lately been a mast, a deck, a ship. We looked in silence, while the tower of flame rushed into the sky, like a signal to the wilderness. But a signal of what? Two houseless individuals, robbed of their store of food, with no means of moving, and nowhere to move.”
Prunier paused, and Essex Lad drew a long breath. It was his first for minutes.
“So that was your pillar of fire?” I said, “It seems to me more like one of Satan's than the Lord's.”
Prunier made an expressive gesture with his pipe. “Le bon Dieu does all things for the best,” he said reverently. “Alors. We stood there watching, the heat reaching us, and even eating maliciously into the white walls of our last hiding-place. But that did not go on long, for the ship was pouring its soul too lavishly into that hot pyre to last.
“'Quick,' I said to my fellow-outcast, 'drink in all the heat you can, for this is the end.'
“'And it is my fault!' she said; 'can you forgive me?'
“'Can you?' I asked. 'We must be brave now. Let us warm ourselves while there are coals to warm us. Let us warm our wits and think, for before day dawns we must have a plan.'
“'It is too hard,' she said hopelessly.
“'Trust God for one night more. Perhaps I can make a sledge and pull you to my cabin. There is food there.'