But God always sent many rays of light through the densest darkness besetting our explorers to cheer them and inspire hope. The yellow tints of coming sunlight were at noonday faintly painted on the horizon. The rabbits prophesied the spring by appearing abroad, and two were shot. They yielded a pint of raw blood, which the sickest drank as a grateful cordial. Their flesh was also eaten raw, and with great thankfulness.
Following these moments of comfort came a dismal and anxious night. Thick clouds over-spread the sky, a heavy mist rendered the darkness appalling, followed by a drifting snow and a fearful storm. The wind howled and shrieked through the rigging of the helpless, battered brig, as if in mockery of her condition and the sufferings of her inmates. Goodfellow had gone inland with his gun during the brief day, and had not returned. Roman candles and bluelights were burned to guide him homeward. Altogether it was a night to excite the superstitious fears of the sailors, and they proved to be not beyond the reach of such fears. Tom Hickey, the cook, having been on deck while the gale was in its full strength, to peer into the darkness for him, ran below declaring that he had seen Goodfellow moving cautiously along the land-ice and jump down on the floe. He hurried up his supper to give the tired messmate a warm welcome, but no one came. Dr. Kane went out with a lantern, looked carefully around for some hundreds of yards, but found no fresh footsteps. Tom seriously insisted that he had seen Goodfellow's apparition!
Such was the state of things when one of the sailors went on deck. There was hanging in the rigging an old seal-skin bag containing the remnant of the ship's furs. Its ghostly appearance in ordinary darkness had been the occasion of much jesting. Now, to the excited imagination of the sailor, it pounded the mast like the gloved fist of a giant boxer, glowed with a ghastly light, and muttered to him an unearthly story. He did not stop to converse with it, but hastened below with the expression of his fears. His messmates laughed and jeered at his tale, but their merriment was but the whistling to inspire their own courage.
The morning came and so did Goodfellow, none the worse for his night's experience. The storm subsided, Hans killed three rabbits, they all tasted a little and felt better, and the seal-skin bag was never known from that time to utter a word. Fears may endure for a night but joy cometh in the morning! Dr. Kane devoutly remarks: "See how often relief has come at the moment of extremity; see, still more, how the back has been strengthened to its increasing burden, and the heart cheered by some unconscious influence of an unseen Power."
CHAPTER XX.
DESERTERS.
HANS had been for some time promising the hungry company a deer. He had seen their tracks, and he was watching for them with a good rifle, a keen eye, and a steady hand. He came in on the evening of February twenty-second with the good news that he had lodged a ball in one at a long range, and that he went hobbling away. He was sure he should find him dead in the morning. The morning came and the game was found, having staggered, bleeding, only two miles. He was a noble fellow, measuring in length six feet and two inches, and five feet in girth. He weighed about one hundred and eighty pounds when dressed. The enfeebled men with difficulty drew him on board. His presence caused a thrill of joy, and his luscious flesh sent its invigoration through their emaciated frames.
The following Sunday, as Dr. Kane was standing on deck thinking of their situation, he lifted up his eyes toward a familiar berg, for many months shrouded in darkness, and saw it sparkling in the sunlight. The King of Day was not yet above the intervening hills, but he had sent his sheen to proclaim his coming. Glad as a boy whom the full mid-winter moon invites to a coasting frolic, he started on a run, climbed the elevations, and bathed in his refreshing rays.