Dr. Kane had made one of his last trips to the brig: he would return for provisions only; but all his specimens of Natural History, collected with much toil, his books, and many of his well-tested instruments, he was compelled to leave. His six dogs had carried him, during the fortnight since the company left the brig, between seven and eight hundred miles, averaging about fifty-seven miles a day. But for their services the sick could scarcely have been saved, and the rest would have suffered more intensely.
Leaving, as usual, a part of the food with Mr. Brooks's party, they hastened on to replenish the stores and cheer the hearts of the lonely dwellers in the hut.
CHAPTER XXIII.
NARROW ESCAPES.
HAVING brought forward the provisions to Anoatok, Dr. Kane, with the help of Metek and his dogs, began to remove them still farther south, making one deposit near Cape Hatherton, and the other yet farther, near Littleton Island. But an immediate journey to Etah for walrus had become necessary. The hard-working men were improving on this greasy food, and they wanted it in abundance. Dr. Kane found the Etahites fat and full. He left his weary, well-worn dogs to recruit on their abundance, and returned with their only team, which was well fed and fresh. They made the trade without any grumbling.
When he came back the Brooks party were within three miles of Anoatok. They were getting along bravely and eating voraciously, and the old cry, "more provisions!" saluted the commander. Leaving the dogs to aid in transferring the stores to the southern stations, Dr. Kane and Irish Tom Hickey started afoot to the brig to do another baking. It was a sixteen hours' tramp. But ere they slept they converted nearly a barrel of flour, the last of the stock, into the staff of life. An old pickled-cabbage cask was used as a kneading trough, and sundry volumes of the "Penny Cyclopedia of Useful Knowledge" were burned during the achievement. Tom declared the work done to be worthy of his own country's bakers, and he had been one "of them same," so he deemed that praise enough. When the doctor lamented that the flour so used was the last of the stock, Tom exclaimed: "All the better, sir, since we'll have no more bread to make."
Godfrey came to the brig on the third day, with the dogs, to carry back the baking. But a howling storm delayed them all on board. It was Sunday, and the last time that Dr. Kane expected to be in the cabin with any of his men. He took down a Bible from one of the berths and went through the long-used religious service. The dreary place was less dreary, and their burdened hearts were no doubt made lighter by thus drawing near to God.
The commander and Tom left the next day with the sledge load, leaving Godfrey to come on after farther rest. But scarcely had the sledge party delivered their load of bread, and begun the sound sleep which follows hard work, when Godfrey came in out of breath with the hot haste of his journey. He reluctantly confessed the occasion of his sudden departure from the brig. He had lain down on the contents of the mattresses to sleep. Suddenly Wilson's guitar, left with other mementoes of two winters' imprisonment, sent forth music soft and sad. Bill was sure he heard aright, for he was awake and in his right mind. He fled on the instant, and scarcely looked behind until he reached his companions. He had never heard of the musical genius of Eolus, and it was not strange that the old forsaken, mutilated, ghostly, looking brig should excite the imagination of the lonely lodger.