At such times it taxed all the energies of Claude and the doctor, and even of Paddy himself, to keep the men from sinking into utter despondency.

Even Fingal, and Alba the snow-bird, seemed to partake of a portion of the general gloom. Fingal lying quietly in his corner, dreaming, perhaps, of the bonnie heather hills of Scotland; and Alba, with drooping wings--her head under one--perched over Claude's couch.

CHAPTER TWENTY ONE.

A TERRIBLE TIME--THE DOCTOR'S DREAM--THE WONDROUS MIRAGE.

It was the month of mid-winter. Sickness had come at last; the sickness that is born of privation and absence of vegetable food. The younger and more weakly of the men were first to succ.u.mb. They lost heart, felt weary, tired, depressed. They refused to work. Even Dr Barrett could not find it in his heart to force them. They grew pale and thin, even to emaciation, and their dilated pupils glittered on their sunken eyeb.a.l.l.s.

Their stronger companions tried to cheer them, ay, and many a time went without food themselves to give it to them.

One dropped dead, and was carried away and buried in the ice-hole.

"Buried by the light of glaring torches," buried at sea you may call it,--a sailor's funeral, but what a sad one!

It was Magnus Jansen, a fair-haired Shetland lad, who had been a great favourite with his messmates, owing to his kind and gentle nature and his ever willingness to oblige.

"We commit his body to the deep," read Claude, "looking for the resurrection, when the sea shall give up her dead;" and more than one h.o.r.n.y hand was raised to brush away a tear, as with deep and sullen plash the body sank into the sea.

Two more died in a week--died apparently of utter despondency and weariness.

"I shall soon see the light," were the last words of one of these. He just smiled faintly, and pa.s.sed away.

Three more in a fortnight.

They nearly all seemed to go in the same way, of utter debility and hopelessness.

Byarnie was nurse-in-chief. He was always with them to the last; the great giant kneeling down beside their pallets, and breathing in their dying ears words that it is to be hoped often deprived even death of its victory.

More than one died leaning against Byarnie's broad breast. I have already said that Byarnie's big fat face was far from handsome. Ah! but it was _so_ honest; and had you seen him there by the bedsides of those dying sailors, you would have said that his face shone at times with almost a heavenly light.

Another, and still another, was borne slowly away to the ice-hole.

Then it seemed as if Death was for a time satiated, and had claimed victims enough.

For almost the first time this winter, the sky cleared, the stars shone like emeralds through the frosty glow, the moon put in an appearance, casting long shadows across the snowfields, from those who walked out.

There was the aurora, too, a brighter display than any one ever remembered witnessing. Away in the north, and overhead, the ever-changing colours shimmered and danced in a way that was magical, marvellous, and it seemed at times that you had but to put up your hand and touch the broad fringes of light that danced and flickered before your eyes.

The sight of the sky evidently gave the men some heart, some hope.

But after a week the stars and aurora disappeared, and the darkness of a Polar night once more descended on the scene.

With so many ill, with so many dead, it would have been but a mockery now to venture on anything approaching to gaiety or merriment. Even Paddy felt that; and though, like boy Bounce, ever earnest, and energetic, and kind, he went about his work quieter and more subdued than probably he had ever been in his life before.

Instead of lecturing, Dr Barrett used in the evenings now to read books to his people; often books of a religious character, though not of the gloomy kind, but rather those that spoke of a Father's love, and carried the thoughts away and away to that bright land where there shall be no more sorrow or crying.

One morning in March, Dr Barrett appeared more than usually cheerful.

There were now so many sick that hardly could those in comparative health attend to their wants.

"I've had a dream," the doctor explained. "No," he added, smiling, "I shall not tell you what it is. You will know by-and-by, for my dream may not come true. Byarnie," he said, "I'm going mining after breakfast. The morning is still and fine, and there are a lot of stars out. Bring tools and a few men with you."

"Going mining?" said Claude, in some surprise.

"Yes, mining, captain; but not for gold this time, but for what is ten times more precious--for health. Get ready, Byarnie, and we'll want torches, as well as a bucket."

"You excite my curiosity," said Claude. "May I go along with you?"

"You'll do me pleasure."

Straight along the south coast of the inland sea went Dr Barrett, Byarnie following up with his men. For more than half a mile he trudged on without looking either to the right or left. Then he stopped just under a cliff, or rather a rounded braeland.

"Now, men, clear away the snow from the ice close to the edge."

"I think it was here I saw them in my dream," he added, turning to Claude.

"I'm all in a fog," said Claude.

The snow was not very deep, and the ice was soon cleared.

"Now light up your torches, and you other men smash the ice and clear a big hole. No fear of drowning; the tide is well back."

This was a more difficult task, but it was accomplished at last, all the more easily because there was no water beneath.

"See anything down there?" the doctor asked of a man who had just lifted up a huge piece of ice.

"Only a thickish kind of seaweed, sir."

"All right," cried the doctor, quite jubilant now. "Fill this bucket with it."

This was done, and soon the whole party reached camp again.

"I am to be blamed," said Dr Barrett, "for not thinking of this marvellous seaweed before. It contains potash in abundance, and while mosses of all kinds are frozen to death on the hillsides, this, you see, survives. Our poor fellows, now almost dead of the scurvy, may yet revive."

Not only those who were sick, but all hands partook of the esculent weed. The sick revived, those in health grew brighter, calmer, and happier.

"If our food holds out, I think we may now weather the winter," said Dr Barrett.

"I sincerely trust so," said Claude, "and that we may all be well to commence the march."

It seemed, however, that fate had still further affliction in store for them, for one day Byarnie came to the doctor, and very sad he looked.

No less than two casks of meat were found almost putrid, and the store of bears' flesh had also gone bad.

This was indeed terrible news.

When the third and last cask was opened it was found like the others, unfit even for the food of starving men!