e common-room was the only place where they could
stay; so it was soon transformed into a hospital, for of the eighteen
sailors of the _Forward_, thirteen were soon down with scurvy. It
seemed as if Pen would escape the contagion; his strong constitution
preserved him; Shandon felt the first symptoms, but it went no further
with him, and plenty of exercise soon restored him to good health.

The doctor tended his patients with the greatest devotion, and his
heart would bleed at the sight of the sufferings he could not assuage.
Still, he inspired as much cheerfulness as he could in the lonely
crew; his words, his consolations, his philosophical reflections, his
fortunate inventions, broke the monotony of those long days of
suffering; he would read aloud to them; his wonderful memory kept him
supplied with amusing anecdotes, while the men who were well stood
pressing closely around the stove; but the groans of the sick, their
complaints, and their cries of despair would continually interrupt
him, and, breaking off in the middle of a story, he would become the
devoted and attentive physician.

Besides, his health remained good; he did not grow thin; his
corpulence stood him in better stead than the thickest raiment, and he
used to say he was as well clad as a seal or a whale, who, thanks to
their thick layers of fat, easily support the rigors of the winter.

Hatteras did not suffer physically or morally. The sufferings of the
crew did not seem to depress him. Perhaps he would not let his
emotions appear on his face, while an acute observer would have
detected the heart of a man beneath this mask of iron.

The doctor analyzed him, studied him, and could not classify this
strange organization, this unnatural temperament.

The thermometer fell still lower; the deck was entirely deserted; the
Esquimaux dogs alone walked up and down it, barking dismally.

There was always a man on guard near the stove, who superintended
putting on the coal; it was important not to let it go out; when the
fire got low the cold crept into the room, formed on the walls, and
the moisture suddenly condensed and fell in the form of snow on the
unfortunate occupants of the brig.

It was among these terrible sufferings that they reached December 8th;
that morning the doctor went as usual to look at the thermometer. He
found the mercury entirely frozen in the bulb.

"Forty-four degrees below zero!" he said with terror.

And on that day the last