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Updated: June 21, 2025
The 1st of January was one of the gloomiest of these winter days. The wind was violent, and the cold insupportable. They could not go out, except at the risk of being frozen. The most courageous were fain to limit themselves to walking on deck, sheltered by the tent. Jean Cornbutte, Gervique, and Gradlin did not leave their beds.
Even the news of the event was quite unknown. The brig resumed its voyage, after a stay of ten days, about the 10th of June. The sea was calm, and the winds were favourable. The ship sped rapidly towards the Norwegian coast, which it explored without better result. Jean Cornbutte determined to proceed to Bodoë.
He was a sailor of some sixty years, but still vigorous and sturdy, with, an open, honest countenance. "Monsieur the curé," said he, "stop a moment, if you please." "What do you want so early in the morning, Jean Cornbutte?" asked the curé. "What do I want? Why, to embrace you in my arms, i' faith!" "Well, after the mass at which you are going to be present "
But neither Marie nor Jean Cornbutte had yet been able to wave their hands at the captain of the ship. "Faith! there's the first mate, André Vasling," cried Clerbaut. "And there's Fidèle Misonne, the carpenter," said another. "And our friend Penellan," said a third, saluting the sailor named.
Louis and Penellan descended to the cabin, and Marie fell into their arms. Herming, mortally wounded, had been carried to a berth by Misonne and Turquiette, who had succeeded in getting free. He was already at the last gasp of death; and the two sailors occupied themselves with Nouquet, whose wound was not, happily, a serious one. But a greater misfortune had overtaken Louis Cornbutte.
"What is that?" said the latter, whose mind, according to a sailor's habit, was awake as soon as his body. "Listen, captain." The noise increased, with perceptible violence. "It cannot be thunder, in so high a latitude," said Cornbutte, rising. "I think we have come across some white bears," replied Penellan. "The devil! We have not seen any yet."
Gradlin! where are you?" "Here I am!" responded Turquiette, shaking off the snow with which he was covered. "This way, Vasling," cried Cornbutte to the mate. "And Gradlin?" "Present, captain. But we are lost!" shouted Gradlin, in fright. "No!" said Penellan. "Perhaps we are saved!" Hardly had he uttered these words when a frightful cracking noise was heard.
At the beginning of the affray the basin had been upset on the stove, and the grease running over the burning coals, impregnated the atmosphere with its odour. Marie rose with cries of despair, and hurried to the bed of old Jean Cornbutte. Vasling, less strong than Penellan, soon perceived that the latter was getting the better of him. They were too close together to make use of their weapons.
"Whether it has or not," replied Jean Cornbutte, "it will sound many more times to-day, monsieur the curé, for you have promised me that you will bless, with your own hands, the marriage of my son Louis and my niece Marie!" "He has arrived, then," said the curé "joyfully. "It is nearly the same thing," replied Cornbutte, rubbing his hands.
The smoke now disappeared, and no elevation served as a guiding mark, for the ice-plain was one united level. It was important, nevertheless, not to diverge from a straight line. "Since we cannot guide ourselves by distant objects," said Jean Cornbutte, "we must use this method. Penellan will go ahead, Vasling twenty steps behind him, and I twenty steps behind Vasling.
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