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Three hours later the last relics of the ice-wall had disappeared, proving that the island now remained stationary, and that all the force of the current was deep down below the waves, not on the surface of the sea.
The bearings were taken at noon with the greatest care and twenty-four hours later it was found that Victoria Island had not advanced one mile.
The only remaining hope was that some vessel should sight the poor shipwrecked creatures, either whilst still on the island, or after they had taken to their raft.
The island was now in 54° 33’ latitude, and 177° 19’ longitude, several hundred miles from the nearest land, namely, the Aleutian Islands.
Hobson once more called his comrades together, and asked them what they thought it would be best to do.
All agreed that they should remain on the island until it broke up, as it was too large to be affected by the state of the sea, and only take to the raft when the dissolution actually commenced. Once on the frail vessel, they must wait.
Still wait!
The raft was now finished. Mac-Nab had made one large shed or cabin big enough to hold every one, and to afford some little shelter from the weather. A mast had been prepared, which could be put up if necessary, and the sails intended for the boat had long been ready. The whole structure was strong, although clumsy; and if the wind were favourable, and the sea not too rough, this rude assortment of planks and timbers might save the lives of the whole party.
“Nothing,” observed Mrs Barnett,—”nothing is impossible to Him who rules the winds and waves.”
Hobson carefully looked over the stores of provisions. The reserves had been much damaged by the avalanche, but there were plenty of animals still on the island, and the abundant shrubs and mosses supplied them with food. A few reindeer and hares were slaughtered by the hunters, and their flesh salted for future needs.
The health of the colonists was on the whole good. They had
suffered little in the preceding mild winter, and all the mental
trials they had gone through had not affected their physical
well-being. They were, however, looking forward with something of a
shrinking horror to the moment when they would have to abandon
their island home, or, to speak more correctly, when it abandoned
them. It was no wonder that they did not like the thought of
floating on the ocean in a rude structure of wood subject to all
the caprices of winds and waves. Even in tolerably fine weather
seas would be shipped and every one constantly drenched with
saltwater. Moreover, it must be remembered that the men were none
of them sailors, accustomed to navigation, and ready to risk their
lives on a few planks, but soldiers, trained for service on land.
Their island was fragile, it is true, and rested on a thin crust of
ice; but then it was covered with a productive soil, trees and
shrubs flourished upon it, its (...)
(......)
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