"The captain would never consent; but perhaps we shall be obliged." Johnson shook his head sadly, and fell into a silent reverie, which Bell did not interrupt. He knew that their stock of grease would not last more than a week with the strictest economy. The boatswain was not mistaken. Several bears, attracted by the fetid exhalations, were signalled to the windward; the healthy men gave chase to them, but they are extraordinarily quick, and did not allow themselves to be approached, and the most skilful shots could not touch them. The ship's crew was seriously menaced with death from cold; it was impossible to resist such a temperature more than forty-eight hours, and every one feared the end of the fuel. The dreaded moment arrived at three o'clock p.m. on the 20th of December. The fire went out; the sailors looked at each other with haggard eyes. Hatteras remained immovable in his corner. The doctor as usual marched up and down in agitation; he was at his wits' end. The temperature of the room fell suddenly to 7 degrees below zero. But if the doctor did not know what to do, some of the others did. Shandon, calm and resolute, and Pen with anger in his eyes, and two or three of their comrades, who could still walk, went up to Hatteras. "Captain!" said Shandon. Hatteras, absorbed in thought, did not hear him. "Captain!" repeated Shandon, touching his hand. Hatteras drew himself up. "What is it?" he said. "Our fire is out!" "What then?" answered Hatteras. "If you mean to kill us with cold, you had better say so," said Shandon ironically. "I mean," said Hatteras gravely, "to require every man to do his duty to the end." "There's something higher than duty, captain--there's the right to one's own preservation. I repeat that the fire is out, and if it is not relighted, not one of us will be alive in two days." "I have no fuel," answered Hatteras, with a hollow voice. "Very well," cried Pen violently, "if you have no fuel, we must take it where we can!" Hatteras grew pale with anger. "Where?" said he. "On board," answered the sailor insolently. "On board!" echoed the captain, his fists closed, his eyes sparkling. He had seized an axe, and he now raised it over Pen's head. "Wretch!" he cried. The doctor rushed between the captain and Pen; the axe fell to the ground, its sharp edge sinking into the flooring. Johnson, Bell, and Simpson were grouped round Hatteras, and appeared determined to give him their support. But lamentable and plaintive voices came from the beds. "Some fire! Give us some fire!" cried the poor fellows. Hatteras made an effort, and said calmly: "If we destroy the brig, how shall we get back to England?" "We might burn some of the rigging and the gunwale, sir," said Johnson. "Besides, we should still have the boats left," answered Shandon; "and we could build a smaller vessel with the remains of the old one!" "Never!" answered Hatteras. "But----" began several sailors, raising their voices.