Every thing, even to life, depending on maintaining and increasing the power of the fire, the men now looked about them for more fuel.  There was an ample stock in the cabin, however, the fire having become extinguished, not for want of wood, but in the usual way.  It were needless to describe the manner in which those who stood around the stove watched the flames, or how profound was their satisfaction when they saw that Stimson had finally succeeded.

“God be praised for this and for all his mercies!” exclaimed Stephen, laying aside the bellows, at last.  “I can feel warmth from the fire, and that will save such of us as have not yet been taken away.”  He then lifted the lids, and looked into the different vessels that were on.  The ice was melting fast, and the steams of coffee became apparent to the senses.  It was at this instant that a feeble voice was heard issuing from beneath the coverings of a berth.

“Gar’ner,” it said, imploringly, “if you have any feelin’ for a fellow-creatur’ in distress, warm me up with one swallow of that coffee!  Oh! how pleasantly it smells, and how good it must be for the stomach!  For three days have I tasted nothing—­not even water.”

This was Daggett, the long-tried sealer; the man of iron nerves and golden longings; he who had so lately concentrated within himself all that was necessary to form a pertinacious, resolute, and grasping seeker after gain.  How changed, now, in all this!  He asked for the means of preserving life, and thought no more of skins, and oils, and treasures on desert keys.

Roswell was no sooner apprised of the situation of his brother-master, than he bestowed the necessary care on his wants.  Fortunately, the coffee brought by the Oyster Ponders, and which retained some of its original warmth, had been set before the fire, and was now as hot as the human stomach could bear it.  Two or three swallows of this grateful fluid were given to Daggett, and his voice; almost instantaneously showed the effect they produced.

“I’m in a bad way, Garner,” resumed the vineyard-master; “I fear we’re all in a bad way, that are here.  I held out ag’in the cold as long as human natur’ could bear it, but was forced to give in at last.”

“How many of your people still remain, Daggett? tell us, that we may look for them, and attend to their wants.”

“I’m afraid, Gar’ner, they’ll never want anything more in this life!  The second mate and two of the hands were sitting in the cabin when I got into this berth, and I fear ’t will be found that they’re dead.  I urged them to turn in, too, as the berths were the only place where anything like warmth was to be found; but drowsiness had come on ’em, and, when that is the case, freezin’ soon follows.”

“The three men in the cabin are past our assistance, being actually frozen into logs; but there must be several more of you.  I see the signs of two others in the berths—­ah! what do you say to that poor fellow, Stephen?”