For two
or three days he was very sick indeed and the Eskimos both told him
that it was the effect of the evil spirit in the liver, and that he
would surely die, and for a day or so he believed that he really
should.
Whether the bear liver was under the curse of evil spirits or was in
itself poisonous were questions that did not interest Bob. He knew it
had made him sick and that was enough for him, and what remained of
the liver went to the dogs, when he was able to be about again.
The days passed wearily enough for the men in their floating prison,
impatient as they were at their enforced inactivity, but still
helpless to do anything to quicken their release. May was dragging to
an end and June was at hand, and still the ice pack, firm and
unbroken, refused to loose its bands. Slowly--imperceptibly to the
watchers on board the _Maid of the North_--it was drifting to the
southward on the bosom of the Arctic current. But the sun, constantly
gaining more power, was rotting the ice, and it was inevitable that
sooner or later the pack must fall to pieces and release the schooner
and its occupants from their bondage. Then would come another danger.
If the wind blew strong and the seas ran high, the heavy pans of ice
pounding against the hull might crush it in and send the vessel to the
bottom.
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