you
shall give him your word, as a man of honour, that you will make no
attempt to leave his ship without permission. Under no pretence or plea
will you try to escape, and, whatever you see, you will not complain
about when aboard with him. You are to hold no converse with the men,
nor will you interfere with them in any work they do; and you will
carry out this contract not only in the letter but in the spirit. If
you will give me your word on that now, you can pack your trunk and
come aboard without any fuss; but I don't disguise it from you, that
any folly after this may cost you your life, and that if you have half
a thought of playing us false, you'd better stop where you are."

I debated on the whole extent of his proposition, and made up my mind
on it in a few moments. I was aware that, if I remained at the station,
I could expect nothing but speedy death upon the ice, since the doctor
had told me that the place would be deserted during the winter. Against
this I had to ask myself if my going aboard the nameless ship meant in
any way approval of the occupation of those who sailed it; but this
suggestion was too trivial, and I dismissed it in a moment; while the
thought flashed across my mind that if I could but once be taken to
European or American waters, there would be at least the probability
that this man might fall into the hands of those who were seeking him.
In that case liberty would come with his undoing; which was even more
pleasant to think upon than to contemplate it with him yet free as a
voracious beast of the seas.

"You accept?" said the doctor, who sat watching me as I thought these
things; and I answered him without hesitation--

"I accept."

"The captain has your word of honour as between gentlemen?"

"As between--well, if you like it so--as between gentlemen."

The satire of the last word was too much for him, for he was one of the
pleasantest fellows in his saner moments that I have ever met. We both
laughed heartily, and then he said--

"But I'm forgetting, you've got no trunk, and I must lend you one.
You're rather short of duds, I know, but we can rig you out until we
get to Paris, and there the skipper will see to it--any way, so long as
you've a coat thick enough, we won't criticise you in these parts; and
I don't suppose you're thinking of garden parties."

"Anything but," I answered, as pleased as he was at the prospect of it
all, and especially at the thought of quitting the