on.

"Yes, the mate and the doctor."

"Do you think they fancy the same thing?"

"I have heard them talking about it, and they could make no more out
of it than we can; they imagined a thousand things which did not
satisfy them in the least."

"Did they say the same things about the dog that you did, Clifton?"
asked the carpenter.

"If they were not talking about the dog," answered Clifton, who was
fairly cornered, "they were talking about the captain; it's exactly
the same thing, and they confessed it was all very strange."

"Well, my friends," said Bell, "do you want to hear my opinion?"

"What is it!" they all cried.

"It is that there is not, and there will not be, any other captain
than Richard Shandon."

"And the letter?" said Clifton.

"The letter was genuine," answered Bell; "it is perfectly true that
some unknown person has equipped the _Forward_ for an expedition in
the ice; but the ship once off, no one will come on board."

"Well," asked Bolton, "where is the ship going to?"

"I don't know; at the right time, Richard Shandon will get the rest of
the instructions."

"But from whom?"

"From whom?"

"Yes, in what way?" asked Bolton, who was becoming persistent.

"Come, Bell, an answer," said the other sailors.

"From whom? in what way? O, I'm sure I don't know!"

"Well, from the dog!" cried Clifton. "He has already written once, and
he can again. O, if I only knew half as much as he does, I might be
First Lord of the Admiralty!"

"So," added Bolton, in conclusion, "you persist in saying that dog is
the captain?"

"Yes, I do."

"Well," said Pen, gruffly, "if that beast doesn't want to die in a
dog's skin, he'd better hurry and turn into a man; for, on my word,
I'll finish him."

"Why so?" asked Garry.

"Because I want to," answered Pen, brutally; "and I don't care what
any one says."

"You have been talking long enough, men," shouted the boatswain,
advancing at the moment when the conversation threatened to become
dangerous; "to work, and have the saws put in quicker! We must get
through the ice."

"Good! on Friday too," answered Clifton, shrugging his shoulders. "You
won't find it so easy to cross the Polar Circle."

Whatever the reason may have been, the exertions of the crew on that
day were nearly fruitless. The _Forward_, plunging, under a full head
of steam, against the floes, could not separate them; they were
obliged to lie at anchor that night.

On Saturday, the te