de, opened off.

"Those doors must lead to the staterooms of the former officers,"
declared the ensign, and a tour of inspection of the rooms was begun at
once. In the first three, after a thorough ransacking nothing more
interesting was to be found than some old sea chests, containing
garments and nautical instruments of antique pattern. In the last,
however, which bore traces of having been better furnished than the
others, there hung a crudely painted picture of a grizzled-looking
seaman, on whose breast hung conspicuously a gold image of a whale.
Apparently this was some sort of an emblem. But to Rob the portrait
presented a clew.

"Why, that same emblem hung on the uniform of the dead man in the
deckhouse!" he exclaimed.

"So it did," cried the ensign. "Boys, from the looks of it, this was the
cabin of the master of the ship, and yonder body, it is my firm belief,
is his."

But Merritt had stumbled upon another discovery. This was nothing more
than a large book, bound in leather. But to the ensign it seemed to be
apparently a highly important find.

"It's the ship's log-book," he exclaimed, pointing to the embossed words
on the cover. "Now perhaps we may light on a partial solution of this
mystery."

He opened the book at the first page, and learned from the crabbed
writing with which it was covered, that the _Good Hope_, Ezekial T.
Daniels, master, had set sail from New Bedford for the South Pacific
whaling ground in April, 1879.

"Gracious, that was about thirty-three years ago," stammered Merritt.

"I have heard of derelicts that drifted longer than that," said the
naval officer calmly.

He began turning over the leaves of the log book. It was an epic of the
sea. Every incident that had befallen the _Good Hope_ on her long voyage
was faithfully set down. He skimmed through the records, reading the
most interesting bits of information out aloud for the benefit of his
youthful companions.

From the log book it was learned that the _Good Hope_ had met with
indifferent luck on her long three years' cruise, but had suddenly run
into a most extraordinary bit of good fortune.

"Listen to this, boys," exclaimed the ensign with what, for one of his
self-contained nature, was strong excitement, "it reads like a bit of
wild romance."

Without further preface he began reading:

"'May, 1883--This day encountered the strangest thing in all my
experience. As set down, we have drifted into the Antarctic ice pa