The Project Gutenberg EBook of Seven Frozen Sailors, by George Manville Fenn
This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org
Title: Seven Frozen Sailors
Author: George Manville Fenn
Release Date: June 20, 2010 [EBook #32932]
Language: English
Character set encoding: ASCII
*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SEVEN FROZEN SAILORS ***
Produced by Nick Hodson of London, England
Seven Frozen Sailors, by George Manville Fenn.
________________________________________________________________________
________________________________________________________________________
SEVEN FROZEN SAILORS, BY GEORGE MANVILLE FENN.
CHAPTER ONE.
HOW WE GOT THERE.
"But what are we going for?"
If he had not been so much of a gentleman, I should have said that the
half-closing of his left eye and its rapid reopening had been a wink; as
it was, we will say it was not. The next moment, he had thrown himself
back in his chair, smiled, and said, quietly. "Not yet, captain--not
yet. I'll tell you by-and-by. At present it is my secret. Waiter,
fill these glasses again!"
"But look here," I said, as soon as the waiter had done his duty, "you
can't sail right up into the Arctic circle without a crew."
"No," he said, shaking his head; "but _you_ will go?"
"Well--yes," I said; "I don't mind. She's a smart steamer, and well
found. I'll take her."
He rose solemnly from his chair, crossed to my side, and shook hands,
before wabbling back and sitting down, filling the old-fashioned Windsor
armchair so very full, that I wondered it didn't come to pieces.
I don't want to be personal, but he certainly was the fattest man I ever
saw, and the most active. The Claimant was nothing to him. He looked
perfectly stupid, as he sat there with a great wattle under his chin,
which came all over his white neckerchief and clean-frilled shirt; and
as he talked to you, he kept spinning round the great bunch of gold
seals at the end of a watered silk ribbon, that hung over his glossy
black trousers, while the huge flaps of his black bob-tail coat hung
over the sides of the chair.
"You'll be my captain, then?" he said.
"Yes, sir, I'm ready," I replied; "but about the crew. Their first
question will be
|