one of these catastrophes that no human power can prevent.
"You are right," replied the captain, "and we must prevent our men from plundering. We are sure of enough provisions for one year, without counting what we may get by fishing."
"And it is so much the more necessary, captain, to keep a close watch, because I have seen some hovering about the spirit casks."
"I will see to that," replied West.
"But," I then asked, "had we not better prepare ourselves for the fact that we may be compelled to winter on this iceberg."
"May Heaven avert such a terrible probability," replied the captain.
"After all, if it were necessary, we could get through it, Mr. Jeorling," said the boatswain. "We could hollow out sheltering-places in the ice, so as to be able to bear the extreme cold of the pole, and so long as we had sufficient to appease our hunger—"
At this moment the horrid recollection of the Grampus came to my mind—the scenes in which Dirk Peters killed Ned Holt, the brother of our sailing-master. Should we ever be in such extremity?
Would it not, before we proceed to set up winter quarters for seven or eight months, be better to leave the iceberg altogether, if such a thing were possible?
I called the attention of Captain Len Guy and West to this point.
This was a difficult question to answer, and a long silence preceded the reply.
At last the captain said,—
