current which was carrying us along pass on to the pole itself, or was there any land which might arrest our progress? This was another question, and I discussed it with the boatswain.
"Nobody knows, Mr. Jeorling," was Hurliguerly's reply. "If the current goes to the pole, we shall go there; and if it doesn't, we shan't. An iceberg isn't a ship, and as it has neither sails nor helm, it goes as the drift takes it."
"That's true, boatswain. And therefore I had the idea that if two or three of us were to embark in the boat—"
"Ah! you still hold to your notion of the boat—"
"Certainly, for, if there is land somewhere, is it not possible that the people of the Jane—"
"Have come upon it, Mr. Jeorling—at four thousand miles from Tsalal Island."
"Who knows, boatswain?"
"That may be, but allow me to say that your argument will be reasonable when the land comes in sight, if it ever does so. Our captain will see what ought to be done, and he will remember that time presses. We cannot delay in these waters, and, after all, the one thing of real importance to us is to get out of the polar circle before the winter makes it impassable."
There was good sense in Hurliguerly's words; I could not deny the fact.
During that day the greater part of the cargo was placed in the interior of a vast cave-like fissure in the side of the iceberg, where, even in case of a second collision, casks and barrels would be in safety. Our men then assisted Endicott to set up his cooking-stove between two blocks, so that it was firmly fixed, and they heaped up a great mass of coals close to it.
