CHAPTER X.
THE WRECK.
The Rochhampton was rushing south at her fastest rate, and already the Anarchists had ransacked the ship for warmer clothing, for they had left the mild latitudes and were well within the influence of the Antarctic currents, where the still distant ice and snow fields could be smelt. Ten days had passed since they had captured the vessel, and the weather had been uniformly fine during that period. Two days more and they would be safe at anchorage in their new settlement, Comprado Island; this Captain Anatole had assured them in his easy and confident manner.
"The day after to-morrow, just about breakfast, comrades, we shall behold the lofty ranges and wide fjords of our future island—a place like Norway, picturesque and grand, where coal is plentiful, and, as the learned doctor will tell you, which offers every facility to investigation. It is not quite so genial a climate as I should like, but it has the advantage of being safe and out of the way."
"Yes," replied the doctor, in a musing voice. "It has the advantage of being the oldest portion now above water of the globe—the site of the most ancient of races, the almost mythical Atalanta—where men lived as we
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