The English at the North Pole | Page 2

of sailors were hazarding a thousand conjectures about the destination of the Forward.
"I don't know what to think about its masting," said one; "it isn't usual for steamboats to have so much sail."
"That ship," said a quartermaster with a big red face--"that ship will have to depend more on her masts than her engine, and the topsails are the biggest because the others will be often useless. I haven't got the slightest doubt that the Forward is destined for the Arctic or Antarctic seas, where the icebergs stop the wind more than is good for a brave and solid ship."
"You must be right, Mr. Cornhill," said a third sailor. "Have you noticed her stern, how straight it falls into the sea?"
"Yes," said the quartermaster, "and it is furnished with a steel cutter as sharp as a razor and capable of cutting a three-decker in two if the Forward were thrown across her at top speed."
"That's certain," said a Mersey pilot; "for that 'ere vessel runs her fourteen knots an hour with her screw. It was marvellous to see her cutting the tide when she made her trial trip. I believe you, she's a quick un."
"The canvas isn't intricate either," answered Mr. Cornhill; "it goes straight before the wind, and can be managed by hand. That ship is going to try the Polar seas, or my name isn't what it is. There's something else--do you see the wide helm-port that the head of her helm goes through?"
"It's there, sure enough," answered one; "but what does that prove?"
"That proves, my boys," said Mr. Cornhill with disdainful satisfaction, "that you don't know how to put two and two together and make it four; it proves that they want to be able to take off the helm when they like, and you know it's a manoeuvre that's often necessary when you have ice to deal with."
"That's certain," answered the crew of the Nautilus.
"Besides," said one of them, "the way she's loaded confirms Mr. Cornhill's opinion. Clifton told me. The Forward is victualled and carries coal enough for five or six years. Coals and victuals are all its cargo, with a stock of woollen garments and sealskins."
"Then," said the quartermaster, "there is no more doubt on the matter; but you, who know Clifton, didn't he tell you anything about her destination?"
"He couldn't tell me; he doesn't know; the crew was engaged without knowing. He'll only know where he's going when he gets there."
"I shouldn't wonder if they were going to the devil," said an unbeliever: "it looks like it."
"And such pay," said Clifton's friend, getting warm--"five times more than the ordinary pay. If it hadn't been for that, Richard Shandon wouldn't have found a soul to go with him. A ship with a queer shape, going nobody knows where, and looking more like not coming back than anything else, it wouldn't have suited this child."
"Whether it would have suited you or not," answered Cornhill, "you couldn't have been one of the crew of the Forward."
"And why, pray?"
"Because you don't fulfil the required conditions. I read that all married men were excluded, and you are in the category, so you needn't talk. Even the very name of the ship is a bold one. The Forward--where is it to be forwarded to? Besides, nobody knows who the captain is."
"Yes, they do," said a simple-faced young sailor.
"Why, you don't mean to say that you think Shandon is the captain of the Forward?" said Cornhill.
"But----" answered the young sailor--
"Why, Shandon is commander, and nothing else; he's a brave and bold sailor, an experienced whaler, and a jolly fellow worthy in every respect to be the captain, but he isn't any more captain than you or I. As to who is going to command after God on board he doesn't know any more than we do. When the moment has come the true captain will appear, no one knows how nor where, for Richard Shandon has not said and hasn't been allowed to say to what quarter of the globe he is going to direct his ship."
"But, Mr. Cornhill," continued the young sailor, "I assure you that there is someone on board who was announced in the letter, and that Mr. Shandon was offered the place of second to."
"What!" said Cornhill, frowning, "do you mean to maintain that the Forward has a captain on board?"
"Yes, Mr. Cornhill."
"Where did you get your precious information from?"
"From Johnson, the boatswain."
"From Johnson?"
"Yes, sir."
"Johnson told you so?"
"He not only told me so, but he showed me the captain."
"He showed him to you!" said Cornhill, stupefied. "And who is it, pray?"
"A dog."
"What do you mean by a dog?"
"A dog on four legs."
Stupefaction reigned amongst the crew of the Nautilus. Under any other circumstances they would have burst out laughing. A dog captain of a vessel of