I hastened to add that the materials needed for the balloon could doubtless be procured without delay.
“And you, Biffer?” Gale turned to the Captain who had been a silent unprotesting martyr during this proceeding. “Are you ready to start in a week for the South Pole?”
“Admiral,” said the Captain solemnly, and making a sincere effort to fix him with both eyes at once, “you own this boat and I’m hired to sail it. I don’t believe in no South Pole, but if there is one, I don’t know of a better place for a crowd like this. And if you give the order to go to the South Pole, I’ll take you to the South Pole, and sail off into space when we get there, if you say so!”
Mr. Biffer’s remarks were greeted with applause and a round of merriment in which the Captain paid himself the tribute of joining.
“We’ll have the balloon for navigating space, Captain Biffer,” said Edith Gale.
“And my opinion is that we’ll need it, ma’am, if we ever get back.”
But amid the now general enthusiasm Chauncey Gale had sprung to his feet. There was a flush of excitement on his full handsome face, and when he spoke there was a ring of decision in his voice.
“Everybody in favor of starting a week from to-day, for the South Pole, stand up!” he said.
There was a universal scramble. Captain Biffer was first on his feet. Gale seized a glass of wine and holding it high above his head, continued:
“To the Great Billowcrest Expedition! Missionary work for Johnnie; electricity for Ferratoni; balloons for Chase; tablets for Bill; the ship for the Captain; homes and firesides for me, and the South Pole for us all!”