“What did Mr. Larkins say about it?” I asked.
“Mistah Lahkins! Humph, Mistah Lahkins! What he always say? He jes’ laugh an’ say dat de Souf Pole ’bout de onliest stick o’ timbah he ain’ tie up to yit, but he reckon dat it strong enough to hol’ us f’m gwine off into space. Anyway, he willin’ to take chances wid de res’. ‘An’ de Cap’n say, ‘Dat’s all right, same here,’ but dat de bosen, Frenchy, been talkin’ ’roun’ ’mong de sailors, an’ dat some get mighty oneasy an’ wan’ to be put ashoah. An’ dat’s what I want. I wan’ me an’ my Miss Edith put ashoah. Den if you-all mus’ go on aftah de Souf Pole, why jes’ go, and leave me an’ my Miss Edith to go back home; an’ nex’ time tell folks wheah you gwine, an’ not make out like you takin’ all dis perwision down to some po’ kinfolks dat everybody related to, an’ nobody don’t know about.”
There was another brief intermission. The incident was entertaining enough, but there was a grave note in it as well. In the bosen, Frenchy, I recognized the sailor who on the first day had barred my entrance to the Billowcrest. I recalled my unfavorable impression of the man. He would be altogether the one, I thought, to stir up discontent among the sailors—an unpleasant prospect.
“Please, sah, won’t you put me an’ my Miss Edith ashoah, sah?” In my more serious consideration I had temporarily forgotten Zar’s presence. She had believed me hesitating, perhaps, and had adopted a persuasive tone in consequence. “Miss Edith mighty sad las’ night,” she added, “an’ I know you don’ want dat po’ gal to go spillin’ off into space like a lil’ robin when he nes’ break!”
“Not for the South Pole, Antarctics, and the whole world, Zar!” I said with a fervency that made the woman suddenly regard me with a new interest. There was a rustle behind her, and Edith Gale stepped out on deck. “Here is Miss Gale to speak for herself,” I added, with some confusion.
“What’s the matter, Zar? What do you want of Mr. Chase?”
“I want him to put we ’uns ashoah,” began the old woman. “I tol’ him we done foun’ out about gwine to de Souf Pole, an’ dat you an’ me wan’ to get off right heah, an’ go ashoah.”
“But I don’t want to get off, Zar. I’ve known all along where we are going. I want to go to the South Pole with—with Papa, and we’re going to bring it back with us.”
Zar regarded her mistress a moment in silence. Then she said in a voice of grave wonderment:
“I wish you tell me what dat Paw of yours gwine to do wid dat Souf Pole when he gits it? Ain’ he got money ’nuff already? Anyhow, who gwine to buy dat pole? An’ how dey gwine know hit’s de sho nuff Souf Pole when dey sees hit? What’s to hender us gwine ’shoah right heah, an’ hackin’ down any ole pole, an’ gwine home again widout any moah foolishness? Ain’ none dem folks up in New York gwine know de diff’ence!”