"Not at all," said Torrence; "when those men left him he was only a year old, so to speak. He had entered his new existence but a twelvemonth before; and although he had the size and strength of a man, he was but an infant, so far as his mind was concerned, and I defy any one to recall anything which happened at that time of their lives. No one can remember what happened when he was but a year old. I have thought it all out, old boy, and Von Broekhuysen ought to belong to a museum!"
There was no gainsaying what my brother said. I wanted to ask him how Merrick had made his escape, and what had become of the other fellow, but a look warned me that an appropriate time had not come for these questions. I was impressed with the marvelous way in which Torrence had been prepared for our discovery by this extraordinary man, Merrick, who must have seen more of the mysteries of the Arctic regions than any human being alive.
We were sailing over a sea of vast extent, whose shores were mythical. Whither would it lead us? Although it was the time of year when we might reasonably expect to find moderate weather, even in high latitude, we were amazed to find the air so temperate and pleasant as it was. We sat on deck nearly all the time, when not engaged in eating or sleeping, and often without our top coats. We kept constant watch on the horizon, the water below us, and the sky above; expecting at any moment to discover the outline of some unknown continent, but as the monotony of sky and water continued we began to sympathize with Columbus.
Twenty-four hours after leaving the island, which we agreed to call Von Broekhuysen, we estimated that we could not have come less than four hundred miles, and yet there had not been the slightest indication of land, although we had not changed our course half a degree. It was the same placid, unmarked, and unknown ocean. Whither were we drifting?
It was about here that the meteorological conditions of the atmosphere began to strike me as peculiar. The northern horizon had been subjected to a singular phenomenon for a good many hours, which I ascribed to one of those effects of light so common in these latitudes. It was simply a crescent-shaped cloud, growing in height as we advanced. At first it subtended the segment of an arc of about sixty degrees across the horizon, steadily ascending toward the zenith with our progress. But gradually this form lost its definiteness, and melted into the sky in a mellow haze, which softened the light and obscured the sun. We were glad enough to have the glare off the water, as it had been quite trying, but I was at a loss to account for the phenomenon which had abolished it. If Torrence understood this he failed to explain it to me—advising me to wait and see what would happen. I mention it here as an important fact bearing upon our future discoveries. I had never before seen so peculiar a cloud, retaining a definite form for so long a time, fixed in density and character save that the arc grew as we proceeded; and I naturally puzzled myself a good deal meditating on it. But it was not until later that I ascertained the cause of this astounding phenomenon.
* * * * *
Forty-eight hours after leaving the island we were still floating over the same placid sea, and without indication of land upon any point of the horizon. We were working our way along at the rate of five and twenty knots, under perfect conditions, when a thought struck me.
"How far have we come since leaving the island?" I asked.
Torrence looked at the indicator.
"About six hundred miles," he said.