“Well, lad, you’ve come back to life at last, it seems,” spoke a gruff, but kindly voice.
“Where am I?”
“On board the whaler Penguin.”
“How did I come here?”
“Picked up on a floating cake of ice.”
“When—last night?”
The sailor laughed.
“No, indeed. A week ago.”
“And I have been here since?”
“Under the surgeon’s care, yes.”