Danenhower, loquacious as always, broke the silence, observing to no one in particular,
“This damned coffee’s even worse than usual, all water and no coffee beans. Ah Sam’s had time enough to learn by now. Can’t anyone persuade that Chink to put some coffee in the pot? What’s he saving it for?”
“Maybe the sight of all that ice discourages him,” observed Ambler. “Perhaps he thinks we’re in for a long hard winter and he’s got to save. I reckon he’s right too, for that ice pack sure looks to me as if it never has broken up and turned to water yet.”
“Right, surgeon.” Captain De Long at the head of the table, busily engaged in ladling out a dish of hominy, looked up at Ambler and nodded pessimistically,
“And what’s worse for us, it looks to me as if it never will, unless someone whistles up a heavy gale to break up the pack.”
Chipp, uncomplainingly engaged in drinking down his portion of the insipid coffee, took objection at this.
“Don’t try that, captain! In any gale that’d break up this pack the pack’d break the Jeannette up in the process. No, let Nature take her course melting that ice; it may be slower but it’s safer.”
“Come down to earth!” broke in Danenhower. “Let’s leave the pack a minute; it’ll be there for a while yet. I was talking about coffee. Hasn’t anybody in this mess got influence enough to get Ah Sam to pack a little coffee in the pot for all this water to work on?”
“Well,” grinned Collins, seeing a chance to slip in a pun, “you’re the navigator, Dan. Why don’t you try shooting that Celestial’s equator? That ought to stir him up.”
Collins, chuckling happily, glanced round for approval.