"Ay, it's cold an' dark, no sun at all for two months. An' a man'll go hungry often. But it's free an' open an' no one has a boss! What's more, there's gold!"
Anton shivered. The call of the North had not gripped him, yet.
Otto, beside the helmsman, was worrying him—neither with the weather, nor with the question of treasure. To the first he was indifferent, to the second he was satisfied with drawing full pay every day and not doing any hewing for it. With huge delight, he was absorbing all the superstitions of the sea, and giving the steersman a gruesome crop of tales of knockers and gas sprites underground.
There was no special reason why he should have come on the voyage, except that he had asked to come. Owing to Anton's hatred for coal mining—born of the entombment—Clem had used his position as Jim's "pardner" to bring the boy along. Otto, having taken what might be termed a paternal and prophetic interest in the imprisoned men, wanted to join the party.
Owens made no objection. He knew laborers would be wanted, and he preferred men who would not be likely to betray the secret of the gold. He knew the miner's unswerving loyalty, and was well aware that loyalty is the one quality which is beyond all price.
Towards the close of the afternoon, the Bunting shortened sail. They were drawing near.
Somewhere, not far from them, lay the Diomede Islands, those two great granite crags rising sheer out of the sea with deep water on every side. The lead would give no sign. There is no fog signal on the Diomedes. In such a thick and clammy mist as hung over the water, a ship could wreck herself upon those bleak coasts almost before she saw the surf under her bows. The wind was light, and the brigantine slid slowly over the water.
The "Arctic Wizard," his eyes accustomed to the northern skies, was the first to see a faint purplish blotch in the swirling mist.
"Land! Captain!" he warned, quickly. "Keep away! Keep well away!"
Almost instantly, the booming of breakers was heard.