They had not the slightest idea where they were. They had no compass, nothing to guide them. And if they had had such an instrument, they would not know whether to head north, south, east or west, for they had no knowledge of the direction in which lay the nearest land.
And there was the problem of provisions and warmth. They must eat and keep warm. They could not set themselves adrift in an unprovisioned boat without suitable clothing and expect to live.
They might be picked up by some northern-bound steamer, that is true, but in this latitude and longitude such ships were rare. They could not afford to trust to luck.
But all during the endless hours Bobby could not drive the thought of the longboat from his mind. If they could provision it, find out in some way the location of the nearest shore. But how—how?
And then suddenly the answer was given him in a way that he could never have anticipated.
There were two Eskimos among the ship’s crew, and although at first the boys had studied them with natural curiosity, they had soon become accustomed to these black-haired, black-eyed, round-faced people of the North.
They were silent men and seldom joined in the wild songs and capering of the white men of the crew, but their silence was not morose. They seemed even friendly in a queer way, and Bobby had thought more than once that he had surprised in their dull, emotionless stare a look of real interest and sympathy.
This evening as, worn out by the hours of hard toil he had put in, Bobby was making his way slowly along the spray-washed deck, he was not altogether surprised to hear himself addressed by one of the Eskimos.
The man spoke guardedly and it was the tone he used, more than what he said, that startled Bobby.
“Come with me,” said the guttural voice close to his ear. “I have a message for you.”