There was a long pause.
"Deck ahoy!"
"What is it?" bellowed the captain.
"Sure, there is a mist, or smoke right ahead, and above it I see what looks like the top of a mountain," replied the Irishman.
"Nothing else?"
"There is a low, flat berg."
"Nothing more? No sign of a boat-sail?"
"Nothing the size of a pocket handkerchief, yer honor."
"Well, we must give up the search for the present and start for the Siberian shore. But I give you my word, Bob, I shall not give up this hunt for many a week."
The wind fell light, and the Dart did not make more than three knots an hour during that afternoon.