Chapter Three.
Preparations.
“I say,” said Steve some hours later, “isn’t it getting late?”
“Yes, very,” said the captain; “go and turn in.”
“But it’s so light, sir! It was light enough coming up here, but— what time is it?”
“Eleven—past.”
“What! Why, I thought it could only be about eight.”
“I suppose so, boy,” said the captain, who was looking ahead for the opening through which the Hvalross was to thread her way out from the fiord into the ocean; “but where is your geography?”
“At home.”