“No, sir, more to the east, by Novaya-Zemlya.”
“How horrible!” said Steve with a shudder. “Tell me about something else.”
“Yes, sir; I don’t want to what the English sailors call spin yarns; that seemed to come naturally after our escape.”
“Yes, of course; but tell me this, Johannes. Next time we go off after one of those shoals of white whales—”
“What, sir! you would go again?” said the great amiable-looking fellow, smiling.
“Of course.”
“And run risks?”
“Oh, I hope there would not be any risk; but you wouldn’t have me play the coward always because we were in danger once?”
“No, no, sir, of course not,” said the Norseman, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Well, what if we go after the white whale again? I was trying to make out a school with the glass when you spoke and made me jump. Their oil is so fine and valuable.”
“Yes, I know,” said Steve impatiently; “but if we do go after a school again, I want you to let me try and harpoon one.”