“Just at the same height in the sky, going apparently round the heavens.”
“And would it keep on like that, always at the same height night and day?”
“Yes, for one day only. The next day it would be nearly the same height, then a little lower; and so it would go on becoming a little and a little lower, and, as it were, screwing slowly down till it was close to the horizon; then would come the days when it was only half seen, then not seen at all.”
“And after that?”
“Darkness and winter, Steve, till it had gone as far south as it could go and begun to return. Do you understand now?”
“I think so,” said Steve, but rather dubiously. “It’s much too big to get hold of all at once. But just tell me this, and then I’ll go to bed, sir. As we shan’t be right at the North Pole, how long will it be before we see the sun in the middle of the night?”
“That depends, my lad. If this breeze keeps up, we shall hoist sail, save our coal, and pass round the North Cape at midnight, and then we shall have a good three months’ sunshine in which to load our tanks with oil, have plenty of sport, and I hope—best of all—find our friends alive and little the worse for passing through an arctic winter in the snow. Now that’s quite enough for you to think of for one night. Down below.”
Stephen Young left the deck after giving a longing look round at the lovely sky, and feeling as if he had more to think of than he could well manage. Ten minutes later he was lying in his comfortable berth, listening to the gliding motion of the water as it lapped against the vessel’s side. Then he began to wonder why the constant sunshine did not melt all the ice and snow in the arctic circle; and lastly he did not wonder at all, for he was fast asleep, just as the vessel passed through the piled-up masses of rock which guarded the northern entrance to the fiord, and acted as breakwaters to keep the inner straits so lake-like and still. For directly the Hvalross had passed the last rocks there was a disagreeable heaving, and soon after the vessel had little waves splashing against her bows, and within an hour she was careening over to the full breeze, and making her way north at a rate which promised well for Stephen seeing the midnight sun twelve hours sooner than he had been told.
The swilling and scrubbing of the planks roused Steve the next morning, and, hurriedly dressing, he went on deck to find the sun shining brightly, the blue sea sparkling, and a dim line that might have been cloud away to the right. The breeze was just such a one as a sailor would like to continue, and the Hvalross, though not fast, being built for strength and resistance to the ice, was making good progress, thanks to the height of her spars and the grand spread of canvas she could bear. The new men were all very busy with bucket and swab, just as if they had been on board a month; and the last traces of the coal dust, which had worried Captain Marsham in his desire for perfect cleanliness, had been sent down the scuppers.
“Morning,” said the first of the new men Steve encountered, giving him a friendly nod. “Nice breeze.”