“Hullo, Steve! what are you thinking about?” saluted him.
“Volcanoes.”
“Warm subject. Well, what about them?”
“I was wondering why it was that these burning mountains are always found up in very cold regions among the ice and snow.”
“But are they?”
“Oh yes,” said Steve confidently. “There’s Hecla in Iceland, and this one Mr Lowe talked about, and Captain Marsham says he saw a tremendous one amongst the ice toward the South Pole.”
“Indeed!” said the doctor sarcastically. “That makes three. What about the scores of others dotted about the earth in the hottest countries? Your theory will not hold water, my lad. But what’s that man going aloft for? We can’t be anywhere near land.”
This remark was occasioned by one of the men climbing the shrouds of the main-mast, making his way to the top, and then, as they watched him, climbing higher to the main topgallant crosstrees, where he stopped for some little time making an examination before descending.
“Gone up to see if the ropes are safe,” said Steve at last. But this soon proved to be a very lame conclusion, for the other three Norsemen and a sour-looking Scotchman, with a little brown mark at the corner of one lip, were busy getting something up out of the hold.
The something resolved itself into a big tub about five feet in height, and narrow, while it was made higher by an iron framework or ring rising another six inches above the open top, and held projecting like a rail by means of stout bars attached to a hoop.