“Little more than an hour if we do not meet with a check,” said Johannes, as the Hvalross glided round the edge of an ice-field into quite a winding river of black water, more open than any they had passed since the storm, and along which the vessel now made good way, while the land ahead began to grow more rugged and wild, looking grand, desolate, and apparently very much broken-up by jutting promontories and deep inlets.
“Yes,” said Johannes, after a long inspection through the glass; “there are plenty of shelter havens there, if we are not shut off from them by the ice.”
All these observations were duly communicated to the captain, who directed the course of the vessel by the instructions he received as to the lay of the water. And as Johannes had said, the places where Steve had imagined the open water to end proved to be quite clear, so that mile after mile was passed, and at last the boy gave his opinion upon the state of the navigation.
“Why, it’s easy enough,” he said; “any one might go right on like this to the North Pole.”
“It’s too easy, sir,” said Johannes, smiling. “How would you get back?”
“Wait till the tide turns and the ice is going the other way.”
“Yes, that would be a capital plan,” replied Johannes drily.
“Cold? Want to come down?” cried the captain from below.
“No, sir; quite warm shut up here,” replied Steve.
“Stay up then, for you’re making the navigation quite easy. All clear ahead?”