Captain Mayne Brace was very favourably impressed by the prodigal son, as he would insist upon calling himself. The coincidence that had brought them together was certainly strange, but Fate moves in a mysterious way, and Brace determined to take advantage of the meeting between Ingomar and himself.
He candidly opened his mind to the young millionaire.
“I am bound,” he said, “to do all I can to secure a good voyage during the spring fishery. Nothing could prevent me from attempting this for the benefit of my owners; and if I must return ‘a clean ship,’ then I shall have to steel my nerves to encounter my owners. The ship is well—too well—insured, and it was hinted to me that if I failed in making a paying voyage, no questions would be asked if I cast her away. There would be little chance of that, for even after a rough-and-tumble life at sea for so many years, I have a little honour left me, a clean heart, and a clear conscience.
“But, Mr. Armstrong——”
“Call me not Armstrong yet, sir—just Ingomar, and hang the ‘Mr.’”
“Well, Ingomar, I have no doubt my owners would be willing to sell the Walrus, and therefore, if you choose now to sign articles, I shall rate you as harpooner, and shall be perfectly willing to ship for you, before we leave these regions, the Yak-Yaks, the dogs, and young bears you say would be necessary to make our expedition a success.
“We are a sturdy ship and good sailer, and we have plenty of room, if we do not make a voyage, for you and your pets.”
“You have made me very happy, sir. Let us make the agreement at once.”
“Just one moment, young sir. You have told me that the Walrus will be the auxiliary vessel carrying extra stores, the dogs, the Yak-Yak hunters, sledges, etc., and that you would build or buy and fit out a special ship for the actual scientific exploration. Now, I am a plain man—under what flag should we sail?”
“The Stars and Stripes?” said Ingomar.