"Why," cried Captain Cawdor, "you are the very men we have come to seek for. But where are the rest of you?"
Then the faces of the two men fell, and they looked at each other confusedly and guiltily.
"Bill," said one at last, "better let us make a clean breast of it."
"Right, Nat. Guess it'll be the same in the end."
"We're about the guiltiest men out then," said the man called Nat.
"Mutiny and murder?"
"No, sirree; not so bad as that. Our hands are clean. But, sir, we are willing to own up to robbery. Yes, as base as base could be. But heaven knows, sir, we've suffered for it. Our ship, the Resolute, got in a gale of wind in the south-eastern ice down here, and we lost all our boats except this one here. Then we took the ice, or rather we were squeezed into a starvation creek or bay, 'nipped up' and thrown on our beam-ends on top of a floe. That's months ago, sir."
"I see," said Captain Cawdor, "and you and your mate here stole the only boat, provisioned her, and escaped in the dark."
"May the Lord love you, sir, that's it entirely."
"Well, you deserve to be marooned. If it wasn't for one thing more than another I'd take your arms and tools, smash your boat, and leave you here to perish. As it is, we'll leave the boat and take you. Is it far from here where your ship lies wrecked?"