Captain Cawdor and Fred sprang up and rushed on deck, and presently, while the ship was kept away in towards the bay, every glass on board was levelled at that dark spot on the snow.
CHAPTER XVIII.
SEÑOR SARPINTO.
Nearer and nearer sailed the San Salvador, closer and closer into the bay; and soon the dark spot resolved itself into something with a definable shape. Presently all doubt was dispelled; it was a ship lying on the ice on her beam ends, and a few minutes after several men were seen clustering near her.
The captain took the glass from his eye,
"There is no doubt about it," he said aloud. "Yonder lies the wreck of the Resolute."
Then the crew manned the bulwarks, the capstan, and winch, and cheer after cheer rose on the icy air of the morning, such cheers as only can be heard from true British sailors.
Was it an echo from the cold and snowy mountain cliffs, or was it really a cheer in response to theirs, that now came feebly back over the dark waters? None could tell. But in a very short time the San Salvador was near enough to see figures running excitedly about on the ice.
They are soon near enough for safety, the anchor chains rattle out, and the sails are clued; and soon a boat is speeding shorewards, both Captain Cawdor and his young friend Fred being seated in the stern sheets.
And now I have a strange fact to record; and mind you, reader, facts are stranger far than fiction, and I must leave the elucidation thereof to the psychologist.