"Nipped?"
"Yes! Caught in the ice and crushed. Many ships have had that happen. I remember the Beluga and the Prince Charles and the schooner Rosy Enders. They all were nipped to the eastward of Herschel Island. We're in the same waters."
"But wouldn't it be splendid if the Russians got through to Baffin Bay? Just think what the world would say. The Northwest Passage!"
"The Northeast," corrected Stirling, with a faint smile.
"Isn't there a big reward for going around the American Continent?"
"There was; I don't know about it now. The Norwegians did it in a little ship, but it took them years."
The girl moved across the cabin and pressed her face to the nearest porthole, then turned and found Stirling's eyes fastened upon her.
"I see lots of ice," she said, naïvely. "There's ice everywhere."
"Except ahead. We're going down a lane of open water between the floes and the shore. Cape Bathurst should soon be sighted."
The girl turned her head and glanced through the porthole. "I see land!" she exclaimed, with a quiver in her voice. "It doesn't look so terrible. There're green moss and trees—I think they are trees."