"Through the Northeast Passage!"
[CHAPTER XXXII—TO THE LAST DAY]
As the sun rose above the ice-covered sea on the morning following Stirling's talk with the leader of the revolutionists, the ship was swung toward the magnetic north and driven within the opening which lies between Banks Land and Prince Patrick Island.
Banks Strait the passage was called, and it led from Beaufort Sea and the uncharted waters east of Keenan Land to Melville Sound and Barrow Strait. From the appearance of the ice and direction of the wind, Stirling decided to chance the passage. There was no way back!
He climbed the shrouds and dropped into the crow's-nest. The after deck, from the companion hatch to the taffrail, had been reserved by the revolutionists for Helen Marr and her steamer chair. She had conquered the Russians by her smiles and songs. They all stood in the presence of death and the unknown. The appearance of the sea; the strange tides and currents; the action of the compass at variance with the stars—all these drove the haunting desire of companionship within men's breasts. Old differences were forgotten in the face of despair.
Stirling took quiet charge of the ship. He gave the orders, which were partly understood by the leader, who, Stirling soon learned, really knew a fair amount of English, although at first he had been loath to disclose his knowledge, no doubt for strategic reasons. One or two others of the Russians had a smattering of English.
The Pole Star dodged in and out of ice floes and drifting packs which had been loosened by the unusual warmth. The way ahead was unknown and uncharted, and it was barely possible that the heavier ice had gone south and west with the current.
Gripped with the desire for research and discovery, Stirling made many notes in Marr's old log book. He held the crow's-nest until the sun rimmed the western waste of waters and ice; then descended to the deck as an open lane appeared before the course of the ship.
With his hand in his pocket he moved among the silent revolutionists, and they made way for him as he stepped across the waist of the ship and climbed the quarter-deck steps. Their attitude was one of respect. Had he not driven the Pole Star that day through a wilderness of drift ice which none of them believed passable? His hearty "Steady, port; hard aport—now starboard!" was a revelation in piloting.
The coffee he drank as Helen Marr appeared from the companion way cleared his brain. He tapped the log book and swept his hand over the sea to the north.