He rose from the table and stood with his head close to the deck beams. "I'll go up now," he said, "and watch the ice. Your coffee was a fine bracer."
She, too, rose and followed him to the step leading to the deck companion. "Do you think the Russians will desert the ship?" she asked.
"They go to their death if they do. The land is impassable. It is five hundred miles to the nearest Hudson Bay post. Franklin and others could not cross that barren land. Nor can the revolutionists."
"But they are Russians and used to the cold."
Stirling shook his head and replaced his cap. "The ship is the only way out," he said, sincerely. "We must stick by it!"
He was halfway up the steps when she called to him. He turned and glanced down, his fingers on the combing of the hatch. His eyes widened as she lifted her face to his and pouted slightly.
"There's one thing we've forgotten," she said.
"What is that?"
"About the man from San Francisco, the one you locked in the cabin. Don't you think you should let him loose?"
Stirling caught the note of sympathy in her tones, but he shook his head.