"And what are six hundred miles," said the doctor, briskly, "when it is proved that a Cossack, Alexis Markoff, went along the frozen sea, north of Russia, on sledges drawn by dogs, for a distance of eight hundred miles, in twenty-four days?"
"You hear him, Shandon," answered Hatteras, "and will you say that an Englishman cannot do as much as a Cossack?"
"Never!" cried the enthusiastic doctor.
"Never!" repeated the boatswain.
"Well, Shandon?" asked the captain.
"Captain," answered Shandon, coldly, "I can only repeat what I have said,—I shall obey you."
"Well. Now," continued Hatteras, "let us consider our present situation; we are caught in the ice, and it seems to me impossible for us to reach Smith's Sound this year. This is what we must do."
Hatteras unfolded on the table one of the excellent charts published in 1859 by the order of the Admiralty.
"Be good enough to look here. If Smith's Sound is closed, Lancaster Sound is not, to the west of Baffin's Bay; in my opinion, we ought to go up this sound as far as Barrow Strait, and thence to Beechey Island. This has been done a hundred times by sailing-vessels; we shall have no difficulty, going under steam. Once at Beechey Island, we shall follow Wellington Sound as far northward as possible, to where it meets the channel, connecting it with Queen's Sound, at the place where the open sea was seen. It is now only the 20th of May; if nothing happens, we shall be there in a month, and from there we shall start for the Pole. What do you say to that, gentlemen?"
"Evidently," said Johnson, "it's the only way open to us."