"Has a name already," answered the American, quietly.
Hatteras was silent. His lips trembled.
"And what is its name?" asked the doctor, a little surprised at the American's statement.
"My dear Clawbonny," answered Altamont, "it is the custom, not to say the habit, of every explorer to give a name to the continent which he has discovered. It seems to me that on this occasion it was in my power and that it was my duty to use this indisputable right—"
"Still—" said Johnson, whom Altamont's coolness annoyed.
"It seems to me hard to pretend," the American resumed, "that the Porpoise did not discover this coast, and even on the supposition that it came by land," he added, glancing at Hatteras, "there can't be any question."
"That is a claim I can't admit," answered Hatteras, gravely, forcibly restraining himself. "To give a name, one should be the discoverer, and that I fancy you were not. Without us, besides, where would you be, sir, you who presume to impose conditions upon us? Twenty feet under the snow!"
"And without me, sir," replied the American, "without my ship, where would you be at this moment? Dead of cold and hunger?"
"My friends," said the doctor, intervening for the best, "come, a little calm, it can all settle itself. Listen to me!"
"That gentleman," continued Altamont, pointing to the captain, "can give a name to all the lands he discovers, if he discovers any; but this continent belongs to me! I cannot admit of its bearing two names, like Grinnell Land and Prince Albert's Land, because an Englishman and American happened to find it at the same time. Here it's different. My rights of precedence are beyond dispute! No ship has ever touched this shore before mine. No human being before me has ever set foot upon it; now, I have given it its name, and it shall keep it."