"I'm going!"
"It's a fiery crater!"
"I'm going!"
The firmness with which Hatteras uttered these words cannot be given. His friends were stupefied; they gazed with horror at the volcano tipped with flame. Then the doctor began; he urged and besought Hatteras to give up his design; he said everything he could imagine, from entreaty to well-meant threats; but he obtained no concession from the nervous captain, who was possessed with a sort of madness which may be called polar madness. Only violent means could stop him, rushing to his ruin. But seeing that thereby they would produce serious results, the doctor wished to keep them for a last resource. He hoped, too, that some physical impossibility, some unsurmountable difficulty, would compel him to give up his plan.
"Since it is so," he said, "we shall follow you."
"Yes," answered the captain, "half-way up the mountain! No farther! Haven't you got to carry back to England the copy of the document which proves our discovery, in case—"
"Still—"
"It is settled," said Hatteras, in a tone of command; "and since my entreaties as a friend are not enough, I order it as captain."
The doctor was unwilling to urge him any further, and a few moments later the little band, equipped for a hard climb, and preceded by Duke, set out. The sky was perfectly clear. The thermometer stood at 52°. The air had all the brilliancy which is so marked at this high latitude. It was eight o'clock in the morning. Hatteras went ahead with his dog, the others followed close behind.
"I'm anxious," said Johnson.