Roger bent over them with him.
“Can you tell how far we are from the Pole now, Mr. Reade?” he asked.
“I think I can,” replied Frank. “We are not more than three hundred miles, to my reckoning.”
“Three hundred miles?”
“Yes.”
“Ah! then we ought to be near the open sea?”
“We should be in twelve hours.”
“How have you laid your course?”
“Follow this line!” said Frank, “by Baffin Bay, through Smith’s Sound, and straight up through a deep and wide channel, which has doubtless been for ages blocked with ice.”
“And which has been the real barrier to reaching the Pole?”