"Yes, sir," replied Guy. "Mr. Ward is now spending his holidays at Pilgrimswick—that's the port to which the Laughing Lassie belonged."
"All right, my lad. We'll let your people know you're safe," declared Ranworth. "Now you just swallow that soup and then go to sleep, and you'll be all right in the morning."
Five minutes later a message was sent from the Polarity to Scarborough wireless station, reporting the rescue of Guy Anderson and Leslie Ward, and requesting that the information should be telephoned to Pilgrimswick.
"We must give those lads a shakedown in my cabin, Captain," said Ranworth. "They'll be all right where they are to-night. It only proves that one cannot judge by appearances."
"Just so, sir," agreed Captain Stormleigh. "They certainly did look as if they had come aboard through the hawsepipe. But the sooner we get them out of the ship the better. Every hour lessens our chances of falling in with a homeward-bound ship, and the Arctic's no place for a couple of inexperienced lads."
"It is not," agreed Ranworth. "I sincerely trust that we will soon be able to shift the responsibility of them upon other shoulders."
The next day passed almost without incident. Leslie and Guy were transferred to Mr. Ranworth's cabin, where, owing to the privations they had undergone, they were kept in their bunks.
On the following morning they dressed and went on deck.
"Good morning," was Paul Travers' greeting. "I think I've met you before."
"I don't remember you," said Leslie.