Even in the solitude of the Arctic, while still beset by perils, the two seamen were on the point of quarrelling on the subject of a debt contracted in far-off Hull.
"Stop that!" ordered Ranworth sharply.
Notwithstanding his physical fatigue, Ranworth was quick to recognise the possibilities of friction between the two men. He knew that only stern measures would prevent them from committing a breach of discipline that would still more seriously endanger the safety of the expedition.
"Here we are, sir," reported Payne. "Best go slow; it's a bit tricky."
He pointed to a fairly steep slope of the ice, ending at the water's edge. Within twelve feet of the end of the barrier lay the Bird of Freedom, moored fore and aft in almost the same position as Ranworth and his companions had left her.
Being on a weather shore, the floating sleigh had been protected by the ice wall, the only difference being that the slope had increased in steepness, owing to the melting away of the ice beneath the surface.
"I've cut fresh steps, sir," continued Payne. "P'r'aps I'd best nip on board and bring a coil of rope ashore. It might save some of us from having a bath."
Ten minutes later, the whole of the party were safely on board the Bird of Freedom. Like men in a dream, they ravenously devoured a hastily prepared meal, then, completely worn out, threw themselves into their bunks. Now they could rest without the fear of sleeping the sleep of death.