"They may feel better tempered after a good feed," remarked Ranworth. "For the present I prefer to ignore their presence."
Seven minutes from the time of starting from the southern limit of the ice-barrier, the Bird of Freedom glissaded down a gently-shelving slope and gained the water beyond. Only twenty miles of comparatively open sea lay between them and the nearmost point of Nova Cania.
"So this is what they call the early breaking up of the ice," remarked Ranworth, as he looked astern in the direction of the rapidly receding "pack." "The Polarity is jammed in by one big floe. She has still to find a way through that barrier. We'll be lucky if we see her at Desolation Inlet on our return."
Leslie and Guy had already forgotten the hardships they had undergone. In the well-warmed cabin, refreshed by sleep, and having fed, they felt quite comfortable. Under these conditions, the dreary aspect of the frozen ice lost its terrors.
"Guy," said Mr. Ranworth after a while, "you might relieve me at the helm. Keep a sharp look-out for growlers. I've had to dodge a good many masses of floating ice. You'll soon get accustomed to the steering-gear."
Glad of an opportunity of doing something, Guy took the wheel.
"That's the course," continued Ranworth, indicating the compass, "north 88 degrees east. I'll snatch forty winks. Turn me out directly you sight land."
Ranworth had given Guy the helm with a double purpose. He knew that, owing to the strained relations on board, it was necessary for some one to be constantly on the watch. He also realised that there was always a chance of his being put out of action. With a second helmsman, the Bird of Freedom would still be able to keep going.
For nearly an hour Guy stuck to the helm. Several times he had to alter course to avoid detached masses of floating ice.
"Leslie," he exclaimed. "What do you make of that?"