The Eskimo shook his head and said he thought not, but there was a small rocky islet not far from where they were, though it lay somewhat out of their course.
On hearing this the Captain changed his course immediately, and rowed in the direction pointed out.
“There’s wind enough up there, Benjy,” remarked his father, looking up to the sky, where the higher clouds were seen rapidly passing the lower strata to the northward, “but how to get the kites set up in a dead calm is more than I can tell.”
“There is a way out of the difficulty, father,” said Benjy, pointing behind them.
He referred to a slight breeze which was ruffling the sea into what are called cat’s paws far astern.
“Right boy, right. Prepare to hoist your tops’ls, lads,” shouted the Captain.
In a few minutes the kites were expanded and the tow-lines attached. When the light breeze came up they all soared, heavily, it is true, but majestically, into the sky. Soon reaching the upper regions, they caught the steady breeze there, and towed the boats along at the rate of eight or ten miles an hour.
In two hours they sighted the islet which Chingatok had mentioned, and, soon afterwards, had landed and taken possession of it, in the usual manner, under the name of Refuge Island.