“Here, then, at last, is the open Polar Sea,” said Captain Vane, after the first long silent gaze of joy and admiration. “I have no doubt of it whatever. And now we shall proceed, I hope without interruption, to the Pole!”
“Of course you do not intend that we should swim there, do you, uncle?” said Leo.
“Of course not, my boy. In those big cases, which have cost us so much labour to bring here, I have three large and stout india-rubber boats—”
“Ha! I guessed as much,” exclaimed Alf.
“No doubt,” returned the Captain, “but you did not guess all.”
“I hope not,” said Leo, “for to say truth I don’t much relish the idea of rowing over an unknown sea an unknown distance at the rate of three or four miles an hour. I hope you have a patent steam-engine that will drive us along somewhat faster.”
“No, lad, no, I have no such steam-engine or any other miraculous contrivance that sets the laws of nature at defiance, and appears only in nursery tales. This expedition has been undertaken on no haphazard or insane plan. It was all cut and dry before we left Old England, and it is much simpler than you suppose.”
“What, then, is to be your motive power, if not oars or sails—which last would not work well, I fear, in an india-rubber boat?” asked Leo.
“Kites,” replied the Captain.
“Kites!” repeated both Alf and Leo in surprise.