By this time they were joined by Leo and Chingatok, who ran into the water and aided them in dragging the refractory machine ashore.
“That’s a vigorous beginning, father,” remarked Benjy as they came to land.
“It is, my boy. Go and fetch me dry clothes while we haul in the kite and make her snug.”
“When do you mean to start?” asked Leo, as he coiled away the slack of the line on the reel.
“The first steady fair wind that blows from the south,” answered the Captain, “but we must have one or two experimental trials of the kites and boats together, before we set out on the real voyage.”
“It’s a capital idea,” returned Leo enthusiastically. “There’s a sort of neck-or-nothing dash about it that quite suits me. But, uncle, what of the Eskimos? The three boats won’t carry the half of them.”
“I know that, lad, and shall get over the difficulty by leaving some of them behind. Chingatok says they are quite able to take care of themselves; can easily regain the Greenland shore, find their canoes, or make new ones, and return to their own land if they choose.”
“But, uncle,” said Alf, who was by no means as reckless as his brother, “don’t you think it’s rather risky to go off into an unknown sea in open boats, for no one knows how long, to go no one knows exactly where?”
“Why, Alf,” returned the Captain with a laugh, “if you were as stupid about your scientific pursuits as you are about geographical affairs, you would not be worth your salt. A sea’s a sea, isn’t it, whether known or unknown, and the laws that affect all seas are pretty much alike. Of course it is risky. So is going on a forlorn hope. So is shooting with a set of fellows who don’t know how to manage their guns. So is getting on a horse, for it may kick you off or run away. So is eating fish, for you may choke yourself. Everything, almost, is more or less risky. You must risk something if you’d discover the North Pole, which has baffled adventurers from the days of Adam till now. And you are wrong in saying that we shall go off for no one knows how long. The distance from this island to the Pole is pretty nearly 200 miles. If our kites carry us along at the rate of ten miles an hour, we shall cover the distance in 20 hours. If we have calms or contrary winds we may take 20 days. If storms come, we have not much to fear, for the weather is warm,—so, too,—is the water. Then, our boats are lifeboats—they cannot sink. As to not knowing where exactly we are going, why, man, we’re going to the North Pole. Everybody knows where that is, and we are going to the home of Chingatok, which cannot be very far from it.”
“There, Alf, I hope you are sufficiently answered,” said Leo, as he undid the locking-gear of the kite, which by that time lay prone on its face, as peaceful as a lamb.