This interest was further increased by the graphic account that honest John Buzzby gave of the death of poor Mrs Ellice, and the enthusiastic way in which he spoke of his old captain. Fred, too, had, by his frank, affable manner and somewhat reckless disposition rendered himself a general favourite with the men, and had particularly recommended himself to Mivins the steward (who was possessed of an intensely romantic spirit), by stating once or twice very emphatically that he (Fred) meant to land on the coast of Baffin’s Bay, should the captain fail to find his father, and continue the search on foot and alone. There was no doubt whatever that poor Fred was in earnest, and had made up his mind to die in the search rather than not find him. He little knew the terrible nature of the country in which for a time his lot was to be cast, and the hopelessness of such an undertaking as he meditated. With boyish inconsiderateness he thought not of how his object was to be accomplished; he cared not what impossibilities lay in the way, but with manly determination he made up his mind to quit the ship and search for his father through the length and breadth of the land. Let not the reader smile at what he may perhaps style a childish piece of enthusiasm. Many a youth, at his age, has dreamed of attempting as great if not greater impossibilities. All honour, we say, to the boy who dreams impossibilities, and greater honour to him who, like Fred, resolves to attempt them! James Watt stared at an iron tea kettle till his eyes were dim, and meditated the monstrous impossibility of making that kettle work like a horse; and men might (perhaps did) smile at James Watt then; but do men smile at James Watt now—now that thousands of iron kettles are dashing like dreadful comets over the length and breadth of the land, not to mention the sea, with long tails of men, and women, and children behind them?
“That’s ’ow it is, sir,” Mivins used to say, when spoken to by Fred on the subject, “I’ve never bin in cold countries myself, sir, but I’ve bin in ’ot, and I knows that with a stout pair o’ legs, and a will to work, a man can work ’is way hanywhere. Of course there’s not much of a pop’lation in them parts, I’ve heer’d; but there’s Heskimos, and where one man can live so can another, and what one man can do so can another—that’s bin my hexperience, and I’m not ashamed to hown it, I’m not, though I do say it as shouldn’t, and I honour you, sir, for your filleral detarmination to find your father, sir, and—”
“Steward!” shouted the captain down the cabin skylight.
“Yes, sir!”
“Bring me the chart.”
“Yes, sir!” and Mivins disappeared like a Jack-in-the-box from the cabin just as Tom Singleton entered it.
“Here we are, Fred,” he said, seizing a telescope that hung over the cabin door, “within sight of the Danish settlement of Uppernavik; come on deck and see it.”
Fred needed no second bidding. It was here that the captain had hinted there would, probably, be some information obtained regarding the Pole Star, and it was with feelings of no common interest the two friends examined the low-roofed houses of this out-of-the-way settlement.
In an hour afterwards the captain and first mate with our young friends landed amid the clamorous greetings of the entire population, and proceeded to the residence of the governor, who received them with great kindness and hospitality; but the only information they could obtain was that, a year ago, Captain Ellice had been driven there in his brig by stress of weather, and, after refitting and taking in a supply of provisions, had set sail for England.
Here the Dolphin laid in a supply of dried fish, and procured several dogs, besides an Esquimaux interpreter and hunter, named Meetuck.